Chapter 24
“You made the front page news,” Diana told Viola the following morning. Standing in Viola’s bedroom doorway, she wore an apologetic expression.
Viola stared at the dreaded paper in Diana’s hand. “How bad is it?”
“Well, there’s a caricature of you selling sexual favors to a long line of men, including your husband, Mr. Lowell and Tremaine.” She held it up for Viola to see.
Viola sucked in a breath. “Dear God.”
“I think you may be the center of attention for quite some time.”
“Really?” Viola made no attempt to hide her sarcastic retort. She rubbed her hand over her face in frustration. “Henry has been ridiculed. Peter too, Lord rest his soul.”
“You need to hold your head up high now. If you present yourself as weak, those who wish you ill will take advantage.”
Viola nodded. “I’m not ashamed of who my mother was.” She crossed the floor, accepting the paper from Diana. A quick glance at the caricature made her insides contract because of the effect it would have on Henry, his family, the case. “She did what she had to in order to survive, just as you and Harriet once did.”
“Neither one of us chose our path willingly. It might have been the same for your mother.”
Viola considered her suggestion before saying, “It doesn’t matter. She gave me life when she could have chosen not to. I will always be grateful for that.” She gave the paper a final glance before tossing it onto her bed. “There’s too much to do for me to worry about inevitable gossip.” She grabbed her spencer and followed Diana out of the room. Henry would arrive soon. If she meant to have a slice of toast and a cup of tea before he did, the time to do so was now.
“Ignore them,” Henry advised her an hour later when they alit from his coach on Bow Street and passersby stopped to stare.
She heard someone mutter, “Courtesan,” and “Fallen woman,” before she preceded Henry into the Bow Street office. The door closed behind them, silencing the crowd. Viola expelled a breath and glanced up at Henry. “I am trying.”
He gave her a warm look of encouragement and stepped forward to address a man seated behind a wide desk. The man looked up. “How may I help you?”
“My name is Mr. Henry Lowell and this is the Duchess of Tremaine. We’re here to open an investigation into the murder of a Miss Olivia Jones.”
If their names meant anything to this man, he showed no indication of it as he stood, his expression a mask of complete inscrutability. “Wait here one moment please, while I confer with one of the officers.” He departed through a doorway directly behind him.
“Have you ever dealt with the Bow Street office before?” Viola asked Henry as she glanced around the reception. It was sparsely furnished with only the desk and a chair to go with it. A long case clock to Viola’s left conveyed the passing of time.
“Last year, after helping Florian and Huntley save Juliette from Bartholomew, I informed the officers here of what had transpired so they could come to the scene and investigate. They brought the chief magistrate with them and showed extreme professionalism.”
The man from earlier returned. “Officer Ericson says he would like to speak with you directly. If you’ll please follow me.”
Viola and Henry were shown into a tidy office that indicated Officer Ericson’s preference for order. A young man with neatly combed brown hair, he stood as soon as they entered. “Your Grace.” He offered Viola a stiff bow before turning to Henry. “Mr. Lowell. My secretary says you wish to investigate a murder.” He extended his hand toward two vacant chairs and waited for Henry and Viola to sit before resuming his own.
“That is correct,” Henry said. “The victim’s name was Olivia Jones. She was stabbed to death in the St. Giles area five years ago.”
Officer Ericson frowned. “Time destroys evidence. It won’t be an easy investigation.”
“We realize that,” Viola said. She leaned forward slightly. “Is it possible her death was reported when it happened? Perhaps you have notes to look back on, an examination of her body or an interview with her family and friends?”
Officer Ericson regarded her with a shrewd gaze. “Can you offer any information about her, like age or appearance?”
“She would have been under the age of thirty, perhaps even twenty,” Henry said. “We believe the Duke of Tremaine had a hand in her death so—”
“Hold on one minute.” Officer Ericson looked at them each as though they were barking mad before pinning Viola with a discerning gaze. “Are we speaking of the man who’s so intent on proving you to be a social-climbing charlatan that he’s willing to drag you to court and have your husband’s will contested?”
“You keep appraised of the news, I see.”
“It is part of my job to do so.” He stared straight back at her without flinching.
“We would not have come here unless we believed our suspicions about Tremaine to be accurate,” Henry said.
Officer Ericson shook his head. “Do you have any idea how this will look if the papers get hold of it? You’ll be accused of sullying a duke’s reputation on top of everything else.”
