“How did you know to come here now?” She had been here last night after Diana’s attack but had gone home before his lordship expired. Elliott knew of the situation here, but he would not have told his mother. Not without Diana’s agreement. “Was it because you knew about the poison? Perhaps put it in the teapot yourself?”
“No!” she cried.
“Then, how?”
She swallowed. She clearly didn’t want to say, but he kept his expression implacable. And when she still didn’t speak, he arched a brow.
Finally, she huffed out an answer. “Tina sent a message last night that his lordship had passed. She didn’t say how.”
“Diana’s maid? She sent a message? You pay her to spy on your daughter for you.” He shouldn’t be surprised. Of course the woman snooped. That’s what women of thetondid because gossip was the life bread of their set. Still, it repulsed him to think that she would—
“Of course I did!” she snapped. “I watch her because I knew. I knew about Geoffrey. I knew that Oscar was too ill to protect her.” She dashed away tears. “But what could I do? She was already married.”
Lucas felt his gut tighten. “You know you did wrong.”
“Yes, damn you, yes!” She looked away. “It was one mistake. One horrible mistake and—”
“And Diana was one to pay for it.”
“Yes.” The one word sounded miserable and carried with it a load of guilt.
And suddenly, Lucas felt ashamed. He had thought forcing the woman to admit what she’d done would ease some of his fury. Because of her, he and Diana had been robbed of a normal courtship. Instead, he just felt empty.
What good was it to force a mother to admit she’d betrayed her daughter? Perhaps he should have a séance and force Oscar’s ghost to admit that he lusted after a child. That he’d used the situation to get what he wanted. Did he also look to Diana’s father, then, for failing to provide adequate income for his family after his death?
All of these people were at fault, and the burden of payment had come to Diana. And if he were truly to point fingers, he needed to confess his own guilt. Twelve years ago, she would have run away with him. He had managed to get the three thousand pounds he needed so they could escape together. He could have found a way to survive for the rest of their lives. They would not have lived in the same way, not with servants and fine food, but Diana wouldn’t now be in mortal danger from her stepson.
How useless it was to blame. He saw that so clearly now. He took a breath, reoriented his thoughts, and gestured the countess belowstairs. “Tell the constable everything. Don’t try to hide from it.”
“He’ll think I did it to save Diana.”
“He might,” Lucas admitted. “He might also see how Geoffrey was the one who frightened everyone and that he is the only one cold-blooded enough to do the deed.”
The countess was no fool. She heard his words and straightened, knowing now what she had to do. Without lying about anything, she would likely point the stupid officer toward the true villain. With a crisp nod, she headed down the stairs just as the knocker sounded.
Lucas knew who it was. The only other people who would sound the knocker at this early hour were Oscar’s children.
He moved to the door, feeling undecided on how he would handle seeing the adult daughter who had tortured Diana. He was still humbled by his revelation with the countess. How could he stand in judgment of Penelope, who had likely been victimized by her family as well?
He pulled open the door and did his best to understand her sour expression and angry demeanor. She’d just lost her father, after all. But within a minute of opening the door, he banished any thought of sympathy. This woman deserved no compassion at all.
Chapter Seventeen
“Who are you?Where’s Simpson?”
Lady Beddoe’s expression was as tight as her hair, which pulled her face up until she looked perpetually startled. And that looked very odd given her sour frown.
Lucas performed a modest bow as he opened the door and stepped back to allow Oscar’s only daughter and her husband to enter. Lord Beddoe, however, remained outside, his gaze on Geoffrey, who was just now sauntering up the street.
When he looked back, he shook his head. “This is bad business. Bad business indeed.” His words didn’t appear to be for anyone but himself. He handed his hat to Lucas—who hadn’t offered to take it—and then headed straight for the parlor and then the sideboard to pour himself a drink.
Meanwhile, Lady Beddoe stood at the base of the stairs. “I suppose Papa’s upstairs, then. I suppose I’ll have to see him.”
Lucas set the hat on the entry table, then stepped to watch Penelope’s expression closely. “Your father is upstairs, but he hasn’t been cleaned up yet. The results of poison can be messy.”
Her gaze cut hard to him. “Yes, Geoffrey told us that shrew poisoned our father.” Then she sniffed delicately. “I’ll wait until things have been properly prepared before I see him.”
“And how did Geoffrey know that?” Lucas asked. “The constable is still completing interviews.”
