“She has done that already.”
“Ah.” Sedwick retrieved his snuffbox. He eyed his father-in-law as he opened the case and took a pinch. “Miss Donovan appears to be fixated on Lady Dover’s murder.”
“What did she want to know?” Weston asked again.
Sedwick inhaled the snuff and suppressed the need to sneeze. Being able to control one’s bodily functions when taking snuff was an art form. “Have you heard about the factory in Manchester that the Luddites demolished?” he asked, as he slipped the snuffbox back into his coat pocket.
Weston frowned at the non sequitur. “What has that to do with anything?”
“Lord Sidmouth is quite concerned with the unrest in our country. There are rumblings of revolution.”
“There are always rumblings of revolution,” the Earl snapped. “’T’would be unnatural if England managed a score of years without becoming involved in some ridiculous war.” He took a breath. “Shall we return to the subject at hand? What did Miss Donovan say to you?”
“She pointed out that Lady Dover was murdered during the evening of your daughter’s ball. She wanted to know when we had arrived. Thankfully, Lady Isabella and I arrived late, having attended a function at Carlton House. Miss Donovan feels the need to verify this.” He waved his hand in a languid manner. “As it is the truth, I believe Miss Donovan will be satisfied that I didn’t sneak out of your daughter’s ball to dispatch Lady Dover.”
Weston said nothing.
“Of course,” Sedwick continued, “I had no reason to murder Lady Dover. The awkwardness over the necklace had nothing to do with me.”
“Yes, well.” Weston’s gaze slid away. “If that is all—”
“I recall that evening very well, you know,” Sedwick cut in easily. “The Prince does tend to overindulge with his dinner courses. The food and wine are excellent, but one’s stomach is always uncomfortably full when one leaves Carlton House.”
Weston stood still, his eyes locked on his son-in-law, wary. He might not know why Sedwick was sharing this particular memory, but he seemed to understand that there would be a point.
“When we arrived at Lady Frances’s, we paid our respects to our hostess and her husband,” Sedwick said. “Afterward, I thought to step out in the gardens to walk a bit—the food and wine from Carlton House, you understand. I remember the night was cold and damp, but I wanted to clear my head a bit. I had paused near the arbor to take out my snuffbox . . . when I saw you, my lord.”
Weston said nothing.
“You were not stepping outside. You were walking down the path from the street. It must have been near eleven o’clock, as we’d just arrived.”
Weston appeared frozen. When he finally spoke, he sounded hoarse. “I did not see you.”
“I was in the shadows of the arbor and you appeared quite preoccupied. I had not thought to interrupt your reverie. But I now find myself curious—Miss Donovan’s inquiries into our whereabouts has me wondering about your whereabouts, sir.”
His father-in-law stared at him for several moments. Then he said, “Like you, I had thought to clear my head with a stroll.”
Sedwick pursed his lips. “London is a dangerous place to stroll at night in the fog. ’Tis why I stayed in the gardens.” He paused. “Though London appears to be a dangerous place indoors, as well, given Lady Dover’s shocking end.”
Sedwick allowed the sentence to hang, watching countless emotions flit across Weston’s face. He offered a smile.
“Do not fear, sir. This is a family matter, after all; I shan’t say a word. Miss Donovan appears to be a persistent female, but I am busy with matters of state. Lord Sidmouth and I are working on a bill to suppress the Luddite movement, as well as the more radical elements that have begun forming in this country. There are those in government who are even sympathetic to returning rights to the Catholics. Can you imagine? ’Tis unthinkable.”
Sedwick looked at his father-in-law. “I would hope that Lord Sidmouth and I have your support.”
Weston’s eyes sparked briefly with rage. “I don’t suppose you would listen to me if I told you that I did not murder Cordelia?”
“If you did or did not, it has nothing to do with me, sir. I am simply a civil servant. My concern is for England’s survival. Do we understand each other?”
Weston’s lips twisted as he met his son-in-law’s implacable gaze. “Yes, I believe we do.”
42
Lord Reginald Shipley was an avid sport enthusiast. When he was in London, he could often be found at cricket and tennis matches, cockfighting pits, or boxing rings. On Tuesday morning, Alec located His Lordship at a fencing academy in Soho, where Shipley was engaged in a vigorous match. He and his opponent seemed to dance back and forth, their skinny foils glinting in the sunshine that poured through the high Palladian windows that lined one wall.
Once the match was finished, Shipley bowed to his opponent, tucked his sword under his arm, and came jogging toward Alec with a jovial greeting. “Sutty!”
Shipley was a man of medium height and build. His round face, surrounded by golden curls, remained as cherubic as it had been when they’d attended Eton together.
“Ship,” Alec returned with a smile. While he hadn’t shared his friend’s mad passion for all things sport, he’d liked him well enough to stay in touch, and whenever Alec ventured to Town, they’d often met at one of their clubs to share dinner and a bottle of port.
Alec said, “Excellent form, by the way.”
“Thank you.” Shipley used his sleeve to wipe the sweat from his brow. “Do you want to give it a go?”
“Not today, thank you. I came to inquire whether you dined at Carlton House last Monday evening.”
“Last Monday, you say?” He frowned as he thought it over. “I believe so. Prinny has been out of sorts since his falling out with Brummell, you know. He’s trying to keep up his spirits by throwing lavish dinner parties.”
Alec couldn’t remember a time when the royal hadn’t enjoyed lavish dinner parties, but decided not to say anything against the increasingly corpulent Prince Regent. “It was the night of Lady Dover’s murder.”
“Good God, that is madness, eh?” Shipley shook his head. “A Lady! London’s cutthroats will murder us in our beds if we’re not careful. I have now required my butler to carry a blunderbuss in the evenings.” He regarded Alec steadily. “I heard that you’ve come under suspicion for the woman’s killing, Sutty. ’Tis absurd.”
“Thank you for that. Not everyone agrees with you.”
“I know that the House of Lords will be convening in a week to discuss the matter. They won’t charge you. Never fret about that, old boy!”
“Why? Because they know I’m innocent?”