Alaric took a step forward, intending to look around, and something crackled beneath his boot. Bending, he found wire spectacles, the lenses cracked—and the glint of something else in the shadows. Reaching beneath the table, he retrieved the small object nestled against Webb’s boot.
“What have you found?” Kent asked.
Alaric showed him the cuff link. Made of onyx and gold, its workmanship fine, the expensive piece was clearly out of place in the dingy environs.
Swiftly, Kent checked the corpse’s wrists; both brass links were intact. The three men commenced searching through Webb’s meager belongings, and to no one’s surprise, the twin to the onyx cuff link did not emerge.
Icy premonition gripped Alaric’s gut. “The cuff link didn’t belong to Webb. Someone else was here.”
Kent’s gaze matched the brightness of his lantern. “So it would seem.”
“Over here,” Will called.
They went to join him by the hearth where he’d unearthed the charred remains of a ledger.
“Looks like an appointment book,” Will said.
When he opened it, ashes drifted to the ground.
“My guess? The true murderer destroyed this to hide his identity,” Kent said. “Do you know of any men Webb might have had dealings with, your grace? A wealthy man. One with a penchant for fine accoutrements such as the cuff link?”
Alaric shook his head. “As far as I knew, Webb had worked solely for United Mining for years. Until I dismissed him, that is.”
“We’ll come back in the morning,” Kent said decisively, “and canvas the neighborhood. Perhaps someone saw Webb with our mystery man.”
“I appreciate your diligence,” Alaric said.
“We Kents do not concede until the matter is resolved.” An unexpected hint of a smile relieved the somberness of the other man’s expression. “I believe you know something about that, your grace.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Astonaffairs went, this ball was definitely better than Emma’s first experience.
Emma had no doubt that Alaric had pulled strings to make her feel comfortable at this lavish affair. The hosts, Lord and Lady Blackwood, personally greeted her and Marianne as if they were longtime friends.
Lady Blackwood, whose raven-haired beauty suited her name, kissed the air near Emma’s cheeks. “What a divine necklace,” she said warmly. “From Rundell and Bridge’s, is it not?”
“Er, yes. I believe so,” Emma mumbled.
“It was a gift,” Marianne said smoothly.
“Ah.” Lady Blackwood’s gaze turned speculative.
“Now don’t go giving my wife any ideas,” Lord Blackwood said wryly. With short hair of polished bronze, he possessed a soldier’s bearing and kind eyes. “Lady Blackwood is prone to extravagance as it is.”
“For that comment, I shall expect a bracelet to match the emerald earrings I purchased,” his wife said saucily.
“I am ruined.” Blackwood regarded his lady with clear affection.
“As if a bracelet could ruin you, my dear.” Lady Blackwood turned to Emma. “Well, let’s not keep you in the corner, Miss Kent. Shall I introduce you to some of the other guests?”
“Yes, please,” Emma said, more than ready to embark on her mission.
For the next hour, under Lady Blackwood’s wing, Emma circulated amongst the glittering throng. She made an effort to converse; after all, her goal was to determine if any of these guests could be guilty of murder, and to do that, she needed to establish rapport. To her surprise, some of the lords and ladies were not as haughty as she had previously assumed.
Some ladies even discussed such mundane topics as household remedies and unruly children, and Emma found herself quite naturally contributing to the conversation. At the request of a dowager, she provided her recipe for joint salve; at that of a countess with a fussy, two-month-old babe, she shared the tonic she’d used to calm Polly’s colic.
It was quite strange to find herself fitting in.
