She took a seat on the sofa and again thought of the child who’d been hired to spy on the Duke’s household. A couple of days—that’s how long Snake had said the kid had been around. A couple of days ago, she’d begun interviewing the Weston family. But she didn’t know anything then. Hell, she still didn’t know anything solid. She only had theories, shadowy and shapeless things rolling around in her mind.
So why had the unsub felt the need to send the kid to watch her? What did he think she’d learned that had made him try to kill her yesterday? What do I know?
“You’ve risen early.”
Kendra glanced around as the Duke entered the room. “So have you.”
He smiled, but it quickly faded. “I suspect what woke me is what woke you.”
“Yeah.” She expelled a sigh, closing her eyes and tilting her head back against the cushions. “I’ve been trying to figure out why the unsub views me as a threat.” She opened her eyes to find the Duke regarding her with concern.
“You cannot go anywhere alone, Miss Donovan, until the fiend is caught.”
“You’re starting to sound like Alec.”
“My nephew is right in this regard.”
Kendra decided not to argue the point. She wasn’t about to let anything stop her from doing her job, not even the best intentions of the Duke of Aldridge. Instead, she said, “At least we know that we’re on the right track. And it definitely puts the spotlight on the Westons.”
“The spotlight was already on the Westons . . . I think. What exactly is a spotlight?”
Kendra gave a small laugh. “The focus of attention.”
“That is what I assumed you meant,” he said and then yanked on the bell-pull. “Lord Weston remains the most likely suspect. Of course, the fact that his son uses the same snuff that was found at the cottage is damning.”
“It opens up a host of possibilities,” she agreed. “If Weston had found out that his mistress had slept with his son, he could have killed her in a fit of rage. On the other hand, Dawson could have killed her if she threatened to tell his father about the affair. It’s like a bad soap opera.”
“I am not even going to ask.”
Kendra pushed herself to her feet. “I can’t quite wrap my head around Lady Dover having an affair with Dawson. She’d have more to lose than gain from it. And I think Lady Dover was all about gaining.”
“I have an easier time imagining Dawson being a murderer than his mother. Or his sisters, for that matter.” The Duke paused when a footman came to the door in answer to his summons, and he ordered a tray of tea and chocolate and toast.
After the footman left, Kendra said, “You’re not going to tell me that females are weak and helpless, and could never resort to murder, are you? Women can kill. Women do kill. I’m a woman and I’ve killed.”
“There were extenuating circumstances.”
“Jealousy, hatred, and fear can create extenuating circumstances, given the right mindset. I’d say that Lady Weston had all of those going on.”
The Duke looked like he wanted to say something else, maybe argue the point more, but the door opened and Alec came in. He was dressed for riding, in a dark olive green greatcoat with two capes that stretched across his broad shoulders, a simply tied white cravat, buckskin breeches, and gleaming Hessian boots. Despite the bruises on his face, which had faded to a yellowish green, he was still one of the best-looking men Kendra had ever seen—regardless of century.
She ignored the flutter in her stomach that his presence always brought. “Are you sure you should go riding?” she asked. “How are your ribs?”
He gave a soft laugh. “You are the only woman of my acquaintance who would ask about my ribs.”
She scowled. “Your ribs were cracked. I’m hardly going to ask about your big toe.”
He grinned at her. “You are a marvel, Miss Donovan. My ribs, toes, and every other part of my anatomy have recovered, thank you. I need to exercise Chance. The poor animal has been cooped up since my introduction to Bear.”
“You could send a groom or stable boy to do that,” Aldridge argued, eyeing his nephew with concern. “Are you quite up for it, my boy?”
“I need the exercise as much as my Arabian. Being an invalid is maddening. And I have an errand to run.” He went to the sideboard for a cup of coffee. He looked at Kendra over the rim as he sipped. “You shall not be going anywhere alone.”
“You’re the one who has a man named Bear after you.”
“And you are the one who was targeted only yesterday,” he shot back. “Have you forgotten?”
“A woman died because of me,” she said grimly. “I’m not likely to forget it.”
In the small, tense silence that followed her statement, Kendra surged to her feet. “Remember when I talked about the ability to compartmentalize? That’s what we need to do now. We can’t afford distractions. The unsub is still out there, and he—or she—is obviously willing to kill again.”
She set down her coffee cup and moved to the slate board, staring at the names that she’d written until her vision became blurry. She blinked and shook her head to clear it.
“The Viscount seemed pretty desperate the other night when he was gambling,” she murmured, mostly thinking aloud.
Alec took a swallow of coffee and shrugged. “Unfortunately, that sort of desperation is not aberrant. Too many fools lose their fortunes in such places.”
“But Dawson doesn’t have a fortune,” she pointed out.
“I told you, London runs on credit.”
“Yes, but credit eventually runs out,” said Aldridge. He looked at Kendra. “What do Dawson’s finances have to do with Lady Dover’s murder?”
“I left out one thing when we talked about extenuating circumstances that can lead to murder: greed. How much would the Weston necklace go for if it was sold?”
Aldridge lifted his eyebrows. “Does it matter? The necklace was stolen by the ruffians who broke into the Countess’s residence.”
“Was it? We won’t know that until the goods are recovered. It could have been stolen by the killer—a killer who might need it to sell for money to pay off his gambling debts.”
The Duke seemed unconvinced. “One only sells one’s family heirlooms as a last resort.”
Kendra shrugged. “Where I come from, one sells their family heirlooms before their kneecaps are broken. I can’t believe it’s that much different here.”
“It is an interesting theory,” Aldridge said slowly. “But what was done to Lady Dover . . . that was not because of greed.”
“No,” Kendra had to concede. “But if Dawson went to retrieve the necklace and she laughed at him again—I don’t know. He seems to have a temper.”
“And the mutilation?”
“I’m still working on that one.”
“Well, while you do . . .” Alec drained his coffee cup. “I happen to know someone who ought to be able to tell me just how deep Dawson is playing, and if the merchants have begun to cut off his credit. That would certainly make him desperate.” He looked at Kendra. “What is your plan today?”
“We need to interview everyone about their whereabouts yesterday.” Kendra’s gaze fell on the snuffbox on the Duke’s desk. “We can do that when we return Lord Weston’s property to him.”
Alec followed her gaze. “And if it isn’t his? If it’s his son’s?”
Kendra smiled. “Then, I think, things are going to get interesting.”