“Nothing romantic indeed.” Henry debated whether to stand. He had just settled himself, and the chair was deucedly comfortable, but proprieties demanded he not be seated while a lady stood. He pushed up.
“Well, nothing romantic on my part.” She ran her finger along dusty spines. “I am grateful to him. Mr. Taylor tried to help me out of a dire situation.”
“What dire situation?”
She chewed on her bottom lip.
Henry strode up to her, getting closer than was proper. He didn’t like to use his size to intimidate, especially a woman, but he was tired of her dodges. A man had been murdered. He placed his finger under her chin and lifted her face to his. “What situation?”
Something whispered to his right, and he jerked his head. He saw nothing but the seats they had left and the back of the large wingback. Perhaps the mice had invaded this room, as well. He should tell a maid to let Southey loose in here.
Miss Smith sighed, her breath gusting over his hand. “I thought I had killed him, you see. Lord Perrin. And in order to divert suspicion from me, Mr. Taylor stabbed Perrin’s corpse. He brought attention to the knife in the sitting room, then stabbed the body while there were witnesses to me remaining in the room. A perfect alibi.”
Henry blinked. Not much surprised him, but he had a hard time wrapping his mind around her words. “You thought you’d killed Perrin. But you didn’t?”
“No.” She jerked away and started pacing. “He grabbed me at the top of the stairs, you see. I thought he was in his cups and trying to take improper liberties. I pushed him away, and he fell down the stairs. And never got up.” She pressed her hand to her throat. “He was probably struggling for help from the poison when he grabbed at me. Poor man.”
Henry rocked back on his heels. Pushed down stairs. Stabbed. And poisoned. He rubbed his forehead. Perrin had truly had some horrible last moments. “It sounds like it was an accident, or you were defending yourself. Why not just call for help?”
“I intended to, but Mr. Taylor found me next to Perrin’s body. When I explained, he thought I could be in trouble. He said he’d take care of it and to return to the sitting room and not tell anyone.”
“And you agreed.” A sour taste filled his mouth.
She grabbed his arm. “You don’t understand. Perrin had been pulling at my dress, my body, and then he was dead, and I felt numb. I didn’t ask Mr. Taylor to do it. I wanted to speak up, many times, but if I did, then I would get him in trouble, as well.”
A soft snort sounded. Frowning, Henry went to the door and flung it open. No one. If he was the type of man to believe in ghosts, he would think Perrin’s spirit was haunting them. He closed the door again and returned to Miss Smith. “So Mr. Taylor desecrated a body out of the kindness of his heart, and now he wishes you to marry him as repayment for that favor. Do I have that right?”
She frowned. “It isn’t like that. He said that if we were married, neither of us could testify against the other. And he might care for me a little. He had shown interest when hethought I was Perrin’s intended and quite out of his reach. There’s a chance I might have an affectionate husband.” She eyed him up and down. “I don’t suppose any of your contracts ever contain a clause about that. That a husband, after buying his wife, must at least show her some tenderness.”
Henry ignored the scorn in her voice. He wasn’t an expert on criminal law, but he didn’t think Taylor’s reasoning was strictly true. A husband and wife couldn’t be compelled to testify against each other for acts or speech that occurred during the marriage, not before. But he wasn’t here to give Miss Smith legal advice. “If he is so affectionate, why did he grab you?”
She rubbed her arms. “He was upset. I told him that since Perrin was killed by poison, we no longer needed to marry. I wasn’t responsible for his death. Mr. Taylor said that I could still be in trouble for pushing Perrin, and that it would be reckless not to marry. He may be right.”
Henry shook his head. She couldn’t be that naïve.
Apparently, he wasn’t the only one to think so.
“He’s only upset because dreams of his life of ease are disappearing.” Lady Mary’s head popped up over the back of the wingback chair. “Really, girl, you might not have the finest mind in London, but use what brains the Lord did give you. That man is using you.” She sniffed. “And mucking up my investigation in the process.”
Chapter Twelve
Katherine
Katherine pressed herhand to her racing heart. “You’ve been sitting there the whole time?” She cleared her throat, not liking the squeak in her voice. In a lower tone, she said, “You should have announced yourself when we entered.”
Lady Mary rose and pushed her spectacles up her nose. “And if you want a private conversation, you should check behind every chair and curtain. Amateurs.”
Katherine’s eyebrows shot up. “So it is my fault that I’ve been spied upon? Twice now?”
“Three times really.” Mr. Evans crossed his arms over his wide chest. “I listened the first time you and Mr. Taylor snuck out on the terrace for conversation.”
Katherine’s cheeks heated. She threw her hands in the air. “And I’d thought Lord Perrin the most ill-mannered person here.” She flounced to a settee and dropped onto it, crossing her own arms.
Lady Mary tossed a book onto the seat of the wingback and leaned against the armrest. “I was trying to determine which poison might have killed Perrin, but this book has not been helpful. Do either of you remember what symptoms he displayed the night he died? I remember he was sweating a bit, but I had thought that was due to proximity to the fire.”
“He was irritable,” Mr. Evans said.
Lady Mary dipped her chin. “He was always irritable.”
