“No scandal or skeletons in the closet?”
“I didn’t say that.” Rebecca sipped her wine. “I don’t know how this can be relevant since it happened so many years ago, but Lady Anne—Morland’s mother—eloped with his father, who was an infantry man. The old earl was furious.”
“Why? Because she eloped?”
“The elopement was disgraceful enough, but she married an infantry man, Miss Donovan. No title. Undoubtedly penniless. Most earls would have been displeased by the match. Do you really not understand that?”
“Okay. I get it.”
“The earl had a tyrannical reputation. He quite terrified me when I was a child and chanced upon him while visiting the Duke.” She gave a mock shudder. “They say he fetched Lady Anne home and dispatched her husband to India. As a member of Parliament, he had connections with the War Department. The poor man died over there without ever setting eyes on his son. It really is quite tragic when you think on it.”
“I wonder how Morland felt about never knowing his father because his grandfather sent him away?”
“I’ve no idea, but the earl quite doted on his grandson. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Morland took after his grandfather in looks, which undoubtedly appealed to the old earl’s vanity,” Rebecca remarked cynically. “Nothing like seeing the family line continue on with your male heirs, while your daughters and granddaughters can wither on the vine. If, that is, you cannot use them to expand one’s empire!
“’Tis a man’s world, Miss Donovan,” she added, scowling. She was silent for a moment, then huffed out a sigh. “But that’s neither here nor there. There was no estrangement between Morland and his grandfather when the earl was alive. Sadly, the earldom couldn’t be passed to Mr. Morland, but rather went to a distant male cousin. However, Morland was fortunate in the fact that Tinley Park was not entailed.”
“Why didn’t Lady Anne follow her husband to India?”
“I don’t know the details. I suspect she discovered that she was increasing, which would have made traveling to India out of the question. I daresay by the time it was a possibility, it was too late. Her husband had already expired. Sad how life works out sometimes, isn’t it?”
“You never know what life will throw at you, I’ll give you that.” She joined Rebecca at the slate board. “Who else do you know that fits the profile?”
“I don’t—”
“Yes, you do.”
Rebecca lifted her brows. “Are all maids as dictatorial as you are in America, Miss Donovan?”
Kendra frowned. “The Duke came up with eight men that fit the profile. I’d like your input.”
“And what then, Miss Donovan? What do you expect to do?”
“Interview the suspects, find out where they were on the night of the murder. We can eliminate everyone who has an alibi.”
“I see.” Rebecca gave her a strange look. “And you will do this . . . how? You—a maid—expect to quiz your betters?”
Kendra stared at her in consternation. How in God’s name was she going to conduct this investigation if she wasn’t allowed to interview the suspects?
Lady Rebecca looked amused. “You seem to forget your station in life, Miss Donovan. What is done, and what is not done.”
“I’m sure the Duke will assist me.”
Rebecca raised her brows. A Duke required assistance from a servant; not the other way around. She smiled suddenly, tapping her chin with her fan as she circled Kendra. “Hmm. I don’t require a lady’s maid. My maid, Mary, is most exceptional.”
Kendra eyed her warily. “Good, because I pretty much sucked at being a lady’s maid.”
“Sucked?” Diverted, Rebecca laughed. “You Americans have such colorful expressions. However . . . I’ve never had a companion.”
“Companion?”
“A lady’s companion.”
“Lady Rebecca, are you by any chance asking me to be your companion?”
“Yes, I believe I am. ’Tis most unusual, but . . . you, my dear Miss Donovan, have just bettered yourself.”
23
From her bedroom window, April Duprey watched the Bow Street Runner make his way carefully down the cobblestone street that gleamed black from the thin drizzle falling from the evening sky. When he stopped abruptly, glancing back toward the house, his eyes seeming to angle straight toward her window, her heart jolted and her fingers, on the lace drapery, tensed. She forced herself to let go of the material and step away.
She wondered uneasily if he knew that she’d lied to him. She was very good at lying—it was a necessity for being a good whore.