“Does the valet no longer work for Hugh?” Phillip asked, frowning.
“No.” Bell shook his head. “Hugh dismissed most of the servants after he arrived in town.”
“Damn him.” Phillip jumped from the carriage and tipped his hat to Bell. “Until tomorrow, then.”
Bell glared at him. “Stay inside. Don’t go out. Now that we know Malcolm was stabbed, you are in danger, too.”
“I hear you,” Phillip replied evenly.
“But are you listening?” Bell prompted, giving him a stern stare.
Instead of answering, Phillip turned toward the house, while Bell’s coach took off down the street. Phillip jogged up the stairs to the front door, taking them two at a time. Lost in his thoughts, he opened the door, gave his cloak, hat, and gloves to Humbolt, and strode toward Clayton’s study. The room was empty, thank heavens. The last thing Phillip felt like doing at the moment was repeating the entire interview with Dr. Kilgore to Clayton. There would be plenty of time for that later.
Phillip took a seat in the large leather chair behind the desk and leaned back. He stared at the wall and rubbed his chin. The most interesting bit of information they’d discovered so far was Lord Vining’s involvement the night Malcolm died. What precisely did Vining have to do with Malcolm’s death? Obviously, the man had been involved somehow. Bell had even asked Dr. Kilgore if he was certain the man hadn’t already been in the house when he’d arrived.
“I saw the coach with Lord Vining in it pull up myself,” Kilgore had replied. “I was looking out the upstairs window.” The doctor had gone on to insist that the only other people who had seen the body (other than the killer) were the valet and one of the upstairs maids. Had one of Malcolm’s servants killed him? If so, what purpose would that serve? Apparently, it had cost them their positions. Was there another reason? And if the servants weren’t involved and Lord Vining was somehow, where did the long, dark hair come from? Of course Phillip had also asked Dr. Kilgore if the maid had long, dark hair.
“I remember distinctly, Your Grace,” Dr. Kilgore had replied. “Because after seeing the hair beneath the duke, I suspected the maid. She had on a cap, and I purposely asked her to remove it.”
“And?” Phillip had prodded, waiting on tenterhooks for the man’s answer.
“Her hair was as blond as an angel’s, Your Grace,” Dr. Kilgore had replied.
“Did you ask the valet if he knew of any dark-haired women who had been, er, visiting?” Bell had prompted.
“Yes, my lord,” Dr. Kilgore had replied. “The valet specifically told me he’d seen a dark-haired woman wearing a bright green cape going down the back staircase just before he found the duke’s body.”
“Yet he didn’t follow her? Didn’t recognize her?” Phillip had nearly raised his voice and had squeezed the arm of the chair he’d been sitting in until his knuckles turned white.
“The valet told me he was used to being discreet in such matters,” Dr. Kilgore had replied. “And when he first saw her, the valet had no reason to believe anything untoward had happened. By the time he found the duke’s body and ran back down the stairs looking for the woman, she had disappeared into the night.”
Bell had essentially told Phillip the same thing on their ride back to Clayton’s. When Bell had spoken to the valet, the story was much the same. Only he hadn’t mentioned the blood.
Phillip cursed again and flipped a letter opener over and over in his hand. They had to be missing something. Who was the dark-haired woman? His brother had mentioned no one to him, but Malcolm was hardly in the habit of discussing his light o’loves in his letters to Phillip. Malcolm had mostly written about the estate and Mother. Of course, Bell had decided the long, dark hair was just another item on the list that made Sophie an obvious suspect. But just because the mysterious woman had dark hair didn’t prove she had been Sophie. Lots of women had long, dark hair. Phillip agreed with Bell that it stood to reason that the dark-haired woman, whoever she was, had murdered Malcolm, then left and possibly alerted Lord Vining. Either that or the valet or the maid was lying. Had the constable alerted Lord Vining for some reason? Why? Phillip made a mental note to tell Bell they needed to talk to the constable again. He also made a mental note to ask Sophie if she was acquainted with Lord Vining. That might just prove her innocent.
Damn it. Phillip was no closer to knowing what happened to his brother than he had been months ago, but one thing was certain, the first two doctors to have seen Malcolm’s body that night agreed…he had been stabbed in the back. Had Malcolm even seen his murderer? Even known who she was? Phillip inwardly shuddered at the notion.
A knock at the door interrupted Phillip from his disturbing thoughts. He turned to see Clayton’s butler standing there. “Yes, Humbolt?”
“A letter has arrived for you, Your Grace,” Humbolt said.
Phillip stood and crossed over the thick rug to meet the servant. He pulled the letter from atop the silver salver that the man carried. “Thank you, Humbolt.”
The man retreated from the room.
Phillip took the letter back to the desk and opened it. His eyes scanned the page. The note was from Sophie. He quickly read the words she had written.
P,
There’s something important I must tell you. Meet me in the park again tonight at midnight. Same spot.
S
A memory of reading Sophie’s letters in the light from a lantern while lying on a cold cot in a tent flashed through Phillip’s mind. They had always addressed and signed their letters with their initials.
But this was unlike any of the letters Sophie had written him while he’d been on the Continent. This was a warning, but without detail.
The counsel from Bell flashed through Phillip’s mind. Stay home. Stay inside. You are in danger. Phillip was no fool. Going out at night to meet Sophie might be a terrible idea indeed. He roughly scratched the back of his head. He could ignore the note. He could throw it away and not meet her. But even as he had the thought, he knew he would not do that. Deep in his gut, he knew he could trust her. The only question was…could he trust his gut any longer?
