Weston lifted his shoulders. “It might not have been that easy. Lord Dover’s cheeseparing ways are well-known. He could have fought me for it. It would be mortifying to be forced to petition the courts, another humiliation against my family.” He shrugged. “I decided to make use of the opportunity. It seemed like the best course of action.”
“So you took the necklace from around your dead mistress’s neck. Sure, how can anyone fault you for that?”
“Damn you, I didn’t know what else to do!” Weston glared at her. “Cordelia was already dead. It wasn’t as though I could revive her. Yes, I took the necklace, but I bloody well didn’t murder her. She was dead when I got there!”
Kendra thought about the door that had been open in the back of the townhouse. “Did you see anything or hear anybody?”
Weston set the empty glass on his desk and wearily rubbed his palms across his face. “No, I don’t think so.”
Sam spoke up. “Why’d you pawn your family’s necklace, sir? After all that trouble, you were ready to let it go.”
Weston hesitated, then gave a low, bitter laugh. “I had the necklace, but it occurred to me that it could not be seen again without implicating me in Cordelia’s murder. Everyone in town knew Cordelia had it. My wife couldn’t very well be seen in public with it around her neck, now could she? Not without questions.”
“You could have locked it in a safe,” Sam said with a puzzled frown.
“Never to be seen again? It’s my family’s necklace. My wife, my daughters have the right to wear it in public.”
“You pawned it to put the necklace back into circulation,” Alec guessed, staring at the other man with narrowed eyes. “You could then buy it back and tell everyone that the murderer had obviously pawned the necklace. Don’t you think Blackwood would have recognized you when you came in for it?”
“I planned to send my son to purchase it, when the time was right.”
“We’ll need an official statement from you—in writing,” Kendra said. She had no idea what the procedure was in this era, but she didn’t think the extra precaution would hurt.
“Why? I told you, I didn’t murder her!”
“The House of Lords will still convene on Monday. A written statement from you that explains you were the one that Lady Dover was to meet will confirm what Alec—Lord Sutcliffe—has been saying, that he had no plans to meet her that night.”
Weston hesitated, clearly not liking the idea of putting into writing something that might incriminate him. But then he heaved a sigh and fished out some sheets of foolscap. It took him ten minutes of dipping quill in ink to scratch out his timeline on the night of Lady Dover’s death. Then he sanded the paper, folded it, and handed it over to Kendra.
Meeting her gaze, his eyes burned with emotions: anger, guilt, remorse. “I swear to you, I did not kill her. I loved her.”
Kendra said gently, “I believe you.”
54
Once they were settled back into the carriage and barreling back toward the Duke’s residence, Alec eyed Kendra curiously. “Do you really believe him?”
She thought about it, then said, “It’s certainly plausible. It would explain why the murderer arrived at the front door but left by the back—Weston was already knocking at the front door.”
Sam nodded. “I suppose we need ter put Mr. Roberts name back on the list of suspects, then. He was only taken off because he’d have no reason ter take the necklace.”
But why had the murderer left the necklace? Kendra tried to imagine the evening: the rush of adrenaline and rage; the shocking violence; the madness, plain in the wielding of the stiletto to gouge Lady Dover’s face. And afterward . . . what? Panic? Euphoria?
“I think we can still eliminate Roberts,” she said slowly.
Sam regarded her curiously. “Why?”
“Because I have a new theory,” she said, just as the carriage came to a stop outside the Duke’s mansion. She hesitated, debating whether she should just tell them now or review her notes first. “I don’t mean to sound mysterious, but it’s something that only just occurred to me. If you don’t mind, I’d like a little time to review my notes before I present it to you. Give me an hour.”
Outside, the coachman had hopped off his seat and was coming around to unfold the steps and open the door. Aldridge smiled. “You sound like you are preparing to discuss a new scientific theory before the Royal Society.”
“It’s a little like that.” Especially when you know you’ll encounter some resistance, she added silently.
“Very well, Miss Donovan. One hour. I’m certain we can occupy our time until then.”
They climbed down from the carriage.
Alec laid a detaining hand on Kendra’s arm, sending a jolt of awareness through her, a reminder of the intimacy they’d shared the previous night. If he had similar thoughts, though, he kept them concealed.
“Do you really believe you know who murdered Cordelia?” he asked.
She hesitated. “Not exactly. I’m narrowing it down, though.”
“Oh?”
“Now there are two.”
But which two?
At the moment, the killer was still just a misty figure. But that figure was emerging, if slowly, as she considered the two personalities. Again, she thought of the red-hazed rage that had compelled the murder to thrust the blade into Lady Dover forty-three times. In her mind, she envisioned the moment, the surprise on Lady Dover’s face when the first blow was struck. Then shock, falling back on the sofa, bringing up her arms to protect herself even as she felt her life slip away.
After sanity returned, the killer had hacked away at Lady Dover’s face, destroying her beauty with brutally cold calculation. An impulse, yes, but also a message to be sent. A conversation was coming back to her . . .
A small knock interrupted her focus and Harding opened the door. He regarded her with his solemn, slightly disapproving face. “A . . . person is asking to see you, Miss.”
“A person?”
“A young person. I believe he said his name was Snake.”
Kendra felt a spurt of electricity zip down her spine. “Thank you. Show him up, please.”
The butler cleared his throat. “Ah. As to that, he is requesting your presence in the park, Miss. He says that he’s found what you want, and he wants his . . . bread.” This was said with a curl to the lips.
“He means money.”
“I’m aware of that, Miss. Lord Sutcliffe departed for a ride, but His Grace and Mr. Kelly are in the morning room. Shall I inform him of this young person’s demand?”
“I can handle it.” She pushed past the butler, but paused just outside the room. “Can you get some money for the kid? And some real bread, too? He looks like he could use both.”
Harding frowned uncertainly. “Molly ought to accompany you.”
But Kendra ignored him, racing to the stairs.
Outside, she saw Snake hovering near the entrance to the park. She darted across the wide street, seeing in her peripheral vision a sporty red phaeton being pulled around the corner by a pair of matching bays. Then she was on the other side of the street, her gaze locking on the small tow-headed child that Snake was grasping by the shoulder.