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Harry nodded. “Of course. Miss Livingstone has endured enough gossip lately. There’s no need to add to it.”
“She has only herself to blame.”
My blood rose, hot and thick. I couldn’t stay silent any longer, even though some part of me knew it was futile to voice my opinion. “Does Mr. McDonald deserve none of the blame for seducing her?”
Lord Cremorne frowned at me, seeing me for the first time. “A girl worthy of being the future Lady Cremorne doesn’t allow herself to be seduced. My son’s wife must be beyond reproach.”
“Pity your son isn’t.”
Lord Cremorne leaned forward and studied me closely. “Do I know you?”
“No,” Harry said as he ushered me past the waiting butler and out of the office. His firm grip on my elbow didn’t loosen until we reached the ground floor entrance hall.
The door opened just as the footman reached for the doorknob. Jonathon strode in but stopped upon seeing us. His jaw dropped and his gaze slid from me to Harry.
“You again,” he snapped.
Again?
Jonathon turned to me. “What are you doing here with him?”
Harry’s grip tightened once more. “We were just leaving.”
“Kindly release Miss Fox and allow her to speak for herself. She doesn’t need anyone else to speak for her, let alone a former employee of her uncle’s.”
Harry tensed, although he did release me. He clasped his hands at his back. I wondered if that was to stop himself from punching Jonathon’s nose.
Considerable diplomacy was required to diffuse the situation. Unfortunately, I was still annoyed by Lord Cremorne’s comments and diplomacy was beyond me. “Do stop the chest beating, Jonathon.”
He stiffened.
“To answer your question, we’re here to speak to your father about the night of the murder.”
He made a scoffing sound in his throat. “You’re still continuing with this ridiculous endeavor?”
“Investigating a murder isn’t ridiculous.”
“The police have arrested the killer. You’re wasting your time, Cleo. Not to mention, it’s unworthy of you. Not just the activity, but spending all your time with…” He jutted his jaw in Harry’s direction.
“Just as I am capable of speaking for myself, I’m also capable of deciding what—and who—is worthy of my time.”
Jonathon pressed his lips together and drew in a deep breath. Reining in his temper perhaps? “Cleo, can we talk in private?”
“No. I have to go.”
“I’ll wait for you outside,” Harry said, his voice dark but no longer angry.
I must have looked as though I wanted to throttle him for abandoning me, because he added, “He’s right. You need to talk.” To Jonathon, he said, “Cleo helps me from time to time when I have to question someone of your father’s caliber. I find they open up more in the presence of someone with gentle breeding. She’s never in harm’s way and her reputation is always foremost on my mind, and hers. Be assured, there’s no need for alarm.”
Jonathon looked as shocked by the speech as I felt. Neither of us had the presence of mind to respond.
Harry left but paused in the doorway. He mouthed “Be nice” to me. With his back to Harry, Jonathon didn’t see. The footman closed the door then melted away into the shadows.
While I understood why Harry was worried, he didn’t need to be. Jonathon may not like me investigating, but he wouldn’t do anything about it. If Floyd was willing to let it slide, Jonathon had no reason to interfere. It wasn’t his place, and a gentleman never overstepped.
“Come into the sitting room,” he said.
“No. We have nothing to say to one another.” He winced and I regretted my unkind tone. “I like you, Jonathon. You’re a good friend to Floyd, and he certainly needs friends right now.”
