Page 59 of In the Midnight Hour

“I understand your desire to quash gossip,” Mr. Sheffield said. “However, as you said, there is already a stir.” He looked to his brother. “You may inform everyone what happened if you wish.”

“I may do that,” Northwood replied.

“Let us depart,” Mr. Sheffield said to the constables. They escorted the Clavertons from the chamber as Maberly hurriedly stepped aside.

The poor butler looked even more agitated.

Northwood gave him an encouraging nod. “All will be well, Maberly. I’ll go down and make an announcement.”

“Thank you, my lord.” Maberly appeared slightly relieved before quickly leaving the bedchamber.

Alone with Northwood, Hypatia allowed herself to exhale fully. It did nothing to relieve the anxiety coursing through her. She was right back at the center of the murder investigation. And she had to go to Marlborough Street now.

“We’ll go to Marlborough Street together,” Northwood said.

She nodded. “Thank you. I’m nervous to go.”

“I can see that. I promise you will sleep in your own bed tonight.” The ferocity of his vow made her almost believe him. “Why don’t you go home for a bit?” he suggested. “I need to make this announcement, then I’ll send for my coach and come round to pick you up.”

“I appreciate that. Perhaps now you understand why I don’t want to reveal what Sir Radnor did that night.”

Northwood frowned, but then he nodded. “I do understand. I still think it’s important, but I shan’t pressure you about it.”

He gestured for her to leave the chamber before him, and they descended the stairs together. When they reached the first floor, she looked toward the drawing room. Several people were loitering outside the doorway, buzzing with animated conversation.

Hypatia had no desire to participate in the gossip or even hear it. Now that the Clavertons had been cleared of the murder, she was once again the primary suspect and would be the subject of scrutiny in the square—if she’d ever stopped fulfilling that role. Given Mrs. Lambton’s comments earlier about her moving on from Sir Radnor to Northwood, Hypatia worried her reputation was still suffering.

Hurrying down to the ground floor, she found her housekeeper. “Mrs. Goss, I’m going home for a while, and then I must go to Marlborough Street with Lord Northwood to give testimony about what happened upstairs.”

“I can’t wait to hear the full story,” Mrs. Goss, a warm, confident woman in her late forties, said eagerly. “Are you all right? You look a bit peaked.”

“I’m fine. It was a dramatic episode is all. I’ll tell you about it later.”

Mrs. Goss nodded. “I may be here until later this evening helping to clean up, but Mrs. Martin has already returned to her kitchen and is preparing your dinner.”

Hypatia wasn’t sure she’d be able to eat after she returned from Marlborough Street. If she returned. “Thank you.”

As she walked home, she glanced across the street to see if Quill was in his favorite tree. Instead, she made eye contact with a woman standing near the iron fence around the garden. She was petite and wore dark gray. Hypatia had the sense that the woman knew her, but Hypatia didn’t recognize her in return. Actually, she had seen her before. At the church service earlier in the day. Hypatia had noted her hat, for it sported an ostrich feather in a dashing shade of violet.

Curious, Hypatia crossed the street. The woman abruptly pivoted and hurried toward Elizabeth Street.

“Wait!” Hypatia called, and the woman paused. Striding toward her along the pavement, Hypatia smiled. “I saw you at the church. Do we know one another? Forgive me, for I don’t recognize you.”

“We are not acquainted,” she replied, her voice soft. “I used to live here in the square—at number sixteen. I’m Mrs. Jennings.”

“I’m Lady Cartwright. I live at number twenty-five. You must have left before I moved here three years ago.”

Mrs. Jennings nodded.

“Did you know Sir Radnor?” Hypatia realized that was a silly question since the woman had been at the service and had been standing across the street from the funeral gathering. Had she not gone inside? Or had Hypatia simply missed seeing her whilst she’d been upstairs?

“I did.” Mrs. Jennings glanced toward number twenty-four, and Hypatia would have sworn her lips curled ever so slightly. She gave her head a shake. “You must excuse me.” She turned and hastened away.

Hypatia didn’t try to stop her again. The woman had seemed discomfited. And Hypatia had the sense she hadn’t cared for Sir Radnor. Then why come to his funeral service?

Turning, she walked back across the street to her house. The encounter slipped from her mind as she focused on having to go to Marlborough Street. She hoped the errand would remain focused on the Clavertons. Hypatia was not ready for Drummond’s interrogation.

She also wasn’t ready to be arrested—as if she’d ever be.