When his viscountess responded by elbowing him in the side, his rugged face creased in a grin.
“Wasn’t Andrew Corbett the one who accused Revelstoke of that ghastly business last year?” Emma asked. She’d aided Papa in the investigation that had cleared Polly’s husband of any wrongdoing. “Why has he gone to such lengths to protect Rosie?”
Before Rosie could muster up an explanation, Mama said, “As it happens, Corbett is an old friend.”
Em’s brows knitted together. “Why haven’t you mentioned that before, Marianne?”
“Corbett is part of a past I’d wanted to forget. He assisted me during those dark times when I was searching for Rosie.” Reaching up, Mama squeezed the hand that Papa had placed on her shoulder. “Corbett knew Rosie when she was a child, and he was a friend to her then.” Mama’s eyes met Rosie’s, and the maternal understanding in those emerald depths clogged her throat. “He still is.”
“Any friend of Rosie’s is a friend of the Kents,” Em declared. “Given his integral involvement in the case, why didn’t we invite him today?”
Seated next to her, Strathaven, a darkly elegant man, murmured, “Discretion is in order, pet.”
Em canted her head at her husband, her expression puzzled.
That was the charming thing about Em—about all of the Kents, Rosie thought. Growing up in an unconventional, middling class household, none of them gave a farthing about things like status or social acceptance. How she wished she could be more like them.
“Mama is right. Mr. Corbett has been a good friend to me,” she said quietly, “and a true gentleman, despite his profession. I owe him more than I can ever repay.”
“How lovely that you’ve found a champion.” Emma beamed. “Speaking of which—what can we do to help, Ambrose?”
Going to the hearth, Papa faced them all, his eyes somber. “Thanks to Polly and Revelstoke’s friends, the mudlarks, we’ve had several sightings of a man who could be the shooter within St. Giles. He’s evaded capture thus far, but we’ll have him soon.” Papa’s jaw tightened. “Which is a good thing because we’ve made little progress with Alastair James and Peter Theale.”
“They’ve denied involvement?” Em inquired.
“Vehemently. James was blasé about it, but his sort appears blasé about everything. Even last year, when he nearly killed a man in a drunken duel—a little known fact that Lugo dug up. So we now know James has a history of committing violence.” Papa’s fingers drummed on the mantel. “Theale, on the other hand, was all nerves. His hands were shaking like he’d been struck by palsy.”
“Do you think this Theale fellow is the guilty one?” Harry said.
“I don’t know that he’d have the nerve to hire a cutthroat,” Papa said, “but he, of all the suspects, is the one who stands to gain the most. And not just in terms of money. I delved further into the financial information Corbett provided. It appears that Theale recently received a large loan from Mr. Albert Brace, a tea merchant.”
“Tea merchants have joined the usury business now?” Harry’s brows rose.
“It’s not money that Brace is after but the social connection,” Papa replied. “He has a daughter who he’s apparently been trying to marry off for years. Her main attraction, according to sources, is her dowry. Apparently, Theale has been dragging his heels for months, and Brace’s loan is part of ongoing negotiations.”
“So we have one man with a history of violence and another desperate enough for money to consider an unwanted match,” Emma mused. “What do we know about the female suspects?”
Mama spoke up. “On that subject, I’ve made a few inquiries of my own. According to the drawing room talk, Antonia James’ husband has recently lost a fortune to bad investments, and they are in dire financial straits. Lady Charlotte Daltry, the dowager countess, has a modest stipend exceeded, at times, by her expenses. Her wards, Sybil and Eloisa Fossey, are both penniless. Thus, for any of the four, two thousand pounds per annum might be sufficient incentive for murder.”
Em hopped to her feet. “Since female suspects are my specialty, I’ll go interview them straightaway.”
“It is past calling hours, pet.” His Grace’s large hand circled his wife’s slender wrist. “Send a note requesting a visit tomorrow. And frame it as your desire to meet Rosie’s new family rather than your desire to hunt down a murderer.”
“I suppose you’ve got a point.” Em plopped back onto the cushions. “Tomorrow, then.”
“I’ll come,” Thea said.
“Me, too,” Vi and Polly chimed in.
“I’d like to meet with the ladies as well,” Rosie said quickly.
Not only did she want to aid in the capture of the villain, she needed to start her campaign for social acceptance. She needed to get into the good graces of Mrs. James and the dowager—assuming they weren’t the ones who wanted her dead, of course.
“Rosie should stay at home where it’s safe,” Papa said, frowning.
“Actually, I think having Rosie there would be useful.” Em tapped her chin. “We’ll be able to monitor the suspects for any tell-tale signs of guilt in her presence. And safety won’t be a problem—Strathaven will accompany us.”
“As will I.” The words boomed through the room: they’d been uttered simultaneously by the other husbands.
