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He looked down at his feet.
“But we’re not suited. You need someone who was born and raised in your world. Someone who appreciates all this.” I indicated the large entrance hall with the crystal chandelier hanging above our heads, the gilded clock on the table and paintings on the walls. “Your father understands that.”
He frowned. “What do you mean?” It was odd to me that he didn’t seem to know about the arrangement his father tried to broker with Mr. Livingstone, but perhaps Lord Cremorne wanted to be absolutely sure an arrangement could be brokered before breaking the news to his son.
“If you intend to court a woman in future, you ought to speak with your father first so there’s no…confusion.” Before he could ask me to clarify, I added, “Let’s remain friends, and we’ll laugh about this in years to come.”
He glanced at the closed door. “You can do better than him.”
“There is nothing going on between Harry and me, nor will there ever be. But that doesn’t mean there will be anything going on between us, either.” I pointed at him then myself. “The sooner you accept that I am determined never to marry, the happier you’ll be. It’s not personal, Jonathon.”
“I see now that you are determined. Does he see it too?”
“Harry accepts that we are merely associates.” I gave a dismissive wave. “We’re not even friends. Neither of us could bring ourselves to be friendly with the other. I had him dismissed from his position at the hotel, for goodness’ sake. It’s hardly a solid foundation for a friendship.” I bit down on my tongue to stop myself rambling. It was a sure clue that I was lying. Not that Jonathon would know that about me. He hardly even knew me.
He opened the door. “You should go.” It was said without heat or bitterness, thankfully.
I stepped out. “What did you mean when you said ‘You again?’ Are you referring to when you saw Harry with me in the hotel a few days ago?”
He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. He looked past me to Harry, waiting on the pavement. “Good day, Cleo. Perhaps I’ll see you later.” His attempted smile was unconvincing, but at least he tried.
I tried too, hopefully with more conviction. I was certainly relieved that he wasn’t angry anymore. My little speech about not being Harry’s friend must have worked.
“All’s well,” I said when I joined Harry.
He fell into step beside me. “Are you sure? He didn’t look like he’d accepted you investigating with me.”
“He hasn’t and he won’t, but that doesn’t mean he’ll do anything about it. He’s a wretch, but he’s not cruel. He’s no Ambrose McDonald.”
Harry glanced sideways at me. “What did you say to him?”
“I explained how things are between you and me. Or, rather, how things aren’t. As far as he’s aware, you and I barely put up with each other.”
“He believed that?”
“I think so. He’s arrogant enough to assume I wouldn’t be interested in a former employee of my uncle’s.”
“Indeed,” he muttered.
Chapter14
We parted on Piccadilly outside the hotel. We’d once again come to a dead end in our investigation. While Mr. Livingstone had an alibi for the time of the murder, Amelia did not. I couldn’t recall seeing her dancing the entire time. She was still a suspect.
As I often did when an investigation stalled, I talked to Harmony and the other staff. We made lists in the parlor and talked through what we knew about each of our suspects. It amounted to a lot of motives, but no proof.
“You need to speak to all the staff who worked on the night of the ball,” Harmony pointed out.
“We have. The only one we haven’t spoken to is the maid calling herself Jane Eyre. I suspect she’ll know something, considering she was the one who accepted payment from Mr. McDonald, but unless she shows up at Searcys office asking for more work, our hands are tied. We have no way of finding her.”
“You should use your detective skills.”
I arched my brows. “And where do you suggest we start?”
“I don’t know. You’re the detective, not me.”
Victor frowned. “Jane Eyre…the name sounds familiar.”
Harmony rolled her eyes. “It’s fake. Jane Eyre is a character from a book.”
