AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“She thinks it was a lovers’ tiff. Annie heard Lady Bunbury use the word betrayal. She also said she wished she’d never trusted him and brought him into her confidence, and that her husband is furious with her.”
She had to be referring to telling Mr. McDonald about their financial difficulty. He’d gained her trust in bed then she’d told him everything. Had he already suspected and therefore targeted her, charming her until she confided in him? Or had their relationship been based on mutual desire and he’d never planned to blackmail her but the opportunity was too good to ignore?
Either way, he really was a cad. “All these confidences betrayed and hearts broken. It’s no wonder he was murdered. What did Annie say Mr. McDonald said to Lady Bunbury?”
“She couldn’t hear his response, but he showed no emotion. Annie went so far as to say that Mr. McDonald didn’t care for her as much as Lady Bunbury cared for him.” She brushed out my hair, sighing over how easily the bristles passed through it. Her tight springy curls were the bane of her existence, so she’d once told me after I said I adored them.
“Now we know the source of the gossip for the Bunburys’ blackmail,” I said. “It’s not the temporary maid who worked for Searcys. It was Lady Bunbury herself.”
“She should have been more careful who she took into her confidence.”
“You sound like Flossy.”
She piled half of my hair on top of my head and studied the affect in the reflection. “Your cousin isn’t as silly as she seems.”
I watched as she secured my hair into place with pins and finished off with combs decorated in soft green enamel of the same shade as the dress and my eyes. My mind was elsewhere, however. I couldn’t stop thinking about the case and what this new development meant.
We already knew the Bunburys were being blackmailed by Ambrose McDonald, but now we knew Lady Bunbury was the one who’d told him about their financial woes. He’d betrayed her trust in the cruelest way, just like he’d betrayed Amelia Livingstone. It was no wonder she was angry with him on the night of the ball.
Angry enough to hit him over the head with a candlestick in her own house at her own party?
Harmony stepped back and declared me ready. “I forgot to ask… Did you get stopped taking my cart to the storeroom?”
“Mr. Chapman saw me afterwards. I told him I was there to get a clean towel.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Of all the people to find you, it had to be him.”
I dearly wanted to discuss what Harry had told me about Mr. Chapman visiting the Portland Club and being blackmailed by the victim, but Harry was right. I couldn’t confide in the staff. The steward’s secret would have to remain with us.
But that secret connected Mr. Chapman to Mr. McDonald. Despite our reservations over confronting him, I knew deep down it must be done. Their relationship needed to be explored further, and I knew just the way to do it. Unfortunately it meant missing tonight’s dinner.
I didn’t inform Harmony of my plans. I let her go to Flossy’s suite then waited until the last moment to inform my aunt and uncle that I had a headache and didn’t feel up to dining out.
My aunt arrived in my suite with her bottle of tonic. She sat on the edge of the bed where I lay fully clothed on top of the covers, a damp cloth over my eyes. “You poor thing, Dear. Here. Try this. It helps.”
I refused the tonic and bit back my lecture about its obvious addictive quality. Going by her twitching facial muscles, bright eyes, and busy hands, she was clearly already trapped in its dark embrace. She wouldn’t want to hear my warning now. She wanted to enjoy the confidence and energy it gave her.
“I just need to rest tonight,” I said. “I think I overdid it at afternoon tea with Flossy’s friends.”
She patted my arm. “You’re not used to all this socializing. It does take a toll. I remember last year, in Florence’s first season, she slept through the day a lot of the time. Perhaps you should too. There’s no need to wake so early and do whatever it is you do. Where were you today?”
“The museum.”
It wouldn’t have mattered what I said. She wasn’t listening. Her attention had been caught by the things on my dressing table. She moved them around, rearranging jars of creams, bottles of perfumes, and sifting through the box of combs.
“Are you looking for something, Aunt?”
She closed the box and smiled. “Just having a little rummage. Do you need help with your dress?” She returned to the bed and unfastened the back of my gown then kissed my forehead. “Goodnight, Dear. Promise me you won’t read. It’ll only make the headache worse.”
“I promise.”
She hurried out of the bedroom with brisk steps and I heard the suite’s door close behind her. I breathed a sigh of relief.
I waited until nine when my family were well and truly gone and Mr. Chapman was in the dining room. He prided himself on attention to detail and personal service. Once the first guests arrived, he wouldn’t leave until the last ones left.
Dressed in plainer clothes, I headed downstairs to the foyer. The night porter, Phillip, nodded a greeting but didn’t question why I was there. The two doormen stood on duty at the front entrance where they would remain for a few more hours to welcome back guests returning from the theater or dining out. I hoped they wouldn’t mention seeing me to my family upon their return.
I made a show of taking one of the newspapers from the stack at the post desk and reading the front page. When Philip wandered away to the far end of the foyer, I slipped past the smoking room and billiards room into the senior staff area. With the renovations in progress, much of the corridor was cordoned off, providing me with some coverage as I bent to pick the lock on the door to Mr. Chapman and Mrs. Short’s office.
