Kendra blew out an annoyed breath. “How can cops help when no one speaks up?”
Sam scratched the side of his nose to hide his confusion. What, he wondered, was a cop? American slang for Bow Street Runner? Still, he got the spirit of what she was saying. Apparently, folks in America had the same mistrust of the law as they did in London Town.
“Was she able to describe the man?” she asked.
“She said he wasn’t fat, not elderly because he was fast, taller than me, and dressed like a gentleman.” He watched her write it on the slate board. “A description I reckon fits most of London.”
“Not everyone. Lord Westford is too big and old to have been chasing Edwina,” Kendra pointed out. “Of course, that doesn’t mean he didn’t hire someone to do it.”
Sam shook his head. “Most assailants hired ter commit murder come from the stews. They wouldn’t be dressed like a gentleman.”
Kendra looked thoughtful. “That’s not enough to eliminate the possibility. I found out that Lord Westford has another family.”
Sam kept his expression neutral as Kendra explained. He wasn’t surprised. Such arrangements were common enough, especially in the Polite World, where marriage was more often about business than love.
“Mr. O’Leary—Westford’s illegitimate son—is young and most likely dresses like a gentleman,” Kendra pointed out when she was done.
Sam couldn’t mistake the implication, but had to argue, “Why would Mr. O’Leary wish ter harm her ladyship? They’ve no connection other than she was married ter his father.”
“Mr. O’Leary is older than Lord Westford’s biological son, but because of the circumstance of his birth, he won’t inherit the title or money. That could make a person bitter.”
Sam shook his head. “Mr. O’Leary’s half-brother will naturally inherit the title and entailed estates, but that doesn’t mean Mr. O’Leary or any of Lord Westford’s illegitimate offspring will be left penniless. In fact, Lord Westford appears ter have taken an interest in their welfare, if the oldest was trained as a barrister and now works in Parliament. Not every nobleman cares what happens ter his by-blows.”
He paused, then added, “Mr. O’Leary may resent the circumstance of his birth, but he had no reason ter murder his father’s wife. Her death changes nothing about his circumstances.”
“I know how difficult divorce is in this ti—” She broke off abruptly, a strange expression crossing her face, and said firmly, “In England.”
“I reckon in America it’s easier ter get a divorce,” he said carefully, even as he wondered at her reaction. It wasn’t the first time that the lass had stopped herself, as if she was about to speak out of turn. Sam had known Kendra Donovan—Lady Sutcliffe now, he corrected himself—for more than a year. For all her spunk and cleverness, she was . . . peculiar. She had a broad understanding of the criminal element that Sam had never seen in his fellow men, much less in a woman.
The Duke had once hired him to investigate her background, how she’d come to England. And he’d found . . . nothing.Absolutely nothing. That was an oddity he couldn’t explain. Everyone left some kind of trail: a name on a ship manifest, or a captain or crew member who recognized her. She was too pretty and, yes, too peculiar, with her American accent and strange ways, tonotbe remembered.
She was a puzzle, to be sure, but he realized that it didn’t matter. He’d follow the lass to the ends of the earth if she asked it of him.
“Will Lord Westford be able to marry Mrs. O’Leary now?” Kendra asked, bringing his attention back to the topic at hand.
“It’s possible, but it would certainly cause a scandal,” said a new voice. The Marquis of Sutcliff sauntered into the library. “Even if he did marry her, it would change nothing. Mrs. O’Leary’s children would still have been born out of wedlock.”
“Mr. Kelly said the same thing,” Kendra admitted. She tapped her chin with the piece of slate. “Maybe it has less to do with the children and more to do with Lord Westford marrying the woman he loves. He wouldn’t be the first husband to hire someone to kill his wife in order to marry his mistress.”
Alec moved to the sideboard and pulled a stopper out of crystal decanter. “Lord and Lady Westford were married comfortably for thirty years. Why murder her now?”
“How do you know their marriage was comfortable?” she challenged.
Alec gave a quick laugh. “Touché. However, Lady St. James is a reliable source for this type of information, I believe. Mr. Kelly, a glass of whisky?”
“Aye, thank you, sir.” Sam eyed the glass appreciatively as Alec brought it over to him.
Kendra said, “One never knows what goes on behind closed doors—not even Lady St. James. I think you should ask Lord Westford if he’s planning to marry Mrs. O’Leary.”
Sam stared at her with the same shock as her husband.
“You want me to interrogate his lordship about whether he’s going to marry his mistress?” Alec said. “And I suppose I ought to ask if his wife was in the way?”
“Interrogate is a strong word. Consider it collecting information.”
“Oh, I’ll be sure to tell him that when he gets insulted by the implication that he had his wife murdered,” Alec muttered, taking a swallow of his whisky.
“I don’t care about his feelings. He rushed to have his wife’s death declared an accident, to shut down any investigation. I don’t like it.”
