“I understand.” She took a seat and motioned for him to do so as well. “May I offer you some tea?” A slight pause. “Or brandy?”
Wrexford wondered what she had heard about him. Clearly nothing good about his personal peccadillos.
“Thank you, but I’ve no need of refreshments.” He, too, allowed a moment of silence. “But please don’t let that stop you from ordering some sustenance.”
The widow laughed, its musical lightness at odds with her somber appearance. “Dear me, I’ve had so much tea pressed on me lately that I swear, it could float a twenty gun frigate. So I, too, shall forgo the usual social rituals, no matter that tea is considered a panacea for all ailments.”
Her sense of humor surprised him. Or perhapsintriguedwas a better word. He sat up a little straighter.
“Forgive me if that sounds awfully blunt. But I sense that both of us prefer plain speaking,” went on Isobel, as if reading his mind.
“Plain speaking is a very polite way of referring to my interaction with people,” replied Wrexford. “I’m considered outspoken to the point of rudeness, and am said to have a vile temper.”
She arched a brow. “And is it true?”
“For the most part,” he replied. “I don’t suffer fools gladly.”
“Ah.” Rather than appear intimidated, Isobel seemed amused. “I shall have to take care not to appear a feather-brained goose.” Looking down at her lap, she smoothed at the folds of heavybombazine fabric, and in an instant all trace of humor was wiped from her face.
“How can I help?” she said softly.
He took out her list and a pencil from his coat pocket. “I’d like to learn a little more about the people on your list . . .”
Wrexford asked a few questions about six of them, jotting some notes in the margin before circling back to the two names written at the top of the page.
“And now to Octavia Merton.” He looked up. “During our first meeting, you suggested that she and your husband’s laboratory assistant would know the most about who might wish Mr. Ashton ill.”
“Yes,” she replied. “They worked very closely with Elihu, so it seems a reasonable assumption.”
“So it does.” Wrexford hesitated. “You mentioned plain speaking just now, and so I feel beholden to ask you something before we consider any other questions. Do you consider either of them suspects?”
Her expression didn’t change, but a certain tension seemed to take hold of her, drawing the flesh taut over the delicate planes of her face. Her cheekbones looked sharp as razors. “If I gave you the impression that I think Octavia or Benedict to be guilty of any nefarious doings, then I am sorry,” she replied in a carefully controlled voice. “I did not mean to do so.”
“Your sense of noblesse does you credit,” he murmured. “But anything less than complete candor will make the very difficult task of finding your husband’s killer impossible.”
She gave a tiny nod. “I understand, Lord Wrexford.”
“Excellent.” He watched her for a moment longer, wondering if he had been too harsh. However she met his gaze with a calm composure.
A woman who doesn’t rattle easily.Which was all for the good, reflected Wrexford, seeing as he wasn’t very good at tempering his tongue.
“Then let’s start with Miss Merton. How did she come to be part of your husband’s household?”
“Her parents died in a carriage accident when she was fourteen, leaving her alone in the world. As her father was Elihu’s cousin, he offered her a place in his home,” answered the widow. “That was nine years ago.”
“Would you describe their relationship as cordial?”
“My husband was exceedingly fond of Octavia.” She drew in a barely perceptible breath. “And she appeared to feel the same way about him.”
“Appeared to?” repeated Wrexford. “You doubt the sincerity of her sentiment?”
Isobel considered the question for a long moment before answering. “I find it hard to discern Octavia’s true sentiments about most things. She behaves with perfect propriety, but my sense is, she keeps her inner thoughts very . . . well guarded.”
Wrexford considered the answer. But before he could frame another question, she continued, “In fairness, I imagine it wasn’t easy for her when Elihu married me. She had run the household and served as his secretary for so long that it’s only natural she might feel resentment at the change.”
Change was a challenge for most people, reflected Wrexford.
“How would you describe your own relationship with Miss Merton?” he asked.
