“Lady Sophia was strangled in the East End and found, by her brother, holding ontoyourhandkerchief.” It sounded even worse when said aloud, no matter how many times she’d pondered it in her head.
“That’s not possible,” he insisted.
“I saw it myself.”
His mouth dropped. “What on earth do you mean?”
Adelia realized what he was imagining. “No, I don’t mean I sawhermyself. Lord Burnley showed me the handkerchief. It was undeniably yours.”
Thomas frowned and began to sop up the brandy with the napkin the footman had left. “I don’t understand how that could be.”
“You said you hadn’t danced with Lady Sophia but had noticed her enough to think you might have an interest. When was that?”
“At Lord Waverly’s ball, right at the Season’s beginning. You remember, the godawful warm lemonade and the off-key musicians?”
She nodded. That had been a particularly long evening.
“I was waiting for some promised cold champagne to be served when Lady Sophia came by with her brother and another woman. They were chatting about nothing as we all do at those infernal things. Then, she said something in French to the other woman, and Burnley reminded them he didn’t speak a word. Lady Sophia laughed and said that was the point. The other lady laughed, too. Lady Priscilla What-Not, I can’t think of her last name, but Burnley has escorted her to a few dances.”
Adelia nodded, recalling seeing them together.
“So, based on Lady Sophia’s rudeness to her brother and her laughter, you decided you might be interested in her?” That seemed farfetched.
“No, it wasn’t that,” Thomas protested. “Lady Priscilla went to the retiring room, and Sophia said two things, one was to Burnley. She apologized and told him she was merely trying to determine if Lady Priscilla was good enough for him and, thus, befriending her.”
“That was a sweet sisterly thing to do,” Adelia said.
“I thought so,” he agreed. “She seemed kind and reminded me of you, frankly.”
“And the other thing she said?”
Thomas looked down at the table. “After Burnley led Lady Priscilla to the dance floor, Lady Sophia glanced directly at me as if she’d known I was there the whole time and told me it was impolite and sometimes dangerous to eavesdrop. She quite put me in my place, and I liked the cut of her jib, so to speak.”
He shrugged. “Next I heard, she was dead. A sad thing, no doubt.”
“And you didn’t happen to give her your handkerchief, perhapsaftershe drank some champagne?” Adelia asked hopefully.
“Absolutely not.”
“Then how did she come to have it in her hand? It makes you look guilty. Indeed, Lord Burnley is madly seeking its owner as fervently as ever Perrault’s Prince Charming sought the wearer of the glass slipper, but for a far more ruthless reason.”
“Is that why all my handkerchiefs have disappeared?” her brother asked.
“I didn’t know what else to do,” she confessed.
“Do you not think buying new ones will also make me look guilty if discovered?”
Adelia hung her head. “I suppose.”
“I should go speak with Burnley at once.”
“No!” Adelia protested, recalling his behavior with Farrier. “Lord Burnley will not be rational, nor will he believe in your innocence.”
“What do you suggest, as my older, wiser sister?” Thomas asked.
“That you do nothing, I suppose. I burned all your handkerchiefs—”
“You what?” he asked, his tone incredulous.
