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Chapter Nine
“Lady Whitney is a suspect,” Mr. Tumilson told Eleanor and her father the next day. “I need more time before I can conclude she’s the culprit, but I want you both to know progress has been made on the case.”
“This is absurd.” Eleanor jumped up from the chair in the drawing room. “Stacey isn’t trying to harm me. She was very kind to me at the dinner party.”
“That kindness could have been an act,” Mr. Tumilson replied.
Eleanor turned to her father. “It’s not her. Nothing bad happened to me all evening while I was near her.”
Before she could continue, Mr. Tumilson said, “Why would she do something when we were all watching her? Granted, a few people are dumb enough to commit a crime when others are looking, but Lady Whitney is a noble lady. She knows better than to do something bad in front of everyone.”
Eleanor closed her eyes and prayed for strength to keep calm. She opened them. “She wasn’t at the theatre the night I almost fell off the balcony.”
“Just because you didn’t see her, it doesn’t mean she wasn’t there.”
“She’s a lady. How would she have been strong enough to loosen the wheel of a carriage?”
“She could have hired someone to loosen it.”
Eleanor turned to her father. “It’s not her. I know Stacey better than he does. I spent almost an hour with her and the other ladies in the drawing room last night. She’s a nice and respectable lady.”
“All criminals seem nice until the truth comes out,” Mr. Tumilson argued.
“We need to heed Mr. Tumilson’s warning,” her father said. “He has experience with this sort of thing. If he thinks Lady Whitney is a suspect, then we need to be wary of her.”
She grunted in frustration. Her father hadn’t even bothered to consider her side of the argument. He just blindly ran after everything Mr. Tumilson told him.
“I’m glad to see you’re able to listen to reason,” Mr. Tumilson told her father. “It’ll make my job easier.” He rose to his feet. “I’m going to watch Lady Whitney. If I discover anything important, I’ll let you know.”
“You’re going to spy on her?” Eleanor asked in shock.
“I suppose that’s one way you can look at it, but I prefer to think of it as doing my due diligence.” He straightened his waistcoat. “I need to find out her habits. It’s possible she’s acting out of pettiness, but her motives could be far more dangerous. Her husband is obviously impressed with you. He couldn’t stop singing your praises while he and I were with the other gentlemen in the library last evening.”
Eleanor’s eyebrows furrowed. “I only met him last night. How could she want to push me off a balcony or loosen a wheel from my carriage if she’s jealous of her husband’s praise of me?”
Mr. Tumilson blinked in surprise. She breathed a sigh of relief. Good. Now maybe they were getting somewhere.
Just when she thought Mr. Tumilson was going to admit she had a point, he said, “Perhaps her husband has admired you from afar. London has a lot of people, but I notice the nobility seem to frequent the same places. It could be that he saw you at a ball or some other social engagement and fell in love with you.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’m a wallflower who can’t attract anyone. Who is going to admire me from afar?”
“Youwerea wallflower. The Duchess of Ashbourne changed all of that. I saw the way you held yourself at the dinner party, and there’s no doubt gentlemen will be lining up to speak to you now.”
Her father perked up in interest. “You really think so?”
“I’m a man, aren’t I?” Mr. Tumilson told him. “The ugly duckling has turned into a swan.”
Her father looked at her in excitement. “Did you hear that? You’ll have your pick of suitors soon enough. We must find out when the next ball will be.”
She would have asked her father if he understood how ridiculous it was for Stacey’s husband to be interested in her before she went from an ugly duckling to a swan, but talking to him was pointless. He didn’t listen to her. In fact, he never listened to her about anything. When she said she wanted a certain gown, he insisted on a different one. When she thought a certain piece of jewelry or hairstyle would be flattering, he brushed off her thoughts and had her lady’s maid do something else. It wasn’t until the Duchess of Ashbourne intervened that she finally got to do what she wanted with her appearance.
Not hiding her annoyance, her gaze went to Mr. Tumilson. “I don’t understand how you can believe Lord Whitney fell in love with me from across the room at a ball when I was so ugly. That doesn’t make any sense.”
“To be fair, he is attracted to ladies who have intelligence and can share an interest in his books,” Mr. Tumilson said.
“I never talked to him before last evening,” she emphasized.
Unfortunately, he was undaunted by her logic. “Then perhaps his wife told him about you. She knew you before last evening.”
