Madame Gaudet paused again, but Kendra didn’t think it was her question that had caused the dressmaker’s hesitancy. She’d pushed the gown off Kendra’s shoulders and had probably seen the scars puckering Kendra’s flesh, souvenirs she’d picked up in the twenty-first century.
But Madame Gaudet didn’t make any reference to the old wounds. After a moment, she continued in her task. “Lady Dover was one of my best clients,” she finally said. “She was a woman of great style and discerning tastes. And so lovely—that golden hair, her skin, those eyes! And her figure . . . ah, perfect! A beautiful woman such as she deserved the best of fashion.” She whipped out her measuring tape from the pockets she apparently wore under her skirts. “Please stand straight, mademoiselle. Lift your arms. Merci.”
“When was the last time you saw her?”
“Her Ladyship had an appointment here only a week ago. To think that would be the last time we should speak . . .” She sighed and shook her head. “Life can change so quickly, oui?”
“You don’t know the half of it.”
“Pardon?”
“Oui—life can change very quickly. But tell me about Lady Dover’s last appointment. Did she want one new gown, or did she need a new wardrobe?”
The dressmaker said cautiously, “She requested new gowns, oui.”
Kendra looked at the other woman. “I think you know what I’m asking, madame. Did she tell you about her pregnancy?”
The dark eyes studied her. “This is not idle gossip, mademoiselle.”
“The Duke of Aldridge and I are investigating Lady Dover’s murder.”
“A nobleman such as the Duke of Aldridge conducting an investigation into murder? And you—a woman? I have never heard of such a thing.”
“There’s a first time for everything.”
The Frenchwoman continued to stare at her. “I know Lord Sutcliffe is a suspect in the crime. I suppose their connection explains His Grace’s interest . . . but I do not think it would be good business to gossip about my patrons.”
“That’s too bad.” Kendra let out a long sigh. “The Duke told me that I could order whatever gowns I wanted. But I’m not sure if I’m in the mood anymore . . .”
Madame Gaudet apparently came to the decision that satisfying a live customer was much more lucrative than keeping the secrets of a dead one. “Lady Dover had many lovers over the years,” she said slowly.
“And recently?”
The modiste concentrated on Kendra’s measurements. “She was enchanted by Lord Sutcliffe—that may not help you.”
“I already know they were involved. I want to know who else she was involved with.”
“The father of her child in particular, oui? In that, I cannot help you. We did not discuss . . . her condition. But I was aware. There can be no secrets of that sort between a lady and her modiste.” Her gaze drifted pointedly to Kendra’s scars before returning to meet her eyes.
Kendra gave a faint smile. “How about if I throw out a name? Lord Weston?”
Madame Gaudet gave Kendra a sly look. “The entire Beau Monde is aware of their love affair, since Lady Dover wore the Weston family jewels to the theater.”
“Yes, I heard that it caused quite an uproar.”
“The English, they do not understand passion like the French. They hide their feelings and smile at the world as though their lives are perfect behind their proper iron fences.”
“But the Westons’ lives were not perfect.”
“Is anyone’s? Non. Lady Weston and her daughters are also my patrons. Lady Weston is not a happy woman, I think.”
“I can’t say I’d be too happy either if my husband’s mistress paraded around in jewels that were supposed to be around my neck for everyone to see,” Kendra said. “Did Lady Weston say anything to you about that night?”
“Me? Oh, non, I haven’t seen her for over a month, well before that night at the theater. Her daughters have been in, though, and they spoke of it. Not to me—only to each other. As if I don’t have ears.”
“Which daughters?”
“The older one and the sow-faced one.”
Lady Isabella and Lady Louisa, Kendra noted. “What did they say?”
Madame Gaudet motioned with her hand. “Ah, what did they not say? They spoke of their disgrace, their mother’s humiliation, and Lady Dover’s wickedness. They were distraught. They bought a dozen new gowns.” She smiled with the craftiness of a businesswoman. “Distraught women are my best customers.”
“Retail therapy is a time-honored tradition,” agreed Kendra.
Madam Gaudet’s smile faded after a moment, and a certain grimness stole over her face. “They also said they wished Lady Dover was dead. And then she was dead.” She paused, appearing to be entirely absorbed in her work for a few beats. “Maybe they hired someone to kill their father’s mistress. It’s been known to happen.”
Kendra thought of the frenzied stabbing, the mutilation. A hit man wouldn’t have been so personally invested as to cause such damage. “What about Lord Dover?” Kendra pressed. “Her stepson? Did she ever mention him?”
“Oui. He could put her into a fine temper. She despised him.” Madame Gaudet rolled up her measuring tape and tucked it into her pocket. She picked up Kendra’s discarded gown and helped her back into it. “You think he may have murdered her?”
“Do you?”
She frowned. “They loathed each other for a very long time, I think. Why would he kill her now?”
Kendra thought about the unborn child, and Lady Dover pressuring Weston to leave his wife. Would Lord Dover kill his beautiful stepmother if he thought she was bringing disgrace to his family name, a nineteenth-century honor killing?
“Who do you think might have done it, then?” Kendra asked.
Madame Gaudet considered the question for a long time. “Lord Weston, I think.”
“Why? Because of the necklace?”
She hesitated. “Non . . . because I think Lady Dover took another lover.”
Kendra stared at her, surprised. “Why do you think that?”
The dressmaker gave a shrug. “I do not know how to explain. Her demeanor had changed. For a while, she was happier, in the way a fresh romance makes a woman happy.”
“When exactly did she change?”
“A little less than a month ago.”
So not the father of her child. “Any idea who he was?”
“Non, she didn’t speak a name. But if Lord Weston found out she was playing him false . . .” Madame Gaudet let that idea hang in the air.
“He knew about Sutcliffe, and he seemed to accept that relationship.”
“Ah, but the Marquis and Lady Dover were involved before she began her affair with Lord Weston.”
“What difference does that make?”
“It makes all the difference in matters of the heart. And her affair with the Marquis had run its course.” She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “Perhaps it is my imagination.”
“You said she was happier ‘for a while’. What do you mean?”
A small line formed between Madame Gaudet’s eyebrows. “The last time I saw her, a week ago, she was . . . songeuse. How do you say?”
“Thoughtful.”
“Oui.”
“Not worried or scared?”