“Mr. Parker mentioned it. He said . . . ah, that witnesses described Lady Westford as being distressed.”
“Distressed about what?”
“That I do not know. Mr. Parker didn’t say.”
“You haven’t answered the question. Do you believe that Lady Westford’s death was an accident?” Alec asked.
The doctor averted his gaze. “’Tis my official assessment.”
Another answer/nonanswer,Kendra mused. “When is the inquest?”
“There is no inquest, as it was not a suspicious death.”
Kendra stared at him. “Nota suspicious death, Doctor? The woman went into an empty theater, climbed to the top balcony, and fell to her death. If that’s not suspicious, I don’t know what is.”
Thornton stiffened. “Given her ladyship’s status, it was determined that it would be best for the incident to be resolved quickly.”
“Who made that determination, Lucien?” Munroe demanded.
“Lord Westford’s sensibilities—”
“Should never have been considered,” Munroe snapped. “We take an oath to pursue the truth, Lucien. ’Tis what the Metamorphosis Club is about.”
Thornton’s jaw tightened. “I know what the club is about. I was one of its founders!” He drew in an uneven breath, and then raised a hand. “Forgive me, Ethan, but you tend to the dead. You have forgotten what it’s like dealing with the living. The sensitivities that must be considered.”
Munroe opened his mouth to respond, but closed it abruptly when Jenny materialized in the doorway.
“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir.” She flushed when everyone looked at her. “A message came for milady. Mr. Kelly’ll meet ye at Lord Westford’s residence. He said ter tell you: Her ladyship is at home.”
Chapter 6
“I don’t know what to think,” Munroe admitted as the carriage barreled down the road. “I’m afraid Lucien must have acquiesced to Lord Westford’s sensibilities and declared the death an accident, regardless of the truth. It’s unacceptable.”
Kendra met his troubled gaze. “Whatever he did—or didn’t do—has nothing to do with you, Dr. Munroe. If mistakes were made, we’ll put it right. It’s interesting that Lady Westford was at the theater the day before she died there.” And that bit of information meant they had to visit the theater sooner rather than later.
Now, though, her gaze was drawn to Westford’s Georgian red-brick mansion in the exclusive St. James Square. Sam Kelly was waiting on the stoop with another man, both of whom walked down the pebbled path to wait for them to climb out of the carriage. When they had, Sam introduced his companion as Mr. Parker of Bow Street.
Kendra studied the other Bow Street Runner. Mid-thirties, and opposite Sam in every way: tall and lean, with honey-blond hair cropped in the fashionable Brutus style. His clothes were tailored and pressed, his cravat flawlessly tied, his Hessian boots polished—and dust-free. Unlike Sam, whose Sunday-best clothes were now wrinkled and grimy, his boots caked in mud, after his two-hour horseback ride to London. She recalled Muldoon’s words that Parker was more politician than policeman. One look at him, and she decided the reporter was right.
Mr. Parker bowed. His blue eyes twinkled as they traveled over Alec and Kendra before settling on the Duke. Like most politicians, Kendra reflected, he had an uncanny knack for zeroing in on the most prestigious person in the group.
“Mr. Kelly has explained that you have concerns over Lady Westford’s death,” he said with an ingratiating smile. “I can assure you, as far as Bow Street is concerned, it was an accident. The case is closed. You needn’t have any fears on that score.”
He didn’t wink, but Kendra felt he might as well have. He was practically admitting there was a cover-up, and was damn proud of it.
“Excuse me, I need to see the body,” Kendra said abruptly, brushing past him as she strode to the door. The customary funerary hatchment was hung above the knocker, and the curtains were drawn tight across the windows to indicate a death in the family.
Alec joined her, reaching past her to knock on the door.
“I say!” Parker exclaimed, flabbergasted, as he hurried to catch up. “I’ve just explained that her ladyship’s death was an accident. There’s no need to disturb his lordship.”
Kendra shot him a frosty glance. “I heard you. Is it the truth?”
Parker’s lips parted in surprise. “The truth . . .” He cast a quick glance around him, as if seeking support from the men against this madwoman. When none came, he pivoted back to Kendra, blue eyes narrowing. “The truth is something that Lord Westford may not want known, if you take my meaning, ma’am.”
“I take your meaning, Mr. Parker,” she said, and summoned a pleasant smile. “And I don’t care what Lord Westford wants.”
She caught Sam’s quick grin and heard Parker’s swift intake of breath as she turned and, bypassing the knocker, banged on the door.
