And her mother. She could not forget her mother.
“Please, sit down.” Rhoda gestured toward the sitting area. Heat rushed to her face when she glanced at the loveseat, where Justin had been lying atop her… inside of her.
She noticed that everybody avoided that particular piece of furniture, leaving it for her and Justin to take.
Her fiancé.
Mr. Bradley removed a small notepad from his coat and then stared at her with a frown. “You were a guest at the Crabtrees’ ball last night?”
She glanced sideways at Justin, who nodded in encouragement.
Just tell them the truth, he’d told her.
“Yes.” She licked her lips, which had suddenly gone dry. That wasn’t so hard.
“Can you please tell me where you were at approximately half-past midnight? The set after the supper dance?”
Ah, not quite so simple. “I was sitting with the wallflowers.”
“But not for long, isn’t that right, Miss Mossant?”
“No, not for long,” she agreed. In a fit of exasperation, she was tempted to blurt the story out. He seemed to want to do this his way, however, and she didn’t wish to draw his ill will any more than she already had.
“You went outside, for a walk, alone? Is that not correct?”
“I received a missive,” she explained, unwilling to allow that detail to pass. Of course, under normal circumstances she wouldn’t have gone out walking alone in the dark at such a late hour. Especially in light of everything that had already happened this Season.
His eyebrows rose. Ah, so she was telling him something he didn’t already know. “A footman, at least I believed him to be a footman, told me that Sophia, er, that Her Grace, the Duchess of Prescott,” she flicked a look toward Sophia, “needed to meet with me immediately. That it was urgent.”
“Oh, no!” Sophia seemed horrified that someone had used her in their ruse. Prescott reached over and covered his wife’s hand.
“And did you send any such missive?” The magistrate turned on Sophia now.
“Of course not! I’m in mourning! I could not attend a ball. Even if I could, I’d never put Rhoda into a situation like that.” She frowned at the magistrate’s impertinent question.
“Please tell me what you did next, Miss Mossant.” He turned his questioning back to Rhoda.
Next? “I walked toward the meeting place. The fountain. Where the servant told me the duchess would be waiting.”
The studious man wrote something in his notebook. “Did you encounter anyone on your way there?”
What on earth would that have to do with it? “No.” And then she reached into her memory. Had she? It was difficult to recall what she’d seen while rushing to meet Sophia. Mostly she’d just been concerned about getting to her friend.
“No,” she repeated.
“Are you certain?”
“No. I mean, yes. I’m certain that I didn’t encounter anyone… I think.” Likely, she would have asked them to come along with her. She’d had a feeling something was off.
She should have listened to it.
Mr. Bradley lowered his gaze and glowered at her. “And when you reached the fountain, was anyone there?”
Rhoda shook her head. “I called out for Sophia. Twice, I think. And then Flave—Lord Kensington appeared.”
“So, you were on familiar terms with the late earl? You addressed him by his Christian name? Had the two of you been intimate before?”
“I was not on familiar terms with Flavion. I mean. Well. He married Cecily last year, Mrs. Nottingham, but not really. He’d only done it for her money and once she found out, she didn’t want to be married to him. We all hated him, actually, so we talked about him as though… I haveneverbeen on intimate terms with Lord Kensington!” How dare he insinuate such a thing!
