I didn’t want to examine what that might say about my own character.
Chapter Nineteen
Frederick
Frederick had goneinto the wrong line of work. The offices in the House of Lords chamber in Parliament were large and airy, the furniture an expensive mahogany, the carpets finely-woven Turkish-Berber blends. It was a far cry from his desk at Bow Street where he needed to wedge a piece of folded paper under one leg to minimize the wobbling, and the wood floors of the office were fortunate to be swept once a month, much less see a mop.
Of course, he was in the section for the nation’s peers. Perhaps the offices of the Commons would be different.
Frederick was almost surprised when Lord Anglia agreed to see him. He had come without an appointment, but once he entered his private offices, he knew the reason why.
Charles Addison, Earl of Anglia, eyed Frederick like he was an exhibit at Astley’s Amphitheatre, his curiosity dripping from his expression. Frederick was to be an experience for him, one he would most likely chew over with a drink with his friends, the Bow Street Runner who had the temerity to question a nobleman.
“Mister…” Anglia dropped his gaze to Frederick’s card. “Rollins.” He said Frederick’s name as though he were tasting it, determining its quality. His condescending smirk told Frederick he had deemed it wanting. “You have questions to ask me?”
“Indeed.” The earl didn’t offer him a chair, but Frederick took one anyway, sitting across the desk from him. “It is concerning Lady Richford.”
“I had guessed that.” Without dropping his gaze, Anglia pulled a lacquered snuffbox from his waistcoat pocket and put a pinch to his nose. “What answers do you think I can provide?”
“I understand you were not an admirer of the lady.” Frederick didn’t bother trying to ask the question with delicacy. He had a feeling it would be unsuccessful, and that the direct approach would be more appreciated. “You had qualms about her influence over her husband when it came to matters of government.”
“That is hardly a secret. My opinion piece inThe Timesmade that clear.” The earl smoothed a hand down his abdomen, and Frederick’s gaze fell to his cravat. The bunch in the fabric made the letter hard to read, but there was definitely something embroidered into the cloth. It was not plain like the murder weapon.
“It was also clear just how vexing you found Lord Richford’s opposition to some of the bills you want passed. I understand that two in particular have gone through committee now that Richford has been absent from his duties for the past week and will go to the full chamber for vote soon.”
The amused curiosity left Anglia’s face. He wasn’t many years older than Frederick, his body hale. He would easily have the strength to strangle a woman.
Frederick forced his hands to remain at his sides, not rub at the remembered ache of his throat. If Miss Lynton could figure out how to produce an effective strangulation, then any man, even those not in the prime of their lives, could so do so as well, he supposed.
“Richford will be returning soon.” Anglia drummed his fingers on his desk. “A week’s respite is hardly enough reasonto commit murder. Besides, if I had intended to kill the woman, I would hardly have published my complaints about her in the paper to expose me for a suspect.”
That was true, if the murder had been premeditated. Frederick wasn’t so certain of that. It took anger to choke the life from someone, and that spoke less to a deliberative action and more to an impetuous crime. But why would Anglia meet with the lady in The Minerva Club in the first place? And would Lady Richford agree to see a man who had printed such awful things about her? Frederick could sooner imagine the viscountess attacking the earl than the other way round.
“The two bills that passed committee, they were a prison reform bill and one concerning the funding of a national hospital, is that correct?” Frederick poised his bit of lead over his notebook.
Anglia nodded.
“We’ve had several prison reform bills pass in the last decade,” Frederick said. “Much money is spent but no real reform ever seems to occur.”
Anglia covered his mouth to hide a yawn. A fake yawn if Frederick was any judge. “Was there a question there?”
“I suppose I was wondering why you were so angered by Lady Richford’s interference, if she did indeed interfere. There will always be an opposition party, always an adversary to clog the gears. What made her actions so special as to deserve your attention?”
Anglia shrugged, his jacket pulling tightly across his shoulders. “There was nothing special about her. As you say, there will always be obstacles to progress. But I’ve found if one makes an example of one such hindrance, it deters others who might be of the same mind. She was merely my latest example.”
“Of course.” Frederick tilted his head to the side. “It is the same in my line of work. The hangman’s noose not onlypunishes the guilty, but scares many others into lawful behavior. At least in theory.”
If the mention of a noose bothered Anglia, he didn’t show it. “Are we done yet? You are becoming tiresome.”
“Just about.” Frederick looked down at his notes, as though reading a report. “You own shares in the English Engineering Corporation, do you not? A company that could obtain the contracts to build a new prison or new hospital if those bills pass?”
It was useful being an officer for Sir John Stauncey. As the younger son of a baron, the magistrate was kept abreast of society gossip, including the business ventures of its peers. It had long been whispered that Lord Anglia used his position in the House of Lords to benefit his personal holdings.
Unfortunately, the earl was not alone in his actions. If there was any patriotism among the men in government, it was difficult to find.
Anglia sighed, long and deep, as though he was being tried in a most cruel manner. “I have many business interests. English Engineering is not as profitable as it once was. Now, I must return to work. You may go.” And he pulled a ledger in front of him and gave it his full attention, acting as though Frederick never existed.
Frederick put away his notebook and lead and stood. “Thank you for your time.” He gave the barest of nods before exiting. Lord Anglia as murderer seemed farfetched. After all, he did have many business interests. A corporation he was invested in not obtaining one or two contracts would hardly bankrupt the man. But if Lady Richford interfered with his plans one too many times….
