Damn, damn, damn. And when would she learn that the history that she took for granted was still being made? “He was—will be—made a baronet. Now please forget I told you that.”
Kendra steered the conversation back toward the investigation at hand. “I wonder if Lady Frances knew about her husband’s affair with Lady Dover? I had heard she’d given her the cut direct, but I assumed that was because of Lady Dover’s relationship with her father.”
“From what little I know of Lady Frances, I do not think she is the type of woman who would turn a blind eye to the affair. I think if she discovered Mr. Roberts’s infidelity, she would have been enraged.”
“I think so too.” Kendra nodded slowly. “The question is: would she have been angry enough to kill?”
They decided to put aside the question of Lady Frances and concentrate instead on her husband.
They drove to John Weston’s drapery shop on Old Bond Street. The tailor had built his reputation on the superior cut of his coat, which had garnered him the patronage of the Prince Regent and Beau Brummell. The shop was currently filled with at least half a dozen dandies; Roberts was not one of them. An assistant at the shop revealed that Mr. Roberts had left the establishment forty-five minutes ago to make his way to Tattersall’s, a prestigious horse market located at Hyde Park Corner.
They returned to the carriage for the short ride, and once they’d arrived, Kendra looked over the area that was both familiar and not. One day, this section of London would become one of the most congested in the city, with a preponderance of memorials and monuments to honor Britain’s most notable figures. Even though Hyde Park Corner was as busy in the nineteenth century as it would become in the future, there were no monuments yet. In their places were buildings and an enormous stable built around a vast cobblestone courtyard that was currently clogged with carriages and horses—and people. With some surprise, Kendra scanned the figures of both commoners and noblemen. The horse market appeared to be the one place in England where the classes could mix freely.
Aldridge said, “Tattersall’s offers the best bloodstock in Europe. You really ought to learn how to ride. Or drive.”
Oh, God. That was something else she didn’t want to think about. But if she remained stranded here, she’d have to consider it.
Kendra’s gaze drifted over the horses that were either being led around by stable boys or standing still while men went about the business of inspecting their fetlocks, hooves, and teeth. They were beautiful creatures, their hides gleaming like they’d just been freshly oiled, their tails flicking at flies, their long ears twitching.
The image of Eva Cooper’s trampled body rose up in her mind. It was no different than the horrific injuries a person could sustain in an automobile accident. And yet the thought of actually getting on one of those beasts scared the hell out of Kendra.
“I’ll think about it,” she said evasively, and prayed she’d never have to do it. “Let’s go find Roberts.”
Except for the few women hawking pastries and fruit, the crowd consisted of men. Kendra was aware of heads turning in surprise as she walked beside the Duke. She ignored them as they traced the Honorable Cecil Roberts to a corner stable, running his hand down the flank of a beautiful chestnut thoroughbred. The air smelled strongly of manure, hay, and leather.
“Mr. Roberts,” the Duke said. “That’s a prime bit of blood. Are you thinking of buying?”
Roberts glanced around, eyebrows lifting. “Your Grace, Miss Donovan.” He gave her a curious look, but was too polite to comment on her presence at the horse market. “I’m considering it. My stables are in need of fresh blood. Are you in the market, as well?”
“Not at the moment, no. Do you mind if we have a moment of your time, sir?”
Roberts stared at them for a long moment, then gave the horse’s rump a light slap. “Certainly, sir.” He pushed himself away from the beast and stable boy, and began walking. “What’s this about?” He shot Kendra another look. “Tattersall’s is not the usual destination for ladies.”
Aldridge said, “We’re not here to exchange civil whiskers with you, Mr. Roberts.”
He frowned. “Is this about Lady Dover’s murder?”
“Yes,” Kendra said bluntly.
“We have already discussed this. I really have nothing more to say.”
They were walking toward the street, where the throng of people thinned. The air was also a bit fresher.
Kendra fixed her eyes on Roberts when they finally drew to a halt. “You failed to mention that you and Lady Dover were intimate. Of course, I can see how that would’ve been a bit awkward, with your wife right there in the room.”
He stiffened, his eyes widening. “That is a ridiculous thing to say! Whoever told you that bouncer, I ought to call him out!”
“Your snuffbox was found in a cottage bedroom in St. Margaret’s,” Kendra told him. “Lord Weston and your wife recognized it as yours.”
He inhaled sharply and stared at her. “Are you saying . . . my God. Lord Weston knows?”
Lord Weston—not Lady Frances.
She told him, “He was shocked. But then it’s probably pretty disturbing to realize that you were sharing your mistress with your daughter’s husband.”
Though Kendra had kept her voice low, Roberts let out an angry hiss, his eyes darting nervously around them for possible eavesdroppers. “Please. Can we walk?”
He began striding quickly toward the park. They followed, keeping pace easily enough.
“It was only once,” he said as he came to an abrupt halt beneath a red oak, turning to face them again. “After the incident at the theater. I met Cordelia quite by accident while out riding. I expressed my displeasure over the humiliation she’d delivered . . .”
When he seemed suddenly at loss for words, Kendra asked, “How did she react to your reprimand?”
“She . . . she laughed, of course.” His lips twisted, but there was a light in his eyes that made Kendra think his memory of their accidental meeting wasn’t entirely unpleasant. “Cordelia was fearless in that way.”
“What happened then?”
Roberts took off his black top hat and swept a hand over his reddish-blond locks, looking into the distance. “I asked her to return the necklace. She invited me to the house on St. Margaret’s.” Now he looked at them, his blue eyes wide and earnest. “I swear that I thought she was going to give me the necklace. That is the only reason I met her there!”
“And when she invited you into the bedroom, you . . . what? Thought she’d give you the necklace then?” Kendra asked wryly. “You are a very good son-in-law. The lengths that you were willing to go to, to fix Lord Weston’s embarrassment.”
He flushed a dull red. “I don’t know how it happened. I truly do not.”
“She entranced you.”
“Yes!”
“And this was after the theater incident?”