Page 24

“On Sunday.” His hand shook as he picked up his teacup and took another drink. “She was determined to go to the inquest on Tuesday, and I offered to accompany her.”

“Where did you meet that day?” Electra asked, mostly to confirm a suspicion because of the way Seaton intermittently darted his gaze toward an empty table near the front of the tea shop.

“Here,” he told her, his tone bleak. “Right over there.” He nudged his chin toward the table that kept drawing his eye. “Days ago. It was mere days ago. And now she’s gone.”

The terror she’d initially sensed from him ebbed into something more like sorrow.

“Did you go to the Collier inquest?” Gideon asked.

Seaton grimaced. “No, of course not. Miss Collier was nothing to me, and I only learned yesterday, when I went around to collect Iris, that she had not returned to Eaton Square the previous night.”

He lifted his napkin and dabbed at his lips. Electra noticed his hand still shook.

When he’d mentioned Calliope Collier’s name, the air around him seemed tinged with red. Anger. Or perhaps loathing.

“You did not like Miss Collier,” Electra said.

Gideon snapped his head toward her, then toward Seaton, watching intently for his response.

“I admit as much, Miss Poole. She was a poor influence on Iris, in my opinion.”

“In what regard?” Gideon asked.

“She was a young woman living on her own, with no sense of propriety and seemingly no wish to constrain her own behavior. Iris fretted over the woman’s many paramours and that jealousy might cause one of them to do Miss Collier harm.”

“And how did that influence Iris?” Gideon asked, pressing for the details Mr. Seaton seemed to be skirting.

“Iris seemed to change after getting to know Miss Collier. She became more impetuous. Going with Miss Collier to a dance hall, visiting her lodgings. From the time I’ve known Iris, her closest friend has always been her sister. Yet in the last few months, the one she spoke more about was Miss Collier.”

“When was her visit to the dance hall and what did she tell you about it?” Gideon asked.

Electra suspected he was hoping for mention of anyone else that they might question, anyone who might know secrets of Iris’s that her friends and family did not.

“Perhaps three weeks ago. Sometime in September. She said she didn’t enjoy it, or at least something about it didn’t please her. Because she was very excited before she went, and then when I saw her after she’d returned, I think it was the next day or the day after, she wasn’t pleased at all.”

“Why?” Electra asked when he said no more.

Seaton shrugged. “She wouldn’t tell me much. I thought perhaps she’d had a row with Miss Collier, but she said she wouldn’t be doing that again.” He looked at each of them. “I admit I was relieved. I told her to keep her distance from the Collier woman.”

“How did she respond to that?”

Seaton scrubbed a hand over his clean-shaven jaw. “Not well. She glared at me and asked me to leave. I’d visited her at Eaton Square.”

“Did you row?” Electra could sense there was something that disturbed him when mentioning the incident.

His hand lying on the tabletop near his tea saucer clenched into a fist, and he bowed his head and closed his eyes a moment before lifting his head again.

“I regret it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I told her she’d changed. Just as I said to both of you. I said that her association with Miss Collier had changed her. That’s all I said, I swear it. Perhaps it was my tone, but she seemed hurt by it and became angrier than I’ve ever seen her.”

Seaton reached up and tugged at his neckcloth. His eyes welled with tears, and he lifted his glasses to swipe them away.

“She said I had no idea what I was talking about. That I didn’t understand anything. I begged her forgiveness. A few minutes later, she burst into tears. I was stunned. It was so unlike Iris. But she allowed me to sit with her, even to take her hand and offer that small comfort.” He shook his head. “I should have known then that something was amiss. Her reaction seemed so great to me merely telling her that she seemed altered. I sensed it was something more. I even asked, but she shook her head and said nothing.”

He lifted his cup and drained it, the porcelain rattling as he placed the empty cup in its saucer because he was trembling so.

“She forgave me,” he said quietly. “Even allowed me to escort her to a play.” The ghost of a smile touched his lips and was gone again. “Like we were courting,” he whispered as if to himself.

“Did Miss Delacourt have any suitors?” Gideon asked.