She drew in a breath, visualizing aParisian gown in gold silk taffeta. “You are very generousHarry.”
Harry gave her a slow smile. “I shallenjoy seeing you in them.”
Marrying one’s best friend was a verygood idea, she decided, smiling back at him. She just wished shewas confident about what lay ahead.
She glanced across at her aunt, who’dbecome quite pink in the cheeks while she talked animatedly totheir neighbor, Mr. Grenville, also a widower. Perhaps somethingmight come of it. Erina hoped so.
Ladies who lived alone tended to talktoo much, either to their cats or to anyone who would listen. LikeMiss Snell who did the flowers for the church every Sunday. It wasa sorry state to find one’s self in. Why had she ever imaginedshe’d prefer to remain single?
Chapter Twenty
When Jack returned to London, afterseeing the newlyweds off, he found Viscount Holmes in residence.Over a libation in the gentleman’s library, Jack explained that hewas present when Butterstone died, and he was helping in theinvestigation into his death. A tall elegant man, Holmes expressedhis distress at Butterstone’s death. He added that he would doanything he could to help.
“Sadly, I was away when thefuneral took place. Some flooding on my estate put stock at riskand threatened a few of the farms. Since then, I’ve paid myrespects to his widow. An appalling thing to happen. I can barelybring myself to believe it, let alone attempt to make sense ofit.
Holmes took a sweet wafer biscuit fromthe plate. “Are you far advanced in your inquiries, Captain Ryder?Although I fear you’re here because you aren’t.”
Jack sipped from the glass of claret.“It’s my hope that you might assist me by relating what you knowabout Butterstone’s movements in London before he left for hisestate.”
Seated in the maroonleather wing chair, Holmes crossed his legs. “Of course, I’ll tellyou all I know, which isn’t a great deal. While in Paris,Butterstone found out that his brother-in-law was involved in aplot to assassinate Bonaparte. He insisted Caindale come to Paristo explain himself. Which he did. Caindale admitted to someknowledge of it, but said he’d done nothing untoward. He beggedButterstone to leave it be. But as Butterstone was afraid it wouldcause an international incident, he refused. He grew even morenervous when Welby, the editor of theLondon Gazette, arrived in Paris hoton the trail of a story.”
Holmes paused to drink his claret.“Shortly afterward, Bonaparte died. Was it natural causes orpoisoning? Who can say? Butterstone, unsure of the extent ofCaindale’s involvement, asked me to speak to my colleagues in theHouse to discover if I could, if there was any British involvementin Bonaparte’s death. He suspected his brother-in-law was merelyaggrandizing his role as he was wont to do. Butterstone mentionedthat he planned to advise the French ambassador of hisconcerns.”
“Did he?”
“No idea. Not long after Iwas called away to my estate.”
“What about Caindale? Learnanything about his role?”
Holmes shook his head. “Nary a whisperabout Caindale. As to the English involvement, I doubt there wasever anything serious. There had been grumblings, which Wellingtonimmediately put an end to. It was said that Bonaparte was a spentforce and no danger to anyone. Although no one could be quite sureof that. Of course, the general had escaped before, much to ourcost with so many lives lost at Waterloo.”
“Who were those Englishmencontemplating killing Bonaparte?” Jack asked.
Holmes shook his head. “You’ll neverfind out. It’s been buried. Too embarrassing.”
“So that’s all?”
“Not quite. I did pick upon a rumour that a French agent was in Britain. He had beenobserved by the intelligence service, but they lost track ofhim.”
“Interesting.” Jackwondered if the French agent Holmes mentioned could have been theone dealing with Caindale. All the pieces were starting to cometogether.IfCaindale was to be believed. “So, you have no idea why someonewanted Butterstone dead?”
Holmes shrugged. “Someone who wantedto silence him? Or was it another matter entirely? He was generallywell-liked.” He swallowed. “A good man.”
Jack thanked the Viscount then left.He needed to speak to Ashley. He had to find out the truth. Why hadshe kept what she had learned about her uncle from him? He returnedto the Butterstone’s townhome where he asked to see her.
She came into the drawing room andgreeted him, pale and composed in her black gown. “What news do youbring me, Jack?”
Ignoring the painful wrench, the sightof her produced, he relayed what Holmes had told him and gave herCaindale’s letter. She sat quietly to read it.
When she put it down, Jack leanedforward resting his hands on his knees and studied her expression.“It was Caindale’s reference which supplied this house with themaid who could search your father’s luggage. For this to come abouta young woman was cruelly run down in the street. When did youlearn of it? And why didn’t you tell me?”
Her cheeks paled. “I swear I didn’tknow on the night we searched my father’s correspondence, Jack… Iwould never have…” She looked down at her hands. “I first heard ofit from Thacker two days ago.”
“I’ve seen you since,” hesaid as he tried to deal with his disappointment.
“I wanted desperately totell you. But I couldn’t. Don’t you see? He is my mother’s brother.He is the only male relative Mama has left now. And there’s my auntand my cousins to consider.” Her voice broke, and she hid her facein her hands.
Jack clenched his hands fighting toresist rising to comfort her. “You’ve always suspected him though,haven’t you?”
