“Where was she going?”
“I have no idea.”
“You didn’t ask?”
“No, I did not. She appeared to be in a hurry, as was I.”
“Did you notice her mood—other than she seemed to be in a hurry?”
He was silent for a long moment, then shook his head. “She was preoccupied—which is normal for a lady-in-waiting. Being inside the Palace is . . . stressful, especially given the King’s troubles. There are always worries when dealing with the royals.”
“Did she tell you if anything was bothering her?”
“I just told you, no.”
“And you never saw her on Friday, Saturday, or Sunday?”
“I dislike having to repeat myself, my lady. The last time I saw and spoke to Grace was Thursday morning.”
Kendra contemplated him. “That’s a long time to go without seeing your wife. Weren’t you worried?”
“As a lady-in-waiting, Grace would spend days—and nights—with the Queen. Regardless, Grace and I have never lived in one another’s pockets.”
“Where were you on Sunday morning, my lord?” she asked.
Lord Westford’s eyes lit up with fury. “Do you dare imply that I killed my wife?”
“I’m asking where you were on Sunday morning.”
“Your Grace, this is—”
“A necessary line of questioning,” the Duke said. “I’ve found the best way to deal with it is to answer Lady Sutcliffe’s questions and be done with it.”
The earl’s broad face tightened. Kendra wondered if he’d resist answering out of sheer spite. Or perhaps arrogance. But he surprised her by saying, “I was with a friend.”
“What’s the name of your friend?”
Lord Westford’s nostrils flared. “I will not have you disturbing my friends with senseless interrogation. And I find your implication that I killed my wife insulting, Lady Sutcliffe.” He turned his hostile gaze on the Duke. “Your Grace, I have been more than generous with my time. I shall not answer another question. Good day.”
The earl strode out the door without a backward glance. A few seconds later, the butler—Pentagross—materialized to escort them out. Parker frowned at Munroe and Sam, then followed Kendra, Alec, and the Duke outside.
“I must return to Bow Street,” Parker announced, turning his collar up on his greatcoat as a gust of icy wind buffeted them. “I assume Mr. Kelly will be assisting you with your inquiries and my services are no longer required?”
“It is no disrespect, Mr. Parker. We are simply familiar with Mr. Kelly,” the Duke said.
Parker waved that away. “I have plenty of other tasks that I must attend to. I wish you luck, and good day.”
As the Bow Street Runner walked quickly down the street, Alec observed, “He seems remarkably sanguine for someone who has been replaced.”
Kendra laughed. “If Mr. Parker has political ambitions, the last place he’ll want to be is between Lord Westford and the Duke of Aldridge.”
“And Her Majesty,” Alec added, grinning.
The humor ebbed at they walked to the carriage.
“How did Dr. Thornton miss something so obvious?” Kendra asked, frowning. “I thought that he rushed the verdict to cover up a suicide, but he couldn’t have thought Lady Westford killed herself.”
“Maybe he truly believes it was an accident,” the Duke said, holding onto his hat to prevent it from flying off in another blast of wind.
