One More Kiss

CHAPTER Thirty-five





LORD BELMONT AND the marquis returned to the salon just as Beatrice was thinking that they should go change for dinner. Whatever the countess had planned would probably be postponed, but she had not yet returned to tell them what to expect.

It would hardly do to continue their entertainments when one of the guests had died that very day. Not that they needed to go into mourning; after all, none of them was related to Baron Crenshaw. But it would be a gesture of respect to maintain no more than a quiet presence.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the earl began, “I thank you for your patience. I have a few questions to ask, then you may be excused to your rooms. The countess will be along shortly but she asked me to advise you that the ladies will have trays sent to their rooms. The gentlemen will gather in the small dining room, where their meal will be served.”

“A tray in our room is exactly the right thing, is it not?” Beatrice asked her sister. “The countess always knows what to do.”

“I suppose so. It has the added benefit of keeping you and Papa apart until you both calm down.”

“You mean until you can convince me to do as he wishes.”

“I hate it when the two of you are at odds. Please calm yourself.”

“I do want to be calm,” Beatrice insisted in a reasoned voice that almost hid her annoyance. “There is always the chance Papa will come to our room. Well, it won’t be the first time I have pretended a headache and gone to bed before dark.”

“If I could have your attention, please.” Lord Belmont waited until the quiet conversations stopped. “The ladies are free to leave if they wish. There is no reason to involve any of you in this discussion.”

Lady Olivia and Miss Wilson stood, and Cecilia took a step toward the door. Mrs. Wilson and Nora Kendrick did not move a muscle. That was a relief, as Beatrice had no intention of going, either.

“Before you leave, ladies, Mr. Garrett will be holding a service tomorrow before dinner if you would like to spend some time in prayer and reflection for the repose of Baron Crenshaw’s soul.”

Lord Belmont’s announcement awakened Miss Wilson from the shocked sensibility that had held her in thrall for the last few hours. “Mama,” she whimpered and began to cry. Her mother put her arm around her shoulders and escorted her from the room. Lady Olivia followed them.

“The poor thing.” Cecilia came back to sit beside her sister. “It’s as though she did not believe it was real until that moment.”

Cecilia drew a deep breath and Beatrice wondered if her sister was about to start crying, too. There was not a tear in her own heart, Beatrice thought. All that rested there right now was worry for Lord Jess.

“I hope she knows how fortunate she is to have her mama at a time like this.” No sooner were the words out of Cecilia’s mouth than the footman opened the door and Mrs. Wilson and the countess came in together.

“Lady Olivia is staying with Katherine until this business is finished,” Mrs. Wilson announced to the room. She sat down next to Mr. Garrett, while the countess came to sit next to her goddaughters.

“Are you all right, dear girls?” the countess asked. In Beatrice’s opinion the countess showed more tenderness for her goddaughters in that one sentence than Mrs. Wilson had given to her own daughter. Beatrice looked at Cecilia and without words they both agreed to lie.

“Yes,” they chorused together.

“Is Papa all right?”

The countess smiled. “He is very fine, Cecilia, though he is upset that our outing kept me from my guests at such a difficult time.”

And embarrassed, Beatrice thought again. The countess did not seem to be at all.

“He is a gentleman in all the ways that count. I want you never to forget that, no matter what the gossips say.” She looked from one to the other. “Do you understand me?”

“Yes, my lady,” they chorused again, though Beatrice was privately thrilled that Papa had such staunch support in the countess. It was exactly the way she wished to support Jess, regardless of what Mrs. Wilson, or those like her, might think or, worse, say.

“The gentlemen’s whereabouts are accounted for, with one exception,” Lord Belmont said.

A hum of conversation came on the heels of the earl’s announcement. Beatrice raised her chin as Cecilia took hold of her hand.

Jess stood at the back of the room as he usually did, looking only vaguely interested in the proceedings.

“It feels like an official inquiry, does it not?” Cecilia asked, sotto voce. “I mean, even without the coroner present, the earl is being very careful in his choice of words.”

“Your attention, please.” Belmont waited a beat after everyone stopped talking. “I am asking the following question in the presence of others so that I will have witnesses when I speak with the coroner.”

Jess was going to lie to protect her reputation. That could not be allowed to happen. She raised her hand and waited until the earl noticed it.

“No,” Jess began, taking a step toward her, but Beatrice spoke as fast as she could summon the words.

“I was with Lord Jess for almost an hour right before Lord Crenshaw’s body was discovered.”

“Thank you, Miss Brent.” Belmont looked at Jess. “That is corroborated by one of the footmen who told me that he saw the two of you in the corridor near Lord Jessup’s room.”

“We met there quite by accident and then spent the next hour together, but out of doors, not in the house.” She bit her lip and could not look away from the earl, afraid of what she might see in the others’ faces.

“Can anyone verify that, Beatrice?” Belmont asked in such a kind voice that she knew he suspected the worst.

“No one but Lord Jess. We were alone.” She felt Cecilia squeeze her hand so hard that it hurt, heard Mrs. Wilson gasp, and was almost certain that she heard Jess swear. The countess was shaking her head, obviously upset.

Belmont shifted to face Jess. “Is that true, my lord?”

Jess hesitated for so long the others began to shift uncomfortably. Finally, he spoke. “Yes.” Jess imbued the word with regret.

“One of you should say that nothing of an intimate nature had occurred, or something like that,” Cecilia whispered.

“Ceci, that would be a lie,” Beatrice whispered back.

“Shh,” Cecilia said, even though she was the one who’d brought up the subject.

“Thank you, again, Miss Brent. Your honesty comes at some cost to yourself, but I am sure in the end that virtue will be rewarded.” The earl bowed to her and then to the marquis.

“Lord Destry, I appreciate your request that I solve this unfortunate puzzle. From what I have learned about everyone’s whereabouts, I conclude that no one in the party or on staff had the opportunity to commit a crime against the baron. So it appears that Lord Crenshaw’s death was an accident. Though why he chose to view the race from the banqueting platform and quite alone will remain a mystery.”

Marquis Destry came to the center of the room to stand next to Belmont. “Thank you, my lord.” He nodded to Belmont and announced, “We are finished.”

If only that were true, Beatrice thought.

Jess did not move as the others rose, maintaining his favored spot on the edge of the crowd. There was nothing remote about the way he was watching her. His eyes considered her with a speculation that showed anger and frustration. She wished it thrilled her heart. Instead it frightened her.