Unfortunately, Eleanorhadthought about it. She knew she needed to watch over her mother, but there had been nights when all she’d thought about had been escape. There were several chaises and sofas that made a decent bed for an uninterrupted night’s sleep. Unconsciously, she rubbed her forearm, letting the dull ache she found there remind her of her purpose.
It was only natural her mother would be unsettled, first with thoughts of revenge and then with the worry of being a suspect in a murder. Once the real killer was found, she would once again become the kind, gentle woman who had raised Eleanor.
Mr. Rollins’s gaze was heavy on her once more. His eyes seemed to search for something she couldn’t let anyone find. Eleanor cleared her throat. “It would be easier for Lady Richfordto remain unnoticed by staying in the club rather than trying to gain entry after closing. She could have let her killer in the door there after Timothy made his rounds.” She nodded to the door beside the stage that led into a back alley.
“If the killer entered that way, how did he leave?” Mr. Rollins widened his stance. “He couldn’t have locked it after himself. Not without a key.”
“Which only I and my staff carry,” Lady Mary said.
Eleanor tugged at the cuff of her sleeve and cast a wary glance toward the open door that led back into the club proper. “Are we sure that one of the servants didn’t have a reason to kill Lady Richford? As the only men in the club, it would have been easiest for one of them to be the murderer.”
“The only men weknowwere in the club. And you’re assuming the killer wasn’t a woman.” Lady Mary tapped the floor with her walking stick for emphasis.
That didn’t answer Eleanor’s question. “But….”
Lady Mary sighed. “I have my men investigated very thoroughly before I hire them. They weren’t involved.”
“And I’ve checked their finances since the murder,” Mr. Rollins added. “If one of them was paid to commit the murder, I’ve found no evidence of it. And, of course, young Bobby does have an alibi.” He ignored Eleanor’s scowl. “But you’ve brought up the possibility of a woman committing the crime again. I’m still not sure a woman would have the strength to strangle another.”
“Then let’s put it to the test.” Lady Mary briskly strode to the low stage and plopped her bottom down upon it. Her light blue eyes were lit with some amusement as she looked between Eleanor and the Runner. “Well, go ahead, Miss Lynton. Try to strangle him.”
An empty feeling opened in the pit of Eleanor’s stomach. “What?”
“Take Mr. Rollins’s cravat and see if you can choke the air from him,” Lady Mary explained patiently. She turned to Mr. Rollins. “I assume you have no objections to this little experiment. If she starts to hurt you, just raise your hand as a signal for her to stop.”
Mr. Rollins dipped his chin. “She will not hurt me.”
“Then there can be no objection.” Lady Mary stretched her legs out in front of her. “I have no cravat handy. We’ll have to use yours.”
Mr. Rollins sighed but brought his hands to his throat and began untying the knot. “Let’s list our suspects. Edgar Bannister. There was no love lost between him and his mother.”
Eleanor’s gaze was transfixed on the quick movements of Mr. Rollins’s hands. The whisper of linen as one tail of his cravat dragged against the other, exposing the tanned skin of his throat. His shirt gaped, a thatch of dark hair appearing in the vee it made. She had never seen a man perform an action of undress, not even her father.
“What was that?” Lady Mary frowned. “What did you say, Miss Lynton?”
Whatever noise Eleanor had made hadn’t been for public consumption. She dragged her gaze away from Mr. Rollins’s dishabille. “Only that Bannister could have used his stage costume to gain access here, and escaped out of the club in the tumult after we discovered the body.”
“Anyone could have escaped out of the club in the same manner.” Lady Mary laced her hands together on top of her walking stick and rested her chin on top of her hands. “I still have a hard time believing a son could kill his mother.”
Mr. Rollins held out his cravat. “He says he was with friends, at Carpenter’s after the performance, but his friends lost track of him on a few occasions, notably around midnight. He left for some minutes with an unknown woman. He could haveabandoned the woman to run here. The timing would have been tight, but not impossible. I have associates questioning jarveys in the area to see if he hailed a ride that night.” When Eleanor hadn’t moved, he shook his neckcloth, like a matador waving a flag at a bull.
And like the stupid bull, Eleanor moved forward until she stood before the man. Without looking at him, she took his cravat, ignoring the warmth it still held from his skin. “Turn, please.”
Mr. Rollins let out a soft grunt, but turned as ordered.
“I spoke with Mrs. Massey.” Lady Mary cocked her head. “You’ll have to squat down some. Try to approximate Lady Richford’s height.” She nodded when Mr. Rollins sank lower. “She says her argument with the viscountess was because Lady Richford had become too friendly with Mr. Massey.”
“An affair?” Mr. Rollins dropped to his knees. “I know I am now lower than Lady Richford would be, but maintaining a squat while Miss Lynton tries to figure out how to put a cravat about my neck is untenable.”
All hesitation on Eleanor’s part evaporated. She grabbed the ends of the cravat in each hand and whipped the cloth over his head and down to his neck. She yanked back, but beside from a slight sway to his body, Mr. Rollins appeared unmoved.
“She says not.” Lady Mary leaned to the side. “Can you turn so I can see what Miss Lynton is doing?”
They shuffled their bodies until they faced the windows, giving Lady Mary an excellent view.
“A little flirtation doesn’t seem provocation enough to violence,” Mr. Rollins said.
“No, but I don’t know that I believe her reason for her fight with the viscountess, either.” Lady Mary frowned. “Can’t you pull any harder, Miss Lynton?”
