Page 52 of In the Midnight Hour

“What do you think happened with the dressing gown?” Hypatia asked.

“The best I can come up with is that the killer used it to mop up the blood, which explains why I thought there was too little of it.”

Hypatia flashed a smile at him. “I had the same thought.” She pressed her lips together. “I also thought Sir Radnor might have worn the gown to leave his chamber.” She shared her theories regarding Killingsworth being the killer.

“Is Killingsworth large and strong enough to haul Sir Radnor up two flights of stairs?” Northwood sounded doubtful. “He would have made a mess with the blood.”

“Not if he used the dressing gown to clean it up.”

They’d reached Hypatia’s gate, and Northwood opened it for her. “And then what did he do with it—take it home? Toss it in one of the fireplaces?” He followed her through and closed the gate.

“Either one makes sense.” She exhaled as she turned toward him. “Or am I just telling myself that all these wild theories are rational and reasonable because I have to believe that?”

He fixed his gaze on her, his eyes bright in the light shining from the lamp over the door behind her. “I’m not sure murder is ever rational or reasonable, so don’t try to make your theories meet those markers.”

“That is good advice, thank you. This has been a long day. I’m exhausted, but I fear I won’t sleep because I’m anxious about being taken to Marlborough Street.” What if Drummond arrested her? She didn’t even want to ask the question out loud.

“I’m happy to come inside to help settle your nerves with a glass or two of wine,” he offered with a charming smile.

She arched her brow. “I’m trying to dampen gossip about me, not increase it.”

“We could have a ‘chance’ meeting at the Pemberton Club then.” He waggled his eyebrows at her.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re a terrible flirt. I confess I’m unaware of your reputation, but as you’re unmarried at your age, I’m starting to suspect that you’re a rake.”

“Guilty of being overly flirtatious,” he said with absolutely no humility. “I’m not sure I qualify as a rake, but I do possess somewhat roguish tendencies.”

She laughed, and it felt so nice after the heaviness she’d felt earlier. “What is a rake if not someone with roguish tendencies?”

He sucked in a breath in mock horror. “Now I’m going to have to rethink my entire identity.”

“I’ll leave you to it,” she said, still smiling. “We’ve both much to think about before we reconvene tomorrow.”

“Will you be at the church service?” At her nod, he asked if he could escort her.

“I think it’s best if I meet you there. Will you be attending the burial after?”

He nodded. “I’ll see if I can discover anything from the male servants who attend.”

“Good night then, Lord Northwood.”

“Good night…Lady Cartwright.” He turned and departed through the gate.

She noted his use of her title instead of her first name, as well as the hesitation that had preceded it. Had he needed to stop himself, or was he being impish and drawing attention to the fact that he was adhering to her wishes? Either way, she had to admit she was beginning to like him.

Chapter 12

The burial seemed as though it dragged, but North blamed the cold, dreary day. Really, it was ideal weather for a funeral.

North’s mind turned to the edition of the Observer that had arrived that morning. It had detailed the findings of the inquest as well as today’s events memorializing Sir Radnor: the church service, the burial, and the gathering at his house afterward. The tone of this issue was drier than the one he’d read the other day, and it didn’t seem to include any inside information, such as the revelation of the Clavertons being excluded from their great-uncle’s will. The solemnity was perhaps expected; murder should make anyone sober.

The church service had been well-attended. It seemed nearly everyone from Pemberton Square had turned out, or so Mrs. Lambton had remarked to North. He’d tried to sit with Hypatia, but she’d been ensconced toward the back at the end of an aisle with someone next to her when he’d arrived. He suspected she was trying to be inconspicuous.

All of Sir Radnor’s retainers had been present, at least that was what he’d gathered from seeing who was seated with those he recognized. He’d counted several others—likely the cook, kitchen maids, coachman, and grooms.

That left him wondering who’d been left at Sir Radnor’s house to prepare for the gathering later. Then he recalled that Hypatia had kindly offered her own servants to assist.

At last, the burial concluded. As the gentlemen started back to Pemberton Square, North found himself walking near Maberly.