Then, in a flurry of motion, another person joined them. He entered the room with swift strides, making his way to the head of the table without so much as a greeting for any of the seated guests. It was the same tall, silver-haired man she’d seen turning away from the balustrade upon their arrival—and the same bitter-faced man she recalled from the Kensal Green Cemetery all those years ago.
Viscount Cowper did not introduce himself to his guests as he sat down and snapped his fingers for the dinner to commence, nor did he make any excuses for his tardiness.
“I’ve been informed that the electric should be fixed by tomorrow, mid-morning,” he said. His deep voice cut a path down the table, and oddly enough, the lit wicks on the tapered candles all flickered.
Mr. Corman cleared his throat. “That is excellent news, my lord.”
The solicitor’s reply drew the viscount’s steely blue eyes in Leo’s direction. He assessed her for one or two seconds, thenaverted his gaze as if bored. Judging by the age lines and mottled spots on his face, and the hollows of his cheeks and eyes, she guessed he was probably seventy-five or eighty years old. However, he’d moved with a younger man’s agility, and he did not wear spectacles. His son, Frederick, greatly resembled him, though he did not possess the viscount’s same grim slash of a mouth.
The footmen arrived with tureens of soup, and the next several minutes were busied with settling into the first course. At the arrival of the food, two shaggy-looking dogs popped up from where they must have been lying next to Nadia’s chair. They were Irish Wolfhounds, Leo suspected, and they stared at Nadia as if hoping she would feed them. Helen shook her head at the dogs’ begging, but other than an exchange of pointed looks between the sisters, nothing was said.
The silence around the table was so fraught that Leo hardly tasted the soup. She crossed glances with Jasper multiple times, wishing they could have taken supper alone somewhere else rather than with the family.
When their bowls were being cleared away, Helen broke the uneasy quiet.
“Miss Spencer, Inspector,” she began, her nervousness betrayed by a quaver in her voice, “I think we are all quite curious as to the letter my mother left for you to read privately. Did she explain what your presence here has all been about?”
The solicitor dabbed the corner of his mouth with his napkin and stammered the beginning of a response. “Mrs. Dalton, I must reiterate that your mother’s request was that?—”
“Yes, thank you, Corman, we are aware of her request,” Mr. Dalton interrupted, the snide remark enough to silence the solicitor. “However, as all of us wish to know exactly why Francine gave two people she has never met—not only that,but the twoprotegesof her late sister’s husband—an obscenely expensive property, I think it only fair they explain why.”
The intensity of his stare bored into Leo’s cheek. “Whether you think it fair or not, Mr. Dalton,” she replied, turning to face him, “the contents of that letter are private. As Mrs. Stroud wished them to be. I imagine, as her family, you would want to respect her final wishes.”
He sneered. “Do you have even the slightest idea how much a property at that address in London is worth? It certainly is not meant to house those of the working class.”
At the barefaced insult, Jasper looked as if he’d have liked to clock the man in the jaw. Leo would have enjoyed seeing it done, too.
“Tony, that is quite enough,” Frederick said, slapping his hand once upon the table. It wasn’t violent, though it did startle the two wolfhounds flanking Nadia’s chair. “I’ll ask you to respect my late sister’s wishes and to treat our guests with the same respect.”
Mr. Dalton gurgled some more laughter, the hysterical sound of it a bit alarming. “Of course, my lord. Whatever you say, my lord.”
“Do shut up, Anthony,” Viscount Cowper said smoothly, paying more attention to the claret in his glass than to anyone else at the table. “Mr. Reid and Miss Spencer, what my grandson-in-law says has merit, even if he is acting like a drunken buffoon.”
At the rebuke, Mr. Dalton shrank back into his seat with a pout.
“Inspector,” Jasper said.
The viscount frowned. “Pardon?”
“It is Inspector Reid, not ‘Mister’,” he replied evenly, even as Viscount Cowper’s mien darkened. “And while Miss Spencer and I understand the frustration over the ambiguity of this bequest,we intend to honor your daughter’s wishes by withholding the contents of the letter.” He paused. “For now.”
Leo stifled a pleased grin at Jasper’s pointed rebuke and admired him for not silencing himself in the face of opposition.
She took a furtive glance toward Helen. The woman seemed just as nervous as before. Did she have an idea as to what all this was about? Perhaps her mother had not hidden her suspicions well enough. Nothing could be said on the matter of Teddy here, of course. Jasper would want to question her alone.
“Inspector,” the viscount echoed, drawling the title with obvious derision. “I must say, I was baffled when I heard Gregory Reid had replaced my grandson with some runty street urchin he’d scraped up while going about his work.”
Leo’s pulse jumped at the purposefully cruel words. She could barely believe he’d dared say them aloud.
Jasper, however, didn’t flinch at the viscount’s direct loathing. Instead, he allowed a small twitch of his lips. “That you believe he would attempt to replace Gregory Junior with me reveals how little you truly knew him.”
“Grandfather,” Nadia began, speaking gently. “Now isn’t the time to dredge up the past. Let us eat.”
At that word—eat—the wolfhounds yipped and let their tongues loll out of their mouths. Helen scoffed in disgust.
“Must you allow them in the dining room? It is unsanitary.”
Nadia stroked the head of one dog. “It isn’t unsanitary, Helen; you just hate my dogs.”
