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“Unbearable is putting it lightly,” he muttered. “He shouldn’t have tried to court you while his father was in negotiations with Livingstone.”
“I don’t think he knew.”
He merely grunted.
Lord Cremorne lived on Chapel Street, a stone’s throw from the grounds of Buckingham Palace. The townhouse was handsome rather than elegant, however, and not overly large compared to some I’d been in, but it would have cost a fortune to purchase. I tilted my head back to take it all in.
“They only moved in five or six years ago,” Harry said. “I recall Hartly complaining to your cousin about its size. The house they owned before it, around the corner on Grosvenor Crescent, was much larger.”
“Why did they move?”
“Why does anyone move into a smaller residence? Because they were having financial difficulties. Still are, if the rumors are true. Apparently Lord Cremorne might need to sell up and move permanently back to his estate if things don’t turn around for them soon.”
“No wonder his father was trying to marry Jonathon to the wealthy Amelia Livingstone.”
I could feel Harry watching me, but when I turned to look at him, he pretended to study the door knocker.
“Imagine if I’d encouraged Jonathon… I could have been mistress of all this.” I indicated the house. “Well, until the money disappeared entirely.” I couldn’t help laughing at the absurdity of it. “Lord Cremorne would have been livid to be saddled with a poor nobody for a daughter-in-law.”
I thought it was all rather amusing, but Harry merely grunted.
He stepped up to the door and slammed the brass knocker down. Even if the butler was nearly deaf and at the back of the house, he would have heard it.
The door opened and Harry introduced us as consultants for Scotland Yard. The butler checked with his master and returned a few moments later to escort us up to Lord Cremorne’s office.
I kept my head low while trying to look out for Jonathon. It wouldn’t be a complete disaster if he saw me. He already knew that I was investigating Ambrose McDonald’s murder. Even so, I didn’t want to explain my presence to him. I didn’t want to see him at all. He was most likely still in bed, anyway. It wasn’t yet midday.
If I wanted to know what Jonathon would look like in twenty-five years’ time, I only had to look at Lord Cremorne. Their features were arranged the same, and they both possessed piercing blue eyes. His hair was mostly still blond except for two gray patches at his temples. It was thin, however, not lush like his son’s. But idleness and indulgence had caught up to Lord Cremorne, as they would one day with Jonathon if he didn’t curb his excesses. The lines across his forehead were deep, and pouches of skin sagged beneath his eyes and jowls. He sat sprawled in the chair, his girth testing his waistcoat buttons.
“This is about the murder of that fellow at the Bunburys’?” he asked, giving Harry his full attention.
“It is.” Harry introduced us without naming me. While I didn’t recognize Lord Cremorne, and he clearly didn’t know me, it was safer to keep my name out of it. I doubted he would have remembered it anyway, just as I doubted he would remember me after we left. He didn’t even look at me.
Lord Cremorne was grave. “The murder was an unfortunate occurrence, but I don’t understand why you’re here. I thought the police arrested the murderer.”
“There are still some loose ends. One of which is vouching for where all the guests were at the time of the murder.”
“Including me?” He sounded amused, as one is when a child asks a foolish question.
“Everyone.”
“When I heard the scream, I was in a sitting room having a conversation with an acquaintance. He can vouch for me. Livingstone’s his name.”
“And before that?”
“Here and there, but I can assure you, McDonald was very much alive when I went into the sitting room with Livingstone. I saw him in the library. Livingstone was just leaving him, as it happens.”
“What was your conversation with Livingstone about?”
“I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”
Harry waited.
After a moment in which the men stared at one another like prize fighters in the ring, Lord Cremorne said, “Ah. I see. You’ve come from Livingstone’s and wish to test my story against his, looking for inconsistencies. Eh? Good man. You’ve clearly done this sort of thing before. Since I like to see an enterprising young fellow choose an honorable career path, I will answer you, even though it goes against my instincts to discuss a private matter with a stranger.” He shifted his weight in the chair. “Livingstone and I were discussing the marriage of his daughter to my son. However, we could not come to terms. There you have it. All above board.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Keep that between ourselves, shall we? No need for the world to know our business.”
