My mother placed a hand on my arm. “Shall I come with you?”
“No,” I said quickly. The only thing that could make this more awkward would be if my mother was in attendance. “I’ll be fine. He … he is the writer I knew on Corfu.”
Her eyes widened as understanding dawned. “I see.” My mother then waited for me to continue, clearly expecting me to say more, but that would inevitably lead to more questions I did not want to answer.
“I should go find your father anyway. It’s nearly time for his nap, and I am supposed to call on Lady Addison in an hour,” she said after a moment. “Good luck, Minnie. And thank you for helping your sister.”
“Of course,” I murmured.
She gave me a weak smile, then headed down the hallway to their suite. When she disappeared around the corner, I moved towards the stairs and paused at the landing, but couldn’t hear anything coming from the entryway. Morris must have already shown Mr. Dorian in. That was just as well, as I very much needed a moment to gather my thoughts. I continued down the stairs and stopped by a gilt-framed mirror in the hall to fix my hair. Then I gave a quick look around to make sure I was alone before giving my cheeks a pinch. There. I still looked tired, but not quite as ghastly pale as before.
Then I took a deep breath and charged into the drawing room.
I found Mr. Dorian, with his back to me, stooped over a dark walnut sideboard that was covered with a small collection of framed photographs. He held one in his hand and appeared to be studying it so intently that he did not notice my entrance at first. My eyes lingered ever so briefly on the broad set of his shoulders. His hair was also a bit longer than it had been on Corfu. I hadn’t noticed last night, probably because I had been trying to look at him as little as possible.
“Hello,” I said, attempting for a casual, breezy air and failing miserably.
He immediately replaced the frame and whirled around. “Hello.”
I glanced away from his inquiring gaze and walked towards an open chair, but I could feel his eyes upon me with every step. As I couldn’t begin to know how to converse with him, I decided to stick with the strict rules that dictated social calls. “The tea cart should be here shortly,” I said as I sat down.
“Ah. Thank you, but I won’t stay long,” he said, then strolled over and dropped into the chair opposite me.
My hands tightened on my lap, and my spine stiffened in response. Why on earth did I feel disappointed? I smothered the feeling and forced my mouth into a polite smile. “Very well. What brings you here?”
He tilted his head and gave me a wry look. As if we were something like friends. “Surely you have already deduced that.”
I pursed my lips and cleared my throat. “Yes. Fine. The murder.” If he wasn’t going to bother with the standards of polite society, then I wouldn’t either. “That still doesn’t explain why you arehere,” I said pointedly.
His eyes narrowed. “Have you already forgotten that it was my coachman that brought Mr. Pearson home?”
“No,” I said slowly.
“That makes him one of the last people to see the victim alive, apart from you and your sister.”
“Yes, I am aware,” I snapped.
He sat forward in his chair. “Then you are alsoawarethat my brother is the detective on the case.”
I shrugged, now assuming his earlier nonchalance. “Of course. I met him last night. He seems like an intelligent fellow. I suppose that is how you learned of the murder?”
Mr. Dorian’s jaw tightened. “He woke me up at six this morning.”
“Well, that must have been very difficult since you like to keep such late hours,” I drawled.
His dark eyes flashed with irritation. “I haven’t seen him in nearly a year. Not since the—”
But just then there was a scratch at the door, and a maid came in with the tea tray.
The divorce.
I was certain that was what he had been about to say. He had once mentioned that he and his brother were not close, and that the young inspector took issue with Mr. Dorian’s line of work. Now I avoided his gaze and rose to meet the maid, grateful for an excuse to remove myself from Mr. Dorian’s eyeline.
“Thank you,” I said to the blond girl, who looked about the same age as Deirdre.
She gave me a shy nod. “Yes, ma’am.” Then she cast a blatant look of interest in Mr. Dorian’s direction.
I raised an eyebrow, which she noticed, and then quickly hurried out of the room. I rolled my eyes as she shut the door behind her, and began pouring myself a cup of tea.
