“Yes. Five strands of pearls interspersed with pink diamonds. Supposedly it had been part of King Louis XIV royal household, but that is only conjecture, no doubt advanced by the Weston family. Still, the necklace is quite unmistakable.”
“We are speaking of Lord Henry Weston, the Earl of Dewsbury, are we not?” asked Lady Atwood.
Lady St. James gave her a significant look. “Yes.”
“Dear heaven,” Lady Atwood breathed, shocked. “What possessed the foolish man to bestow a family heirloom on Lady Dover? Even if she was his paramour—”
“Oh, I think there can be no doubt about that, my dear,” Lady St. James murmured slyly. “I’d heard he was dazzled by her. Lady Dover is—was a remarkable beauty. I have to allow her that. One can only imagine how she seduced him into handing over such a valuable piece of property.”
“Disgraceful.” Lady Atwood pressed her lips together. “One does not hand over an heirloom to an inamorata.”
“But that is not the most shocking thing, my dear.” Lady St. James leaned forward, her gaze darting between her guests as though she wanted to absorb every expression that flickered across their faces. “The entire Weston family was at the theater the evening that Lady Dover flaunted the necklace!”
Both Lady Atwood and Rebecca gasped.
The Countess asked, “Lady Weston?”
“Yes.”
“Dear heaven. The utter humiliation.”
“I agree. The Earl should be horsewhipped for bringing such disgrace upon his family.” Having imparted what she considered the most shocking aspect of the story, Lady St. James leaned back, her gaze drifting to the cakes on the tray beside her. She selected another wedge, popped the bite-sized morsel into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed before continuing. “I heard that Weston’s son, Viscount Dawson, visited Lady Dover the next morning to demand that she return the jewels.”
Rebecca asked, “Did she?”
“She refused, and the on dit is that she laughed at the young puppy. Can you imagine? Really, the woman was quite shameless.”
The image of Lady Dover’s body lying on the table in the morgue came to Kendra’s mind. The frenzied, furious stabbing indicating an uncontrollable rage.
“Who is Lord Weston?” asked Kendra.
“He is the seventh Earl of Dewsbury, my dear.” Lady St. James gave her a pitying look. “Americans have done away with titles and rank, have they not? I really don’t know how you manage. It seems so . . . undisciplined.”
Easy to say when you’re born into the part of society that holds titles and a pampered position, Kendra thought.
“I seem to recall that Lord Weston has three daughters, as well as their son,” Rebecca said. “Lady Isabella—”
“Yes, and Lady Louisa and Lady Frances,” Lady St. James rushed in, obviously disliking having her own story usurped. “Naturally, the Viscount is the heir, although I’d heard there is not much left of the family estate in Dewsbury. Lord Weston had several bad investments, you know. The family lives in London most of the year. Dawson will no doubt be on the hunt for an heiress soon.”
“Yes, I’d imagine,” murmured Lady Atwood.
“Thankfully, Lady Weston managed to successfully marry off two of her daughters. My sympathies lie with the middle chit, Lady Louisa. The poor dear failed to bring any suitor up to scratch during the last three seasons. She must be approaching two and twenty now.”
“Oh, dear.”
“It wasn’t as much of an issue when the eldest daughter wed. A mere Mister, but he works in the government; I can’t recall which cabinet. However, the youngest chit recently wed the Honorable Mr. Cecil Roberts, who is in line for an earldom when his grandfather expires. An excellent match, but it must have created quite a bit of consternation for Lady Louisa, I’d imagine.”
Kendra asked, “Why would that be a problem?”
Lady St. James regarded her with surprise. “Why, because she married before Lady Louisa, who is older and has yet to secure a match. ’Tis mortifying. There has been talk that Lord Ludlow has shown an interest in the poor wretch, but unfortunately, the man is known to be a high stickler. This scandal with Lady Dover could very well frighten him off. More tea?” She lifted the pot, and cups rattled as tea was replenished.
“Pray tell, did Lord Weston ever retrieve the necklace?” Lady Atwood inquired, stirring milk and sugar into her tea.
“Not that I’d heard. Though the silly man should never have given it to the creature in the first place, of course.”
“I fancy he’s now suffering for his foolishness.”
“The entire family is suffering. Lady Weston hasn’t shown her face in public since that night at the theater. Taken to her bed, I’ve heard, and dosing herself with laudanum.”
Rebecca said, “Poor woman!”
“Yes, indeed,” agreed Lady St. James. “I must admit that I applaud Lady Frances’s fortitude. She carried on with the ball she’d had on the calendar . . . although I dare say it would’ve caused even more gossip to call it off.”
“When was that?” Kendra asked.
“Monday evening.”
Kendra stated the obvious. “The night Lady Dover was murdered. Do you know who attended the ball?”
“Most of London attended. I attended. It was a dreadful crush. I’m certain that the Ton was hoping to witness another scene like the night of the theater,” Lady St. James confided with a knowing smile.
Kendra had a feeling Lady St. James fell into that category. “So the entire Weston family was there?”
“Yes—well, no. Not Lady Weston. As I mentioned, the humiliation has forced her to her bedchamber.”
Rebecca’s mouth tightened. “Lord Weston should be the humiliated one. He is responsible for the scandal.”
Lady St. James lifted her eyebrows. “If only that was how society worked, my dear. But men will be men, you know.”
“And women will suffer,” Rebecca muttered beneath her breath.
Kendra put down her teacup. “What about Lord Dover—Lady Dover’s stepson?”
“I do not know if he attended the ball. I have only the slightest acquaintance with him, but I did not see him. In the horde of people, though, he could easily have been missed.”
“No, I meant . . . I heard that he and Lady Dover had a contentious relationship,” Kendra said carefully.
Lady St. James’s eyes brightened. “Oh, yes. Gossip is that he never forgave his father for marrying the woman. They had rows about it, which led to an estrangement. He never gave Lady Dover the cut direct, of course, but there was talk that he’d given her the cut sublime and the cut indirect a time or two.”
A month ago, Kendra had learned that the cut direct was looking someone dead in the eye before ignoring them. The cut indirect was pretending not to see the other person in the first place.
But she had to ask: “What’s the cut sublime?”
“You don’t have the cut sublime in America?” Lady St. James gave her a pitying look. “Well, ’tis simple, really, my dear: if you wish not to speak to a person who is approaching you, you raise your eyes until the offending person is gone.”