“Let’s go ask the cook what deliveries came around yesterday afternoon,” Vi suggested.
“Good thinking,” Em said.
Vi thought so—seeing as she was hoping to grow two plants with one seed.
Her hopes came to fruition when the kindly cook not only had information to give, but also provided her with a dish of bread and butter pudding studded with currants. Sitting on a stool at the work table, Vi dug into the treat with gusto as the cook reviewed yesterday’s schedule.
“Now let me see,” she said, wiping her hands on her apron, “most o’ the deliveries came before noon. But the butcher was a bit late, maybe an hour or two after that—had a broken axle on the way, he said. And the greengrocer arrived soon after that, with some fine asparagus and leeks.”
“Could you give me their addresses, please?” After recording the information, Em said, “Thank you, Cook. This will aid my brother in the search for the missing woman.”
Hopping off the stool, Vi added, “And thank you for the most delicious bread pudding I’ve ever had.”
The cook beamed.
~~~
After supper, Richard went to the music room in search of Violet. He spotted her right away, a vibrant bloom in lavender, sitting with Wick and his cronies. Guests as well as professionals were on the program this eve, and at present, Violet’s sister, the Marchioness of Tremont, was spellbinding the audience with her rendition of a sonata by Master Beethoven.
Despite her delicate looks, the marchioness had full command of the pianoforte. She wrung power, passion, and tenderness from the keys. Standing at the side of the room, Tremont looked on with unmistakable pride.
When the performance came to an end, the audience erupted into applause. While the marchioness took her well-deserved bow, Richard headed toward Violet.
Making a leg, he indicated the empty seat next to her. “Is this seat taken?”
“Now it is. I saved it for you.”
The warmth in her whiskey eyes gave rise to a sweet ache in his chest. It was strange that a thing as small as that gesture—her reserving a place for him—could affect him thus, but it did. He’d never had someone who looked out for him before. Someone to share madcap adventures with and passion beyond anything he’d imagined possible. A true partner.
“Good evening, Carlisle,” his brother said from Violet’s other side.
Wick appeared his usual dapper self, yet Richard saw the lines of tension around the other’s eyes. He wished he could ease Wick’s burdens. “How are you?”
“As well as I can be, given the situation,” Wick said quietly.
“Don’t worry,” Violet whispered. “My brother has everything in hand, and Carlisle and I are helping too.”
She gave Wick’s arm a squeeze. He smiled back at her.
Richard knew her gesture was meant to comfort his sibling, but he found he didn’t like it or the warmth of the exchange between the two. Looking at the young, fashionable pair, he felt, for an instant, like an outsider again.
Don’t be a jealous fool,he chided himself.She’s your fiancée. She’s going to marry you.
“Whatareyou three whispering about?” The drawl came from Parnell, who was sitting behind them with Goggs and some other rakehells. Parnell’s aristocratic features were fixed in a mask of ennui. “If it’s gossip, do share—the juicier the better to relieve this curst dull evening.”
“The juicier the better,” Goggs said, chortling. “Good one, Parnell.”
“Does the gossip have to do with Madame Monique?” Parnell said.
“Why do you ask?” Richard twisted around to face the other fully.
Parnell’s thin brows lifted. “Because rumors are flying. Everyone knows Monique’s death wasn’t an accident. According to Miss Primrose, her papa is closing in on the murderer as we speak—with your and our own dear Violet’s assistance. So what do you have to say to that?”
“That I’ll have to have words with Rosie,” Violet muttered.
“Come, Vi—Miss Kent,” Parnell corrected smoothly after a warning look from Richard. “We’re your cronies, and you can trust us. So do tell:wasit a lover who killed her?”
“It’s always the lover in novels,” Goggs said with emphasis.
