“Good morning, my lady. Would you care for tea or coffee?”
“Coffee, thank you.” Maybe thanking servants wasn’t the thing to do, but she wasn’t going to worry about it.You can take the girl out of the twenty-first century, but you can’t take the twenty-first century out of the girl.
“Where’s Alec?” asked the Duke, sitting down at the table with his plate. “I thought he’d be at his bride’s side.”
“He’s out riding.”
The Duke reached for a toast point, then spread butter and jam on it. “I’m sure Alec would arrange riding lessons for you.”
The mere thought of trying to control a thousand-pound animal made her mouth go dry. But she wasn’t going to admit that. “I’m a little too busy right now,” she said instead. “I’ve got to start a timeline to track Lady Westford’s movements up until the day she died: where she went, who she met, what she was involved in.”
“I took the liberty of having something delivered to you shortly that might help,” he said.
She’d picked up a plate and spoon to ladle the eggs, but now glanced at the aristocrat over her shoulder. “What is it?”
He gave her a mysterious smile. “You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Okay. But just so you know, I’ve got a reputation for breaking the most hardened suspects in the interview room.”
He laughed. “Duly noted.”
Kendra brought her plate over to the table and sat down across from the Duke. “I realize that you didn’t know Lady Westford well, but did you ever hear any rumors about her? Or Lord Westford?”
The humor faded from the Duke’s face as he considered the questions. “Nothing that would result in her murder.” He sighed and shook his head. “Caro would know, as she tends to keep up with town gossip.”
“I can guess who she corresponds with—Lady St. James.” Lady St. James was one of London’s most notorious gossips. If there were any whispers swirling around Lady Westford, she would know. “I already decided to call on her today.”
“She would know the on-dit.Of course, she’ll also share whatever you discuss with her. I think Her Majesty was hoping for more discretion.”
Kendra shrugged. “I don’t have a lot of choice. I need information, and I need it fast.” And it wasn’t like she could tap into a slew of databases or the dark web. Here, all she had was Lady St. James.
The Duke lifted his teacup. “I have a few meetings at my club. I’m certain Lady Westford’s death will be the main topic of conversation and there will be plenty of theories as to what happened.” He sipped, then put down the porcelain cup. “I’ll let you know if I hear anything interesting.”
The door opened and Kendra looked over as Alec came through carrying a bouquet of dazzling yellow, orange-gold, and white daffodils, sprinkled liberally with soft blue forget-me-nots.
“Good morning, uncle,” he said, but his eyes were on Kendra. Smiling, he brought the flowers to her. “For my lovely bride.”
Surprised, Kendra stared at the bouquet. Then she pushed herself to her feet, her throat tightening unexpectedly as she accepted the gift. “They’re beautiful.”
“Wherever did you find daffodils at this time of year, Alec?” the Duke asked.
“Standish.”
“Ah.”
Kendra glanced at them in confusion. “Where’s Standish?”
Alec smiled, lifting a finger to tease the stray curl lying against her cheek. “Not a where—a who. Barnaby Camden, the Earl of Standish. He has a prodigious fondness for horticulture, which he indulges with an impressive greenhouse at his London residence. I thought my wife deserved better than the posies hawked by street vendors. Standish gave me a tour of his collection, and a rather long-winded lecture on what every flower represents. Apparently, daffodils are hope for the future. I thought it was fitting for us and the future we will make together.”
Kendra pressed her nose into the velvety petals, breathing in their delicate scent.
“I asked that he include the forget-me-nots because I never want you to forget where—when—you came from. I know that is who you are, sweetheart.”
She let out a shaky breath, raising her eyes to her husband. “No one has ever given me flowers before.”
There was a beat of silence. Then Alec shook his head. “How the devil did America win the war when it’s populated by fools?”
Kendra gave a soft laugh. Romance had never factored into her life before. Her parents had choreographed her every waking minute until she’d enrolled in Princeton at the age of fourteen. Their attempt to exert their authority on her there had caused her to rebel, and they’d washed their hands of her. It had been a scary time, and survival had meant becoming laser-focused on her studies. Not that fourteen-year-old college students were invited to frat parties. Her classmates had viewed her as the child she was. She’d been alone, a social pariah.A freak.
