Page 68 of The Hidden Heart

“You must promise you will not tell,” Leona said, making a show of reluctance, then shrugged and said, “Yes, we were in his room together when she screamed. So you know it was not he, and it was not I. Personally, I doubt the woman was even killed. It was an accident, and you just enjoy being officious.” She paused and added what to her must have been the killing blow. “I cannot imagine what I ever saw in you.”

“Mmm. Nor I, Lady Vesey.”

Leona flounced out of the room, and Mr. Cobb turned to look at Cleybourne with a new respect.

“Well, aren’t you the downy one, Your Grace. How did you know she and the good minister were…” He hesitated, cutting his eyes toward Jessica, and added, “Beg pardon, miss.”

“Because I was keeping watch tonight. After all that has happened, I thought it would be a good idea.” His mouth tightened. “Unfortunately, I was no longer looking when Mrs. Woods met her demise.” He kept his gaze on the Runner, careful not to glance in Jessica’s direction.

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Cobb mused. “That one’s the sort that could make any man forget his collar.”

They began to interview the men after that, but their questioning met with little more success. Mr. Goodrich, eyes blinking, shifting in his seat, told them that he had been in bed, sound asleep, and had seen and heard nothing. Lord Vesey explained that he had been downstairs in Cleybourne’s study the whole time, drinking a bit of port, and since Richard had seen that fact for himself, there was little he could say to dispute it.

Reverend Radfield, too, professed no knowledge of what had happened. Pale and distracted, he sat lifelessly in his seat, staring most of the time at the floor a few feet in front of him.

“Where were you when you heard the scream?” Richard prodded.

“Um, in my chamber. Um, reading.” He shifted.

“Was there anyone else with you?”

The man’s eyes flew up to Richard’s face, and he looked at him for a long moment, then turned his gaze away. “Why—why do you ask?”

“It is rather important that you tell the truth now, sir,” Richard said, his gaze not leaving the other man.

“I—well, that is—” He cleared his throat and glanced over at Jessica, who was busy scribbling down his words. He turned back to Richard. “Yes,” he said finally in a low voice. “There was someone with me. I—you must understand, I cannot say who it was. A lady…her name…I cannot damage her reputation.”

“I see. Well, it is obvious that you do not know her well if you think that you could damage her reputation.”

Radfield opened his eyes wider and gave Cleybourne a startled look. “Your Grace!” Their gazes held for a moment, and it was Radfield who gave in. With a groan, he leaned forward, bracing his elbows on his knees and sinking his head to his upraised hands. “What is the use? Of course you’re right—there is nothing there to damage.” He clenched his hands in his hair. “To think that I was with that trollop while she was falling to her death!”

The young man broke off, drawing a ragged breath.

“When did Lady Vesey leave your room?”

Radfield shook his head, not looking at anyone in the room. “After the scream. We heard it, and then we ran out into the hall like everyone else.” He did at last raise his head then, looking at Cleybourne with a tortured expression. “I shall regret this night all my life.”

Lord Kestwick was next, and he strode into the room in a temper. “I say, Cleybourne, what do you mean, keeping me waiting all this time while you conversed with every—” He stopped as his gaze fell on Jessica. He swung back toward the door and saw that Cobb had followed him into the room and shut the door and was now settling down on a chair, leaning back in it and tilting its front legs off the floor. “What the devil! What is the meaning of this? Don’t tell me you expect me to talk to you with—with these people in the room.”

The expression on his face was that of a person who had been asked to share his space with rats. He turned to Richard imperiously. “See here, it is one thing to discuss this matter with you. You are a peer. But a governess? A Bow Street Runner?”

“Miss Maitland is here to take notes, Lord Kestwick. It seems she has had some experience with that. And I would think that a Runner would be a particularly appropriate person to have at this interview. There is, after all, the possibility of foul play.”

Kestwick rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what maggot’s gotten into your head. I mean, really, Cleybourne, don’t you think you are being a trifle dramatic about the whole thing?”

“I usually find that death is a dramatic event,” Richard responded coolly.

“But I mean, all this questioning and suspicion. My God, the woman just took a tumble.”

“How do you know that?” Richard asked quietly. “Did you see her?”

“Of course not! I was in my bed asleep—as I wish I were right now.”

“You seem uncommonly cool about this whole thing, Kestwick,” Richard said casually, “for a man who just had the recently deceased in his bedroom.”

“The devil!” Kestwick exclaimed, and across the room, Mr. Cobb’s chair came back down on its front legs with a crash. Kestwick stared at Cleybourne for a long moment, then said bitingly, “So you have been spying on your guests?”

“I have been somewhat cautious since I found an intruder in this room the other night.” Richard paused, then went on. “Now, would you like to tell us about Mrs. Woods?”