Helen swallowed, her throat rolling. “I don’t think—”
“Please. Can we sit down and have a drink? It is urgent that I speak with you.” Her stomach was so tense Cassie didn’t know if she’d be able to swallow anything, even a drink, but it seemed the best way to put the woman at ease.
“I…I suppose.” Helen followed Cassie into the next room and to one of the settees situated about the room to form little conversational nooks. A footman appeared at their side when they sat and took their drink orders.
Helen smoothed her palms down her thighs. “I am sorry for the loss of your sister. She was so young. My daughter is her age now.” She blinked, her eyes glassy.
Unless this woman was a superb actress, she was obviously no killer. Her sorrow at Lydia’s death was too real. Cassie hadn’t truly thought a woman could have choked her sister, but the deed being done at the dowager countess’s direction had been a possibility in Cassie’s mind. But even if she wasn’t the perpetrator, that didn’t mean the woman didn’t know something that might help.
“Thank you.” Cassie took the cup of tea the footman handed her.
Helen took something much stronger.
“I know my sister was at a ball at your house that night,” Cassie began.
“Yes, my annual spring ball.” Helen ran her thumb along the rim of her glass. “We didn’t hold it last year because our house was in mourning, but it is back this year. In three weeks’ time actually.”
“You continued holding the ball even after my sister’s death?” A hint of outrage snuck into her voice.
Helen dipped her head. “Yes, my husband insisted. After the accident—”
“Let’s not play games,” Cassie interrupted. “Lydia’s death was no accident. She was murdered.”
All color drained from Helen’s face. “How did you… my husband….”
“Your husband, my father, everyone, they were all quite successful at hiding the truth. An accident is ever so much more respectable.” Her pulse pounded beneath her skin. Reputation had been more important than justice. Society’s approval considered more essential than holding the killer responsible.
The dowager countess lifted her chin. “What good can come from exposing the tawdry details? It won’t bring your sister back.”
“But it might bring justice to her killer.” Cassie turned to face the woman more fully. “And it might prevent such a tragedy from befalling another family. You say you have a daughter my sister’s age. Someone at your ball, someone of your acquaintance is a killer. Do you want your daughter exposed to such a person?”
“My husband said it must have been someone who snuck onto our property,” Helen whispered. “That was the only reason I allowed the balls to continue. He was so eager to put such unpleasantness behind us.”
“Perhaps.” If that was the case, Cassie would never find who had killed Lydia. “But my sister would not have gone into your gardens alone. It is much more likely she went with someone already at the party, and that person killed her.”
Helen closed her eyes. “I think I always knew it. I let my husband convince me otherwise because….”
Because it was so much nicer believing a stranger did such a thing. Cassie knew all about wishful thinking. It was a luxury she could no longer afford.
“Did you see Lydia fighting with anyone that night?” A crush of women entered the room, chattering noisily with a few whoops of laughter. Cassie leaned closer to the dowager countess.
“No, but there were nearly one hundred people in our house.” Helen shook her head. “I could barely see more than ten feet in front of me.”
“Did you see anyone going into the gardens?”
Helen chewed on her bottom lip. “It was a cold day. I didn’t see anyone leave the house, although I suppose some people must have.”
The backs of Cassie’s eyes burned. If only it had been a little colder, perhaps Lydia would not have chanced an assignation out of doors. “And what of your argument with my sister? What was it concerning?”
“I…I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Helen stammered.
“You were seen arguing with her.” Cassie inhaled sharply. “It is recorded in the Bow Street investigator’s notes.”
“It was nothing.” Helen stared down at her clenched hands. “It all seems so silly now. Such a trifling. I was jealous.” She gave a brittle laugh. “My husband was in conversation with her, laughing at something she’d said, and she was looking so pretty. Too pretty, and too young. The earl and I had crossed words earlier in the evening, you see, and him turning a kind eye on any woman was enough to put me in a miff. And that fact that it was your sister….”
“Why my sister?”
One edge of Helen’s mouth lifted. “Your sister had shown everyone else down that night. She was beautiful, and she had dampened her gown, drawing every man’s eye. That was what I spoke to her about. And yes, I spoke sharply. That night she was a determined flirt, almost desperately seeking the approval of the men in attendance. But, she was young.” She raised her hands, palms up. “I should have been more understanding. It still grieves me that my set down was among the last of the conversations that poor girl had.”
