“Now . . .” She tipped her flute and finished her champagne. “I need to find Lady St. James so she can introduce me to Lady Harrington.”
“You don’t need Lady St. James for that, my dear. Jane and I have a long friendship. I shall introduce you.”
***
At sixty-one, Lady Jane Harrington was still attractive, with a fine-boned face that sagged a bit here and there but was remarkably free of wrinkles. In a time before laser and skin peels, injections and fillers, Kendra knew this was primarily due to studious avoidance of the sun. The matron’s hair, more silver than brown, was swept into an elaborate updo and was decorated with diamonds and pearls that matched her drop earrings and a glittering necklace that looked like it could bankroll a small country.
Lady Harrington stood on the sidelines with several other matrons, including Lady St. James, whose eyes lit up at their approach. “Your Grace, Lady Sutcliffe, good evening.” She snapped her feathered fan shut. “May I introduce you to our hostess, Lady Harrington? And this is—”
“Bertie, how are you?” Lady Harrington interrupted, stepping forward with a hand outstretched to the Duke. “It’s been ages since I last saw you. Still prefer the fresh air of the country over the frivolities of town?”
He bent to plant a chivalrous kiss on the back of her gloved hand. “The skies in London confound me. I can never make out the stars through the smoke. Although the ceaseless clouds and rain have made it difficult for me to use my telescope at Aldridge Castle as well.” He returned her smile. “You look charming as usual, Jane.”
“You may need to purchase a pair of spectacles, Bertie, but thank you for your kind words. And this must be your ward, Miss Donovan. Except”—she tapped the lace-trimmed fan against her chin as she surveyed Kendra—“she’s no longer a miss, is she? She married that devilishly handsome nephew of yours.”
“She did,” said the Duke. “Jane, this is Kendra, Marchioness of Sutcliffe. Kendra, may I introduce Jane Stanhope, Countess of Harrington.”
“I can see why Sutcliffe took himself out of the marriage mart when he met you, Lady Sutcliffe. You are quite lovely, my dear. Would you care to walk with me for a moment?”
Kendra had been wondering how she could extract the countess from her group of friends, and was a little surprised when Lady Harrington was the one to arrange it. Lady St. James’s smile drooped a little, undoubtedly disappointed that she wouldn’t be able to eavesdrop on their conversation.
Kendra fell into step beside the matron. For a moment, they didn’t speak, instead listening to the music and the underlying sounds: the murmur of conversation, laughter, the whisper of silk, satin, and velvet skirts.
“I actually came here tonight because I wanted to speak with you, my lady,” Kendra said in a low voice, glancing at the aristocrat’s regal profile.
“I know.”
She lifted her eyebrows. “You do?”
“Of course.” Lady Harrington kept her gaze fixed on the crowd, smiling and nodding as they swept by. “I am one of Her Majesty’s Ladies of the Bedchamber. I not only serve the Queen, but I care about her a great deal. I saw how disturbed she was when we learned about Grace’s death.” She shot Kendra a quick look out of the corner of her eye. “We are aware that it was ruled an accident, but that won’t stop rumors from suggesting something else.”
“Suicide.”
“Yes. The idea was extremely vexing to Her Majesty. Grace would never do such a vile thing. I have heard about you . . . and your investigations.” That was said with another glance, her eyes glinting with amusement. “Amelia quite enjoys sharing every tidbit of information she comes across.”
“Amelia?”
“Lady St. James.”
“Oh. Yes, she does.”
“Amelia can be an entertaining companion, but I have little time or use for gossip. When you or your family are the ones whispered about, it can be quite tedious. You’ve no doubt heard about my notorious mother-in-law and sister.” She pinned Kendra with a shrewd look. “No need to answer that, my dear. I can see that you have. Well, that is neither here nor there. The stories I’ve heard aboutyouare much more interesting.”
“You were the one who told the Queen about me,” Kendra said.
“Her Majesty had heard rumors before, but yes, I am the one who suggested that your unusual expertise could be utilized to find out the truth about Grace’s death.” She gave a small smile. “I do apologize for ruining your honeymoon.”
“Why didn’t you come to me directly and ask me to look into the matter?”
“I am used to the politics of the royal court—very little is done directly, my dear. Besides, I’m familiar with your husband.” She smiled at Kendra as they turned a corner. “Only a royal decree would have stopped him from whisking his bride off on a honeymoon. A royal request is just as good.”
Kendra said nothing. She didn’t like being manipulated, but at the same time, she had to admire the woman’s strategic skills.
“The evidence indicates Lady Westford was murdered,” she said at last.
Lady Harrington didn’t express shock or horror. Instead, she maintained her pleasant expression, nodding. “I feared it would be so. An accident is simply too bizarre. Have you any thoughts on who could have done such a despicable thing?”
“It’s early days. When was the last time you saw Lady Westford?”
