Rebecca hesitated. “I’m sorry about your maid.”
Kendra’s throat tightened and she managed a nod. “Everyone’s upset.”
In fact, the death of Eva Cooper had cast an unexpected shadow over the household. None of the staff had known her for very long, nor had they really liked her. Molly had confided in hushed tones earlier that the woman had never let anyone belowstairs forget that she was a London lady’s maid, whereas they were all from the country. Her snobbish attitude had rubbed a lot of the staff the wrong way. But none of that mattered now. Kendra doubted if anyone would be donning black crepe for Miss Cooper, which was the mourning tradition, but the maid’s shocking death had melted their enmity.
“Would you like a cup of tea, or a glass of wine?” the Duke asked his goddaughter. “It’s a chilly day.” As if on cue, the windowpanes behind him rattled with a gust of wind.
“Thank you. Madeira would be lovely.” She stepped over to the table that they were standing around. Her eyes fell on the sheet of paper in Kendra’s grasp. “What is that?
“The note that was sent here to lure Kendra to her death,” Alec said, his tone clipped.
Kendra met his gaze, which was still hot with temper, and shrugged. She couldn’t argue with the truth.
Rebecca plucked the note from Kendra’s fingers and read aloud: “Meat me at the Crown tavarn at Piccadilly. At eleven. Come a lone. I no about Lady Dover.”
“Obviously someone who took great pains to convey the impression that they were practically illiterate,” said the Duke, handing Rebecca the Madeira.
“They tried a little too hard,” Kendra said. “An uneducated person would have spelled the words phonetically. That’s where the unsub made his mistake. ‘Meat’—why throw in an a? Someone who didn’t know how to spell would go with an e because they’d be sounding it out. And come? The e is silent. If you were sounding out the word, you wouldn’t put it in.”
Rebecca took a sip of the wine as she studied the note. “The handwriting has also been disguised. It looks to be a jumble.”
Kendra nodded. “Half the letters slant to the left, half to the right. Some are full and round, others are smaller and more angular. Handwriting is like a fingerprints, they have distinctive patterns. This is too inconsistent to be natural.”
Alec was in the process of replenishing his glass of sherry, but froze. Slowly, he put down the decanter and turned to face Kendra. “Are you saying that you knew this note was not authentic, and yet you still went to the Crown?”
She didn’t have to say anything. He read the answer in her eyes, and gave a bitter laugh. “Dear God in heaven. I suppose this is where you tell me again how you can take care of yourself!”
She stood up straighter. “I took precautions. That’s why I went early. I’m not an idiot.”
“Hell and damnation, how do you protect yourself from someone sneaking up behind you and sticking a stiletto between your ribs before pushing you out in front of stampeding horses?”
Rebecca gasped. “Is that what happened to your maid?”
“Yes,” Kendra admitted. “Miss Cooper came after me . . . wearing my old cloak.”
Rebecca’s lips parted in surprise. Then horror dawned on her features. Slowly, she set down her wineglass. “Then I am to blame for the death of your maid,” she said, stricken. “I am the one who suggested you give her that cloak.”
“Enough,” the Duke said, his tone taking on the rare steel quality he so seldom used. “Neither one of you are responsible for Miss Cooper’s death. Her blood is solely on the hands of the man who killed her. Do you understand?”
They understood, and the Duke was right, Kendra knew. But no logic could erase the guilt, the remorse, the wish that you could go back and have a do-over.
Rebecca cleared her throat. “There’s something I don’t understand. How did the villain know you would be home to receive the note, Miss Donovan? Everyone else was at church services.”
Kendra stared at her for a long moment. How indeed?
Abruptly, she shoved away from the table, crossing the room to the window. Outside, the sky had darkened with potbelly gray clouds hanging low, hinting at another deluge in the not too distant future.
“I think I have an idea.”
Alec refused to let her go alone, so they went together. But first she insisted on detouring to the kitchens. The Marquis of Sutcliffe’s presence belowstairs sent the entire staff into a mad scramble into formation, as if he were a military general come to inspect the troops. It had been several weeks since Kendra had had to deal with Mrs. Danbury, but she recognized in the housekeeper’s frosty regard that she was holding Kendra responsible for Alec’s unprecedented descent to the servants’ quarters.
After Kendra had received a package from belowstairs, they returned upstairs. Harding raced ahead to open the door for them. Outside, the cold wind stung her cheeks. She hunched against it, dashing across the street into the park.
They found Snake in his usual spot, huddled against the thick tree trunk for protection against the wind. He was wearing the same threadbare coat, a grubby scarf wound around his thin neck. He straightened when he saw them coming, his eyes darting suspiciously to the brown paper package she held.
“W’ot’s that?”
“A ham and cheese on rye. Watching the house constantly must make you hungry.” She thrust the package at him. “Take it,” she urged when he hesitated.
His eyes, beneath the brim of his wool cap, were bright with hunger. He resisted for a full second before his small hand flashed out, and with a speed that made her blink, the brown package disappeared into his coat.
“W’ot d’ye want?” he demanded.
“You’re welcome,” Kendra replied drily. “You’ve been keeping the Duke’s house under surveillance.”
Snake frowned, perplexed. “Under what?”
“You’re spying,” Alec said abruptly. “Why?”
Snake gave him a cocky look. “Why’dya think? Bear wants ter make sure ye don’t disappear ter the colonies with yer bit o’ muslin ’ere.”
Alec’s jaw tightened. “Miss Donovan is the Duke’s ward. You’d do well to remember that, boy.”
Snake grinned, unabashed. “An’ when does a lofty gent like a duke ’ave his ward go about looking like a servin’ wench, eh?”
“You saw that, did you?” Kendra fixed her gaze on his freckled face. He was ten going on forty.
“Aye.”
“What else did you see?”
He frowned. “W’ot d’ye mean?”
“Have you seen anyone else around, spying on the Duke’s house? Like you.”
“Why d’ye want ter know?”
Kendra showed him the gold guinea she’d palmed and watched his eyes go wide. “I want information, and am willing to trade you this coin to get it. Have you seen anyone else spying on the Duke’s house?”
Snake licked his lips, transfixed by the coin in her palm. “Aye, for a couple of days.”
“Who?”