Chapter Thirteen
It’s so hotin here.Elizabeth fanned herself.She’d moved next to an open French door that led to the balcony outside, but the night air felt just as warm as the air in the ballroom.At least the outside air was fresh in comparison to the heavily perfumed air inside.After taking in one more breath of fresh air, she forced herself to move along the edges of the room, making a slow circle while she noted who danced with who.A loud shout of laughter drew her gaze across the room.Lord Cheltenham roared as he watched Lord Beltram mop up spilled wine from Lady Beltram’s heaving bosom.The lady was red-faced and smacking her husband’s shoulder as he drunkenly apologized.
Elizabeth’s lips twitched.Funny as it was, the incident was hardly newsworthy.Nights like this could be interesting or plain boring.Lady Cheltenham had invited her to make sure her party was described in detail in the paper.But so far, all Elizabeth had were a few notes about the tropical theme that the hostess had obviously spent a great deal of money to achieve.She continued her stroll around the edges of the room, pausing again to stare blankly at the crowd of dancing guests.
“Dead boring tonight, isn’t it?”a male voice commented from next to her.
Elizabeth glanced over and frowned.Harry Kimmel from theMorning Poststood a couple of feet away.His stupid, lopsided grin accompanied a roll of his eyes.She made a noncommittal noise and turned her gaze back to the crowd.
“Come now, Miss Harper, surely you’re not still mad about last month?”He chuckled.
“I certainly am.Sending false tips to throw my man off the scent was low, even for you, Kimmel.”
“It’s hardly my fault if your puppy is so gullible.”
Elizabeth winced.Nigel was quite green.Which is why she was here tonight instead of him.He was a brilliant writer, sharp and witty, but he needed to work on his investigative skills.He didn’t have a cynical bone in his body, and he was far too trusting.But he was only twenty; there was time yet for him to grow and learn.
Her silence didn’t seem to bother Kimmel, who kept talking.“I hate summertime.No one of interest is in town.Just a bunch of social climbing nobodies who don’t have their own estates to escape to.”
“Careful, Harry.Your snobbery is showing.”She glanced over at him.“There are some peers of note here.Plenty don’t care to be away from the entertainments of town.”
He grunted.“You always were kinder than most toward the toffs, being from the same lofty breeding ground and all.”
“That’s simply not true.I have as much cynicism as the next person.I simply have more manners than you.Good evening, Mr.Kimmel.”Elizabeth walked away from the other reporter.
It was no secret who her grandmother was, and weasels like Kimmel would always throw it in her face.No matter.He was just a peon in the machine that was theMorning Post.Harry was just jealous that thePiccadilly Presswas hers and she could write about anything she saw fit to print.She stepped out of the ballroom to the less crowded portrait gallery.Staring up at a painting of a sixteenth-century ancestor of Lord Cheltenham, Elizabeth listened to nearby conversation.To her left, two matrons, their fans fluttering madly, spoke about the one woman’s daughter’s marital prospects.On her right, a group of young men strolled by, laughing at a crude jest one made that had Elizabeth wrinkling her nose in distaste.
She moved away, down the room.It was so damn hot, and her fan was doing little good.Then, like a miracle from above, a tendril of cool air drifted over the back of her neck.She turned to find a door stood ajar.She walked over and peered out.It led out to the garden.Another breeze raced across her overheated skin, tempting her to step outside.Slipping through the door, she drew in a deep breath of humid air.Still, it was better than the air inside the house.She hadn’t made it more than five feet from the door when male voices stopped her in her tracks.Her instincts had her stepping back into the shadows next to the house.The moon peeked out from behind clouds, throwing its light across the grass beyond the veranda.
“It’s been in the papers.Four women so far,” one man said.
“And you actually think it’s him?”
“I fear it is him.The paper said the women were strangled.Same thing that happened to his mother.”
“Peter knew that boy wasn’t right in the head.But he kept him in line.We need to watch out for him, now that his father can’t.”
“But if he is the one killing those girls, we need to stop him, not cover for him.”
“Stop him how?Having him committed?Can you imagine the scandal?We owe it to Peter to protect the family name.His son is the last of the line.Besides, who cares about a few dead prostitutes?”
Elizabeth raised her hand to smother her gasp.
They weren’t prostitutes, you bastard.
She squinted, but could only see the backs of two evening jackets.One man was taller than the other, but they stood in shadow, and she couldn’t decipher any details about the two men.The shorter of the two men tipped his head back and drained the contents of his glass.
“Listen, I will talk to him.Scare some sense into him.He just needs a firm hand.”The taller man clapped the other on his shoulder.
“That would be good.He will listen to you.Tonight, I saw the editor from thePiccadilly Pressinside.She has run several articles about the deaths.My wife was telling me about it over breakfast this morning.Harriet loves that scandal rag.What if she is digging around?Why would Lady Cheltenham invite those newspaper people to her party?”
“They are here to report on the decorations and who is dancing with who.Don’t worry so much, George.I will take care of things.Come, let’s get another brandy before your wife comes looking for you.”
Elizabeth glanced left and right for a route of escape but, thankfully, the two men walked away from where she stood and climbed the stone steps that led up to the veranda.She let out a sigh of relief.Tipping her head back, she stared at the moon peeking from behind clouds.The killer was definitely an aristocrat.One of them.
She moved out to walk through the garden beds.The roses perfumed the air, and more clouds blew across the sky, gathering to hide the stars.The fact that the killer was a peer of some sort complicated how to catch him.Especially if he had others that were willing to protect him.No magistrate was going to take action against a peer, solely based on her conjuncture.
“Should you be out wandering dark gardens at night, Miss Harper?”the rasp of a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
