“Oh! I hadn’t thought of that.” She ran a finger along her plump bottom lip, which hardly helped him gain control of himself. “It isn’t so farfetched to believe that Bart wrote the letter to warn someone, the reason for which we are yet to discover, and the person who poisoned him burned it.”
Jason smiled into her lovely eyes. “My thoughts exactly.”
The heightened atmosphere dissolved when Lady Kinsey entered.
“I believe Lord Nicholas received guests while he was here?” Jason asked.
Lady Kinsey sat next to her daughter. “It was just before Kinsey departed. Lord and Lady Howard, came with their son, Gareth, and their daughter, Felicity, who is Nicholas’ fiancée.”
“They were discussing the wedding, which is to be held at St George’s next month,” Helen added.
“Had they visited before?”
“But of course,” Lady Kinsey said, “they are regular dinner guests.”
“While Bart was in service?”
“Yes. Both he and Jeremy attended them.”
“Did anyone leave the drawing room during that time?”
Helen nodded thoughtfully. “Lady Felicity left with a maid at one point. And my father, Lord Howard, and Gareth spent an hour in the library with their cheroots and brandy.”
“Did you notice if anyone spoke to Bart?”
“I couldn’t say what occurred in the library, but not here in the drawing room,” Helen said.
Lady Kinsey lowered her head, looking defeated. “I can’t imagine they’ll want to visit us again with this hanging over our heads. But I think you’re drawing a long bow there, Peyton.”
“You are most likely correct, my lady, but I cannot leave any stone unturned,” he said, attempting to hide his frustration.
After a cup of tea and two moreish coconut macaroons, Jason prepared to depart. Seeing Lady Helen again was the highlight of another fruitless search for clues. As the magistrate exhibited no interest in the case, which still could be perceived as an accidental poisoning, he supposed he would now waste the rest of the day at Bow Street.
Hailing a hackney, he sat back and crossed his arms, reflecting on his own surprising behavior. He responded to feminine beauty; he was a man after all. But he couldn’t remember a woman affecting him quite the way Lady Helen did. She didn’t flirt with him. In fact, she’d made it quite plain the kiss was to be forgotten.
A mocking voice in his head suggested that his regret was merely a blow to his ego. It wasn’t. It was something far more profound. He had sensed for some time that Helen carried a wound to her soul, which called to him, perhaps because of his own sad history. He had little confidence this enlightenment would lead them anywhere, however. Not with the strong wall she’d built around herself to keep out the world. But it had become imperative that he earn her trust.
***
When her mother became busy with her charity, she asked Helen to discuss the preparations for the ball with Mrs. Chance.
Helen sought out the housekeeper, while her thoughts returned, as they were wont to do, to Peyton. She had been determined to remain cool with him and keep their relationship on a business footing. To forget the soft touch of his lips on hers, and his scent, which was so very masculine. But as soon as he appeared before her so big and familiar, she was lost. The way he smiled at her made her feel as if she was the only woman in the world. Charm, she told herself furiously. That was all it was. Her time must be better spent, discovering what she could to help him, instead of acting like a mooncalf.
Finding herself at Mrs. Chance’s parlor door, she took a breath and straightened her shoulders.
The housekeeper was at her desk, her ledger opened before her. “Please don’t get up, Mrs. Chance.” Helen sat in a wooden chair. “My mother wishes me to ask you if there are any problems remaining to be dealt with before the ball.”
“I did wish to consult her ladyship about the curtains in the blue chamber. They are badly faded.”
“There’s no time to change them now. Might we replace them with those in the unused family chamber? Admittedly they are cream, not blue, and quite plain, but will surely suffice.”
“That should do nicely. I shall see it is done. We have sufficient linens for the guest chambers. Some of the towels must be replaced. I thought of ordering a dozen.”
“Yes, please do.”
Mrs. Chance glanced at her ledger. “The crystal chandelier in the ballroom has been taken down and cleaned. The flowers your mother requested for the urns have been ordered. The window cleaner and the chimney sweep have been in and the carpets in the guest chambers taken up and beaten. Fiske has inspected the cellars and ordered Madeira and French champagne. Cook has the menu for the supper dishes.”
“You seem to have it well in hand, Mrs. Chance. Mother has every faith in you.”
