Weston was quiet for a long moment, as though debating what he should say. At last, he said, “It was distressing, but you can’t believe that I would resort to murder to express my displeasure? I would never do that, never do what was done to Cordelia. Never.” He sounded adamant.
“When did you give the necklace to her?” Kendra asked.
For the first time since they’d begun the interview, Weston flushed. “It wasn’t a gift. She asked if . . . well, it was only supposed to be temporary.”
“Okay, so she asked to wear them—”
“Privately,” Weston insisted. “I would never have allowed such a public display. I had no idea that was her intent.”
That brought up a very good point. “Why do you think she did it?”
“I don’t know.”
“To punish you?”
“I don’t know.”
Kendra eyed him. She found it curious that he didn’t ask, Punish me for what? But maybe he didn’t ask because he already knew the answer. If the beautiful Lady Dover had been pressuring him to leave his wife and he was resistant, Kendra could see Lady Dover retaliating by demanding the necklace. She could have then worn it in public to embarrass his entire family. It was outrageous and vindictive. Unfortunately, Kendra felt a growing certainty that it had also been the trigger for her murder.
“When did she ask you for them?” she asked.
“I don’t recall the exact date.”
“How long before the theater?”
He frowned. “A week or two. I’m not certain. Why is that important?”
“I’m curious how long she’d been planning to make your relationship public. It wasn’t impulse that made her put on that necklace that night.”
Weston’s flush had subsided, leaving him pale. “I hadn’t thought about it.”
Kendra waited a beat and then changed tack. “You must have been furious when you saw her the next morning to ask for the necklace back.”
Weston hesitated. “I was upset,” he allowed warily.
“What was her mood like? Apologetic, or perhaps regretful? Or did she taunt you, like she’d taunted your son?”
Weston’s eyes lit with something indefinable, but angry. “My son has nothing to do with this. He was at his sister’s ball the night of the murder—as was I.”
“Lady Frances’s ball was even more crowded than the one last night,” Kendra countered. “It wouldn’t be too difficult to leave unnoticed.”
“That’s absurd.”
But Weston was becoming increasingly agitated. The silver flashed as he twisted the penknife. Kendra stared at the man’s elegant hands and could easily envision those long, tapered fingers curled around another knife, its blade narrower and more deadly.
She lifted her gaze to his. “Where does Lady Frances live?”
“Mount Street,” he replied with a weary tone.
Somewhere down the hall, the ethereal notes of a harp rose up. Kendra glanced at the door, listening for a moment, then looked back at Weston. “Nice,” she commented.
“My daughter Louisa. She’s rehearsing for Mrs. Biddle’s salon next week.” He said it grudgingly, almost as if he didn’t want to give her any information, even something as benign as his daughter’s recital.
Weston put the penknife to the side and looked at Aldridge. “I don’t mean to be rude, sir, but I have other business to attend to yet this morning. Are we done here? I don’t know what else I can add.”
Kendra smiled. It never failed to amaze her how she could conduct most of the interview, and yet the Duke was still the one called upon to end it. Was it because his title gave him the position of power? Or because he was a man?
She rose but kept her gaze on Weston. “Do you have any idea who might have killed Lady Dover? Did she ever mention being afraid of someone?”
Weston frowned as he pushed himself to his feet as well. “Never. I’m convinced it was a housebreaker. I heard her house was robbed after the murder.”
“No, what was done to Lady Dover was very personal.”
Aldridge reached for Kendra’s arm. “Thank you, my lord. I realize this is unpleasant business, but it is necessary. Please, stay. We can show ourselves out.”
Weston looked relieved.
The Duke exited first, with Kendra following. Pausing deliberately on the threshold, she swung around to look Weston in the eye once more. “Did Lady Dover tell you her secret, milord?”
He froze. “Pray tell, what secret is that?”
Kendra kept her gaze on his face for a long moment. Then she said, “I’m sorry, I’m not at liberty to say.”
She stepped out into the hall and closed the door—but not before she saw Weston’s hand tremble as he lifted it rub his jaw.
In the hall, Aldridge said softly, “I suspect he knows what Lady Dover’s secret was.”
Kendra smiled without humor. “Oh, he most definitely knows.”
The sound of the harp still filled the hall. Kendra tugged the Duke farther down the hall, toward the sound, and they studied the domestic scene beyond the drawing room’s open door. Lady Louisa, wearing a charming ivory Indian sprigged muslin day dress, sat on a stool, her arms outstretched gracefully as her fingers plucked and strummed an enchanting melody from the beautifully carved instrument. On the gold-and-brown paisley fringed sofa, Lady Weston and Lady Isabella sat together, their heads covered in lacy mop caps, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as they pushed their needles and colorful silk floss through the material stretched tight across embroidery hoops.
Kendra didn’t think they’d made a sound, but suddenly Lady Louisa’s gaze shot toward them. Her hands dropped from the harp like pale birds falling in midair. The only sound left in the room was the hiss and pop from the coal fire in the grate.
Lady Weston glanced up. “What is it, Louisa?”
“We have company, Mama.” Her voice was colorless as she nodded toward Kendra and the Duke hovering in the doorway.
Lady Weston gave an inelegant squeak when she saw their guests. “Dear heavens.” She pushed herself to her feet in a flurry of skirts. “Your Grace! It is you, is it not?”
“It is I. Please, forgive the intrusion,” Aldridge said, unable to stop the ladies from offering curtsies. “My ward and I were simply swept away by your daughter’s playing. It is enchanting.”
“You are most gracious, sir. Let me introduce you to my daughters Lady Louisa and Lady Isabella. Lady Isabella is married to Mr. Sedwick, who works for the Home Office.”
“Good day, my lady. And this is my ward, Miss Donovan.”
“We are already acquainted with Miss Donovan, Your Grace,” Lady Louisa said, regarding Kendra with a veiled expression. “We met at the Digby Ball last night.”
“I see.” Lady Weston offered a polite smile. “Sir, will you and your ward sit? I shall ring for tea.”
“Do not trouble yourself, Your Ladyship. We only came to call on Lord Weston and were in the process of leaving.” He gave Kendra a questioning look. “Is that not so, my dear?”
She nodded, then smiled at the assembled ladies. “Perhaps we’ll see each other at Mrs. Biddle’s salon.”
Lady Isabella frowned. “You will be in attendance?”