The lips were pressed together in pique at the moment, as she tapped one boot-clad toe. Her gaze narrowed on a deep purple settee pushed against the far wall, half-hidden in shadow, and she made straight for it. Dropping to her knees, she stuck her head beneath, leaving her arse tipped up in a most indecent fashion.
Frederick made his way over to her, making sure to stick to the rugs scattered about the hardwood floor so he made no sound. He stood behind her, trying not to notice how her hips swayed enticingly as she swept her hand along the baseboards.
“Looking for something?”
She stilled. “Yes?”
“Perhaps I can assist.” Though if she wanted to continue poking about on her own and providing him with the delightful view, he didn’t want to seem churlish by complaining.
“I thank you, but that’s not necessary.” Her words were only slightly muffled from coming from under the settee.
His duty got the better of him. “But I insist.” What could she be looking for so intently? She’d been looking over her shoulder as she’d entered the room, a sure sign she didn’t want others to know what she was up to. With a murder in this club to solve, no aberrant behavior could be overlooked. “A lady should not be on her hands and knees when there is an able-bodied man available to help.”
She sighed, then started making her way out. This process included much wriggling, and the hem of her gown shifted up to her knees.
Frederick drew his brows together. He was certain he’d seen this woman before, but where?
“Well?” She sat with her gloved hand raised to him for assistance.
He pulled her to her feet. More hair had escaped her knot, and a line of dust crossed her pelisse where her bosom must have pressed into the floor. “What is it you’re looking for, Miss….?”
“Lynton.” She made a half-hearted attempt at brushing herself off. “And I lost a pin the last time I was here. Square. Gold. About so big.” She held her thumb and forefinger about an inch apart. Her voice was sure, brisk, but her gaze didn’t meet his eyes.
“Are you certain you lost it in this room?” He didn’t recognize her name, and if she were a member of this club it was unlikely they ran in the same social circles. Had she been a part of a previous investigation?
“Yes.” She gave up on the dust. “I think so. It is of no great import, however.” She looked him up and down. “Who are you? Not one of the club’s workers.”
As the servants were all in livery and he was not, it was an easy deduction. “Mr. Frederick Rollins, an officer of the Bow Street magistrates.”
Her eyelid twitched. “I wish you luck in finding whoever killed that poor woman. We are all most distraught.”
From what he’d seen, distraught wasn’t the word he would have used. There was an excitement among the club’s patrons, an energy not uncommon among the casual acquaintances of a murder victim. Everyone wanted to discuss the tragedy, chew over each horrifying detail until nothing was left, not even bones.
It was an escape from a typically dull life. It also helped to make the survivors feel safe. If they could examine every detail, they could see why it would be impossible for such an event to befall them or their loved ones.
“Since I have you here, I’d like to ask you a few questions,” he said.
“Of course.” Miss Lynton went to a mirror on the wall and began to fix her hair. “But I hardly knew the woman. I’m sure nothing I can tell you would be of interest.”
“Mr. Rollins!” Lady Mary Cavindish stomped into the room, jabbing the floor with her walking stick more in anger than as any sort of support. “I have been looking all over for you.”
He held his arms out. “And you’ve found me.” He wasn’t sure what to make of the woman yet. She’d created this outlandish club and had a reputation for eccentricity, but surely she hadn’t been in earnest about aiding in his investigation. He felt like he had fallen in her disfavor when they’d met, and her declaration had most likely been an attempt to provoke him.
“I would like a space to interview your workers, if I may.” Frederick tapped his hat against his thigh. “And the club’s members who had any relationship to the victim.”
“You can use my office.” Lady Mary nodded at Miss Lynton. “And I see you’ve made a good start. I know you’ll want to interview both of us who found the body, so I will make myself available to you at your convenience.”
Frederick blinked, then slowly turned to the young woman. “You discovered the body?”
Miss Lynton refocused her attentions on her dusty pelisse. “Hmm? Oh, yes. Did I not mention it?”
“You did not.” He tilted his head. “I find that of muchinterest. I’ll start my interviews with you.”
She gave him a smile that was all politeness but no warmth. “Of course.”
Lady Mary examined the woman. “Bernard didn’t take your coat and gloves? You must be quite warm.”
The girl flushed, and he didn’t think it was from the alleged warmth. “I only came in to try to find my pin. I didn’t mean to stay long. I’ll give him my coat now and meet you in Lady Mary’s office.”
