His lips twitched. “How fortunate for me.” He sat back on the windowsill. “Of course, you did notice how attentive Perrin’s secretary was to Miss Smith. And the clandestine meetings the two of them have had since Perrin’s death.”
“Of course.” I rolled onto the balls of my feet. “I’ve spoken with Miss Smith and she is no longer a suspect in my eyes.”
“But Mr. Taylor hasn’t been similarly cleared?”
I inclined my head. “He has not.”
“A pity.” Mr. Ryder smoothed a hand down his cravat. “No one here seemed to be overly fond of Lord Perrin, exceptperhaps for Miss Walker. She seems quite distraught at his death.”
“Too distraught?” I asked. I joined Ryder at the window. The man might be infuriating, but he did seem to have a strong ability to read people’s motivations. I was curious if he thought Miss Walker might be overplaying her hand.
“Too distraught over the man, perhaps.” He cocked his head. “But over the loss of a dream, of wealth, status, no, her mourning might be in proportion to all that.”
Yes, a lost dream was one of the hardest things to mourn. I stared out the window. A large pond glittered in the sunshine, making me believe spring had finally arrived. The ice house stood nearby, a small domed structure dug into the earth that had been Perrin’s resting place these past three days. I should be thinking about how soon he could be laid to rest in a proper grave. Instead, I wondered what he might have known about my and his brother’s lost dream.
“Have you noticed Lady Havenstone’s eyes?”
I blinked, the change in topic jarring. “No. What about them?”
“Her pupils have been unusually large on several occasions. Some women attempt that for cosmetic purposes, but I have seen her rubbing her lower back frequently. I believe she suffers from some ache.”
“And?” My brow cleared. “Oh. And a treatment for pain relief is belladonna. Drinking the juice from the berries also dilates the pupils, and in large enough amounts, kills. Lord and Lady Havenstone may have access to a poison that could have killed Perrin.” I’d ask Marie to confirm that one of the vials in Havenstone’s potion case was belladonna.
I gave Ryder an approving look. “For all your complaining about leaving these matters to the proper authorities, you seemto have a natural talent at investigating yourself. Anything else you’ve noticed?”
“Only that Mr. Withers enjoys gambling more than is healthful.” He pressed his lips into a white slash. “He tried to make his townhouse a stake in a game of hazard he and Havenstone played last night. Fortunately, Havenstone was not so reckless.”
My breath hitched. I knew Bertram liked his games, but I hadn’t realized he liked his stakes so high. Perhaps when Perrin had swindled him out of his gaming winnings, it had been a bigger blow to Bertram than I’d thought. Perhaps he had needed those winnings to cover great losses he may have sustained elsewhere.
There was no way to ask Bertram the question without both putting him on notice he was a suspect and having him tell me it was none of my business to my face.
But there was someone of my acquaintance who might have answers. He also might tell me to mind my own business, though in a much more civilized manner. Then again, he might not. I’d send a letter to him as soon as the post was able to reach London.
Mr. Ryder held out his book. “If you want to understand why someone would kill, there is no better instructor than Thomas Aquinas.”
I reached for it, but he held on for a moment, the book connecting the two of us. I swallowed. “Thank you. More light bedtime reading, I’m certain.”
Ryder grinned, his eyes crinkling at the edges. “You are a most challenging woman, Lady Mary. I do hope you will remember that while sensibility might lead to a bit of tedium, its opposite can have much more hazardous effects. Do be careful.”
As I could see he was in earnest, I bit back a flippant response. “I will.” Or I would try, at least. I always did try to becareful; matters just went askew at times. I pulled the book from his grasp.
Ryder lifted his face and sniffed. “Is that….?” He pulled his watch from his pocket. “Two o’clock. I believe luncheon has been set out. Shall we see what Cook Clem has prepared today?” He crooked his elbow.
I took his arm. Having someone to keep pace with seemed the only way to restrain myself from racing into the dining room and greedily piling my plate unbecomingly high. “Let’s.”
Chapter Fourteen
Lady Mary
Ifinally foundmy quarry in the front sitting room. Marie was kneeling on the floor, a bucket of muddy water by her side, a wet rag in her hand. The late afternoon sunlight glinted off her auburn hair. “Hardly anyone uses this sitting room,” I said. “I wouldn’t think it would need much cleaning.”
The maid looked up, a scowl on her face. “It wouldn’t, exceptsomeonekeeps putting Southey outside and when ’e comes back in, ’e trails this muck everywhere.”
“The outside air is healthful to dogs.” I cleared my throat.
Marie narrowed her eyes and scrubbed at a brown streak on the peach-colored rug.
I winced. I hadn’t meant to give the maids more work, but the dog did need to go out to do his business. And a bit of mud was of no comparison to the damage that beast was making of my skirts and boots.
