MURDER IN BELGRAVE SQUARE

A 1920s cozy mystery

A Tommy & Evelyn Christie Mystery - Book 4

CATHERINE COLES

Cast of Characters

Main Characters

Tommy Christie – The 7th Earl of Northmoor, former police officer

Evelyn Christie – Policewoman during the Great War, Tommy’s wife

The Family

Lady Emily Christie – Tommy’s great aunt

Lady Victoria Bernard – Tommy’s aunt

Elise Bernard – Lady Victoria’s eldest daughter

Madeleine Bernard – Lady Victoria’s younger daughter

The Guests

Frederick Ryder – The 9th Earl of Chesden and an old family friend

Sarah Ryder – His wife

Alexander Ryder – The Earl’s eldest son

David Ryder – The Earl’s younger son

Hugh Norton-Cavendish – Alexander & David’s school friend

The Staff

Wilfred Malton - The butler

Phyllis Chapman - The housekeeper

Mary O’Connell - The cook

Walter Davies - Tommy’s valet

Frank Douglas - First Footman

Arthur Brown - Second Footman

Gladys Ferriby - Lady Emily’s lady’s maid

Doris - Evelyn’s maid

Alice Morrison – wet nurse

Ada Burrows – nurse maid

Others

Georges Dubois – Madeleine’s beau

Detective Chief Inspector Price – detective in charge of investigating the murder

Detective Sergeant Harrington – junior detective

Herbert Michaels – family doctor

Chapter One

Belgrave Square, London – April 1922

“The newspaper says the Majestic leaves from Southampton next month,” Tommy commented nonchalantly.

“If you want to take a holiday and sail to New York, why don’t you just say so?” Evelyn smiled at her husband of eight years.

Tall and broad shouldered, with blond hair, he was a jolly decent looking fellow even if she said so herself. When they married immediately before the commencement of the war, Tommy worked for the North Yorkshire police. Back then he had been plain old Thomas Christie. Now, thanks of a combination of military conflicts, Spanish flu, and murderous relatives, he was Lord Northmoor.

Inheriting a title and a grand home hadn’t changed Tommy one bit. He would do almost anything to make her happy and rarely made her question whether he adored her as much now as he undoubtedly had the day they married.

“I would if I thought you would actually accompany me on such a trip. I don’t imagine they take animals on board.” He looked pointedly at the dog bed in the corner of their bedroom.

Nancy, her beloved Gordon Setter, lay on a thick plaid blanket along with a puppy from her litter earlier that year curled up next to her snoring softly. Davey, the puppy Tommy had bought for her birthday the previous summer, was now a young adult was at home in Yorkshire. He was a mischievous animal with a penchant for stealing items of clothing and making a mad dash for it across the manor house’s expansive gardens. Evelyn’s mother was looking after him alongside her own pack of dogs.

“What’s in New York that we can’t get in Hessleham?” she asked, only half joking.

Tommy looked at her over the top of the newspaper. “Where is your sense of adventure, darling?”

“Thomas Christie!” she exclaimed. “I don’t know how you can say such a thing after the puzzles we’ve been involved with.”

“Puzzles?” Tommy folded his paper and looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “Those were murders. And cold-blooded murders at that. Danger isn’t at all the same thing as adventures.”

“Whatever you want to call it, I’ve had enough over the last year. All I want is a nice, quiet life free from drama.”

He chuckled. “And your solution is to come to London at the start of the Season? Don’t you remember what that was like when you were a debutante?”

Evelyn grimaced. It was about as peaceful as Petticoat Lane Market. She had not enjoyed being paraded about at dinners, parties, and other social events in the hope some man would find her so enchanting he would propose.

“It was awful. I couldn’t wait to return home to Hessleham to carry on helping my mother with the dogs. I found them much easier to deal with than people.”

“I think you’d still rather spend your time with your dogs than most humans,” Tommy observed.

“All humans are not equal, my dear.” Evelyn got up from the seat in front of the mirror where she’d been putting the last touches to her makeup for the evening. “You, for example, are a quite splendid specimen.”

He reached up and pulled her down to sit on his lap. “I can remember many times when you didn’t think I’m as marvellous as you do now.”

Evelyn chuckled. “I don’t think there are many women who would be enamoured of a man who is attempting to arrest them.”

Tommy shrugged. “You were, so far as I could see, breaking and entering in a residential property. That was, and still is, a crime.”

She smiled at their humble beginnings. On the night in question, Evelyn and her sister, Milly, had returned home from an evening at the pictures. Their mother, so busy with one of her labouring bitches, had forgotten her daughters were not home and had locked them out.

Evelyn had helped Milly climb through an upstairs window and was preparing to do so herself when Tommy had blasted a shrill note on his whistle. It was still a complete mystery to her how she hadn’t toppled from the ladder into the flowerbed below.

“I’m still amazed you thought arresting a girl was the way to win her heart.”

He grinned. “It worked though, didn’t it?”

As she snuggled in his arms, one of her very favourite places in the world, she couldn’t argue. Evelyn reached up and put a hand on his cheek. “I’ve never been happier.”

Of course, there was one thing that would make both of them feel even luckier. Some months ago, after solving their last murder, they had both agreed that talking about their childlessness only made it more painful.

In the past few months, Evelyn’s sister had recently given birth to twin girls—Leonora and Eleanor, Nancy had ten puppies, and their dear friends Teddy and Isolde Mainwaring had married and were expecting their first child in the summer.

Tommy bent his head and kissed Evelyn. The familiar warmth spread through her belly, and she wished everything in life was as uncomplicated as the love she felt for her husband.

“Much as I wish we could stay here like this for the rest of the evening,” he said. “I think if we don’t go down for dinner soon, my aunt will send a search party.”

They had arrived in London earlier that day and briefly met Tommy’s Aunt Victoria and her daughters, Elise and Madeleine.

A sharp rap on the door sounded, and Evelyn pushed herself up from Tommy’s knee and touched up her lipstick. She patted her black hair, even though it still looked as perfect as it had when Doris had finished styling it earlier.

“Come in!” Tommy called.

“Would you like me to sit with Nancy and Mary now?” Doris, Evelyn’s maid asked.

“Your timing is excellent,” Evelyn replied. “Lord Northmoor and I are ready to go down for dinner. Thank you.”

Doris had worked for Evelyn since she had married Tommy. The maid had been Evelyn’s constant companion through the war years. From the early months when they had all believed the war would be over quickly, to the last months when Tommy was missing, somewhere in France, to when he returned to Hessleham injured.

They maintained the expected professional relationship in public, but privately were much less formal. Doris had been with Evelyn through the darkest times of her life and would always be closer to her than an ordinary employee as a result.

Tommy put out an arm. “Lady Northmoor.”

She looped her arm through his. “Lord Northmoor.”

He always seemed to know when she needed a little extra support and his cool reassurance.

Evelyn took one last glance at the puppy fast asleep beside its mother and wished she could stay and watch over her instead of Doris. Sometimes being dutiful was much harder than she had ever imagined.

***

Tommy looked at his wife as they descended the stairs. “I think I forgot to tell you how exquisite you look this evening.”

They were not simply empty words. Doris had piled Evelyn’s very dark hair at the back of her head in intricate waves. A dress of a colour he guessed had a fancy name that Evelyn had told him, but he’d promptly forgotten encased her petite form. All he knew was that it was the exact same yellow as the dahlias the gardener grew at Hessleham Hall.

She smiled up at him, but he recognised it for the empty gesture it was. Evelyn was struggling to maintain her usual cheerful nature. He hoped some time away from home would do her some good. Perhaps being away from her sister and Isolde, both of whom had what Evelyn so desperately wanted, would help.

“You would say that if I had just returned from a particularly blustery walk along the seafront with the dogs,”

“I expect I would say something like, you looked charming with your rosy cheeks and windswept hair. That’s not quite the same as exquisite.”

Evelyn patted his hand but did not reply. He wished he had the right words to say to comfort her.

Apparently six months was not a particularly long time to wait to be blessed with a child. His friend, the village doctor, Teddy Mainwaring, had reassured him of that. However, that was of very little consolation to Evelyn, given Teddy and Isolde had conceived a child quickly. So swiftly, in fact, that their wedding was a very rushed affair given Isolde was already carrying their baby.

They reached the drawing room, and he opened the door for Evelyn.

“At last,” Aunt Em said from her seat on the sofa next to the fire. “I thought you had abandoned me, and I was to eat alone this evening.”

Tommy looked at the clock on the mantlepiece. “Are we so very late, Aunt Em?”

“It’s after seven,” she admonished. “Do you young people require a gong to let you know the time?”

“Shall we have a drink?” he said briskly.

His great-aunt was usually forthright, and a well-known plain speaker, but she seemed particularly edgy that evening.

“Is there something wrong?” Evelyn asked, sitting next to Em.

“I don’t suppose it’s anything a gin and tonic will not fix.” Em nodded at Malton, the butler.

“My Lady. Lord Northmoor, Lady Northmoor, will you both take a drink?”

“Nothing for me, thank you.” Tommy turned to Evelyn. “My dear?”

“I will join Lady Emily in a gin and tonic please, Malton.”

He turned to the drink cabinet and poured their drinks. As was his way, Malton unobtrusively placed a small table near Emily and Evelyn and placed their drinks on its smooth surface.

“I understand our guests arrived this afternoon?”

“That is correct, Aunt Em.” Tommy stood near the fire facing his aunt and wife. “You remember Lord Chesden, I am sure?”

“Indeed.” Aunt Em took a sip of her drink. “I believe he was a friend of Charles’.”

Charles was the eldest child of Emily’s brother, Edward. “That is correct. He is here with his wife, Sarah, and their sons Alexander and David.”

“They also asked if an old school chum of theirs could stay too. A Hugh Norton-Cavendish.”

“Surely they are no longer schoolboys?” Aunt Em raised an eyebrow in surprise. “I had believed Lord Chesden’s sons to be in their twenties.”

“Indeed, they are,” Tommy agreed. “However, Hugh was keen to stay with friends. Apparently, his family is away on the continent, and his father didn’t want to open up their London house for just Hugh.”

“I imagine that is a euphemism for the Norton-Cavendish’s cannot afford to stretch their finances,” Aunt Em suggested tartly as she took a sip of her gin and tonic.

“I’m sure…” Evelyn began.

“No.” Tommy grimaced. “I’m afraid Aunt Em is quite correct. The word is that Harold Norton-Cavendish likes the horses a little too much. I imagine they have sent poor Hugh out to find himself a rich young wife to save his family’s fortunes.”

“How dreadful,” Evelyn murmured.

“Scandalous,” Em agreed, finishing her drink. “I think I shall have another, Malton.”

“Of course, My Lady.” Malton looked to Evelyn. “Lady Northmoor?”

“Not for me, I have barely touched this one.”

The door opened, and Victoria Bernard entered. Her fair hair, a feature of the Christie family, was still more blonde than grey and despite being in her late fifties she was still a very attractive woman.

Victoria had left Hessleham Hall as a young woman to run away to France and marry a penniless painter. It was said her husband, Louis, had ruined the reputation of more than one young lady before he met Victoria and persuaded her to elope with him. Her father, then Lord Northmoor, had been so furious with his only daughter he had disowned her, and they had never spoken again.

When Victoria had written to Tommy asking if she and her daughters may stay in the family’s London house, he had not hesitated. Aunt Em had spoken fondly of her niece, and he was certain it was she who had persuaded Victoria to seek the help of her family.

“The girls will be down soon.” Victoria took a seat opposite Em and Evelyn. “Madeleine’s maid tells me she’s had some problem with her gown. You know how young girls are. They want everything to be just so. Particularly when there are young men in attendance.”

“I understand from Lord Northmoor that one of Lord Chesden’s sons is fond of Madeleine?”

Victoria beamed. “She hasn’t yet been presented at court, and she has already made a favourable impression on one of the oldest and most respected families in the country. This is the very reason I brought Elise and Madeleine over to England.”

“Is Elise rather cross that she is to be left out?” Aunt Em wondered.

“Elise is too old to be presented.” Victoria looked at her aunt through narrowed eyes. “She understands that.”

Although Victoria had asked for somewhere to stay, she had not asked for anything else. She had received the legacy left to her by her brother, Charles. Tommy rather thought the reason only one of his aunt’s daughters was enjoying a London Season was because her inheritance would only cover the expenses for one child.

It was probably too late for him to offer to pay for Elise to have the same opportunities as her sister. He would talk to Evelyn later and see what her thoughts were on the matter. She would probably have a much better idea of how these things worked than he did.

The drawing-room door suddenly burst open with a loud crash. A young man scanned the area, then looked behind him before approaching Victoria.

“Where is she?” he asked in rapid French.

Victoria replied so quickly that Tommy’s rudimentary grasp of French wasn’t able to translate and understand her response.

Evelyn got to her feet and stood next to Tommy. “I apologise. I didn’t catch your name. May I introduce my husband, Lord Northmoor? He and Madeleine Bernard, who I believe you are looking for, are cousins.”

She spoke careful French in quiet, reassuring tones. Tommy admired the way his wife took charge of a volatile situation with gentle authority.

“Georges Dubois…”

“My Lady,” Malton inserted. “You should address Lady Northmoor as ‘My Lady’.”

Tommy stepped forward and extended his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Malton.” Evelyn looked at the butler. “Can you please see that another place is set for dinner?”

His expression was doubtful, but he would never express any misgivings he might hold. “Certainly, My Lady.”

Georges glanced at Tommy and then at his own clothes. “I do not think…”

“Nonsense,” Tommy said firmly. “You have travelled all the way from France to see Madeleine. Of course you must eat with us. Now, I am sure you would like a drink?”

He drew Georges over to the cabinet as Malton left the room.

“Take that look off your face, dear,” Aunt Em said. “I have told you many times in my letters that Tommy and Evelyn are very decent people.”

“But Lord Chesden,” Victoria wailed. “What will he think?”

“He will think whatever we tell him,” Em said imperiously.

Tommy grinned as he poured a generous measure of brandy for himself and another for Georges.

“Which is?” Victoria demanded.

“Georges is a young man hopelessly infatuated with Madeleine, and we, as polite members of society, are honour bound to give the young man a place to stay given he has travelled so far.”

“But to sit at the table and eat dinner with us?”

Georges gulped down his drink. “I will not eat with the fine English ladies and gentlemen.”

“I insist,” Tommy said.

The door opened again, and Elise and Madeleine entered.

“Georges!” she cried.

“My darling,” he responded, holding out his arms to her.

Madeleine looked at her mother, then back to Georges. “Come with me. You must wait in the kitchen.”

Elise giggled. “Oh dear. What will Alexander Ryder think of this?”

Madeleine beckoned Georges to follow her. As she opened the door, Lord Chesden walked through, his cane tapping on the floor with each step.

“Who do we have here?” he asked in his booming voice.

“Temporary London staff,” Aunt Em said in a bored voice. “They don’t know one floor of the house from another.”

“Why is young Madeleine showing him where to go?” Frederick Ryder asked as he shook his head. “What a peculiar setup you have here, Northmoor.”

“We pride ourselves on adapting to all situations.” Evelyn got to her feet. “Do you take brandy before dinner?”

Lord Chesden sat down heavily on a chair near the door. “I blame the war. One could get decent help before it. A countess shouldn’t be serving her guests pre-dinner drinks. It’s simply not the done thing.”

Evelyn poured a brandy and took it over. “I think you’ll find us a very modern couple. I hope that doesn’t shock you too much, Lord Chesden.”

“I suppose one has to adjust to modern times,” he said doubtfully.

Privately Tommy thought his wife serving Lord Chesden a drink was much less impolite than the fact the man’s wife and sons had not yet arrived downstairs. The older man was too similar to his now deceased Uncle Charles for Tommy’s liking.

“Not quite the excitement you were expecting,” Aunt Em said to Evelyn with a devilish smile.

“No,” Evelyn agreed. “Intrigue rather seems to follow us about.”

***

Weariness surrounded Evelyn like a heavy cloak. She couldn’t remember a time she had last felt so completely exhausted. Dinner was a trial. Frederick Ryder was hard work. He dominated conversation—whether he was speaking to someone next to him or at the other end of the table.

Before she knew it, they would do it all over again at breakfast.

“You look done in,” Tommy whispered, taking her hand. “Let’s excuse ourselves and go to bed.”

“Can we?” She looked at their guests.

“It’s my house, so I say yes.”

It wasn’t very often that Tommy pulled his ‘Lord of the manor’ act as Evelyn called it. Usually, he downplayed his title and the corresponding benefits it came with. He hated to think people treated differently simply because of the family he was born into.

“We’re had a terribly long day,” Tommy said to their guests. “Lady Northmoor and I are ready to retire. The travelling has exhausted us.”

Aunt Em got to her feet with surprising speed for a lady her age. “I shall walk upstairs with you.”

“This is London!” Fred Ryder barked. “No one goes to sleep at this early hour.”

“We do,” Tommy said firmly.

“Your behaviour is very extraordinary.”

“I’m certain it seems so to you,” Tommy agreed pleasantly. “Good evening.”

He opened the door for his aunt.

Fred Ryder’s strident voice followed them. “I do hope someone has remembered to tell your cook I like my toast done extremely lightly. I can’t abide toast that is too dark.”

“Of course, Lord Chesden.” Evelyn inclined her head before she hurried from the room.

“What an obnoxious man,” Aunt Em said, as Tommy closed the door firmly behind them.

“You said he was an old family friend,” Tommy protested. “Perhaps I would not have agreed to his visit if you hadn’t told me that.”

“And so he is,” Aunt Em agreed. “Well, that is to say, his family and our family have been friends for generations. My brother, Edward, and Fred’s father were extremely close. I think Charles and Fred are cut from the same cloth, which probably explains their friendship.”

Evelyn sighed. “I should speak to Mrs O’Connell about Lord Chesden’s toast preferences. If we get it wrong, he’s the type of man to tell everyone he meets that our hospitality is not up to scratch.”

“I expect he will do that, anyway.” Tommy stopped walking as they reached the foot of the stairs. “We have left him, and his family, with only Victoria for company.”

Em frowned. “Where did the girls go? They seemed to disappear quickly after dinner.”

“I believe Madeleine said she had invites to respond to,” Evelyn said. “And Elise said something about a headache.”

“She excused herself not long after that fellow Norton-Cavendish.” Tommy caught hold of Evelyn’s arm. “I say, do you think there might be something going on between those two?”

Evelyn thought about it for a moment. “I didn’t think they had met each other before this evening.”

“As if that stops young people these days.” Em scoffed. “Certainly your investigations in the past have shown that very few people seem to be satisfied with their spouse these days.”

“Sadly, that seems to be true.” Tommy looked at Evelyn. “Why don’t you give Doris the message about Chesden’s toast to pass on to Cook?”

“That’s a fine idea,” Evelyn said brightly. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Because you’re jolly tired and practically asleep on your feet. Shall I carry you up?”

Evelyn was almost certain he was joking, but sometimes it was very hard to tell with Tommy. “You will scandalise your aunt talking like that!”

“It takes an awful lot more than a husband carrying his wife up some stairs to scandalise me,” Em said with a sly grin. “Now whether you are walking or being carried, may we get moving?”

Tommy stood to his aunt’s right and held out his arm for her to use for support as she climbed the stairs, her left hand resting on the bannister. Evelyn made a note to speak to Em about her hips when they were alone. She wouldn’t embarrass Em by speaking of her infirmities in front of Tommy.

They saw Em to her room and then went to their own suite. Doris was sitting by the fire, the book she had been reading in her lap. Her mouth was slightly open and soft snores filled the room.

Tommy snapped the door shut with a sharp click. Doris startled and jumped to her feet. “Goodness, My Lady, I wasn’t expecting you back so soon. I closed my eyes for only a minute.”

“Doris, we’ve all had a long day. I’m hardly going to reprimand you for taking a nap when exhaustion is the very reason we are retiring early ourselves.”

Tommy went through to his own room so his valet could help him get ready for bed. Doris helped Evelyn out of her dress. Mary moved over to sniff Evelyn’s toes. She bent down and picked the puppy up. “Have you been a good girl for Doris?”

Doris smiled indulgently. She was quite used to hearing her mistress talk to her dogs as though they were human.

“She has been a delight,” Doris confirmed. “Perhaps I should take her out one last time?”

“If you don’t mind, that is a good idea.”

Before Doris left the room, Evelyn passed on the message about Lord Chesden’s requirements for his toast in the morning.

Evelyn finished getting ready for bed, and Tommy joined her. He patted Nancy’s head. “Where’s Mary?”

“Doris has taken her out,” Evelyn said. “She should be back at any moment.”

Running footsteps sounded in the hall. “That can’t be her.”

Frantic knocking on their door brought Nancy to the foot of the bed. Her tail swished from side to side, letting Evelyn know that whoever was outside was someone she knew.

Tommy walked over to the door and opened it. “Oh, Lord Northmoor!”

“Doris, what on earth is the matter?”

“I took Mary outside…” Doris panted, then looked at Evelyn in horror. “I’ve left the puppy in the courtyard.”

Evelyn got out of bed and pulled her wrap around her. “You look quite ill. What happened outside?”

“There’s a man on the kitchen step.” Doris shook her head in dismay. “My Lady, I think he’s dead.”

Chapter Two

“Is this man inside or outside the house?” Tommy asked calmly.

“Outside, My Lord, he fell to the side when I opened the door.”

“And Mary?”

“She scampered off to do her business, and I’m afraid I screamed rather loudly and ran inside. I’m so sorry I forgot all about the puppy.”

“There’s only one thing for it.” Tommy thrust his feet into his bedroom slippers and pulled on his robe. “I shall have to check on this fellow and call the police.”

Evelyn opened a drawer and took out a pair of socks. She quickly put them on, then put her feet into her boots. “I’ll come with you.”

He nodded. “I knew you would.”

Tommy led the way back down the corridor to the stairs. Evelyn put an arm around Doris’s shoulders. Her maid was shaking, her pallor paler than Evelyn’s nightgown.

When they reached the kitchen, Evelyn pulled out a chair. “Sit here now. When I return, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

Doris did as she was bid. She looked at Evelyn but said nothing. Her maid was obviously suffering from shock.

“That door?” Tommy asked, his voice low and reassuring, as he indicated a door at the end of a passageway just outside the kitchen.

Doris nodded. Her hands trembled where she rested them on the table. She looked down at them, then folded them in her lap. Tears shone in her eyes.

“We’ll be as quick as we can,” Evelyn told her and followed Tommy toward the door.

He pulled it open to reveal a man laid across the step. His feet rested on the ground as though he had sat for a rest before keeling over. Tommy stepped over him and stood in the courtyard. Mary ran over to him and jumped excitedly at his pyjama bottoms. She then ran to the dead man and sniffed at something on the floor, her tail wagging with excitement.

Picking her up, he carefully leaned across the victim to transfer the dog into Evelyn’s arms.

“Do you recognise him?”

Tommy put one knee on the floor and peered into the victim’s face. “It’s Georges.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m afraid so,” he said. “There’s an obvious stab wound to his chest.”

“Is he dead?”

“Most definitely.” Tommy stood up and stepped back. “Are there any candles in the kitchen? There’s something behind his legs and I can’t see what it is. It’s too dark.”

She went into the kitchen and gave a wriggling Mary to Doris. Turning on the stove, she filled the kettle and put it over the heat to boil.

Opening drawers, she quickly found what she was looking for. She put a candle into a holder and lit it. With a hand around the flame so it didn’t blow out, she took it to Tommy.

“What is it?”

“It appears to be a basket. I think there’s a kitten inside. Can’t you hear that noise?”

She shook her head. He reached out, took hold of the edge of the wicker container, and pulled it towards him.

“Tommy, you shouldn’t touch anything before the police arrive!” Evelyn exclaimed as the carrier came into view. She put a hand over her mouth. “Oh, my goodness.”

Wrapped in a shawl was a baby.

He looked up at her, thoughts running around in his head so fast they bumped into each other. “I was expecting a cat.”

Evelyn knelt beside the basket and lifted the infant out. The crocheted shawl appeared to be the only thing covering the child’s naked body. “I think she’s a newborn.”

Tears sprang to Evelyn’s eyes as she cradled the baby in her arms. Tommy couldn’t understand who would do such a thing? Or why? Was it Georges’ baby? Had someone placed the baby next to the doorstep before or after his murder?

He put his arm around Evelyn’s shoulders and drew her back inside the house. “Let’s get both of you warm. I shall telephone for the police.”

Doris jumped to her feet as Tommy and Evelyn walked back into the kitchen.

“Oh, My Lady! What on earth is going on this evening?” Doris put Mary on the floor and lifted the whistling kettle from the stove. “I will make the tea. You should take the baby and sit in the drawing room. After I have brought a tray through, I will re-light the fire.”

“You’ve had a terrible shock,” Evelyn rested a hand on Doris’ arm. “Are you sure you feel up to it?”

Doris’ smile was wobbly, but she squared her shoulders and nodded at her mistress. “Of course, My Lady. I will see to the tea and the puppy.”

Tommy picked up a heavy blanket resting on the chair next to the fire. A thought occurred to him before he left the kitchen. “Are there still guests in the drawing room?”

“We left Victoria with the entire Ryder family less than an hour ago.” Evelyn tucked the shawl more securely around the infant. “Surely they will still be there?”

“We shall go to the library, Doris. Of course, everyone will know something is amiss when the police arrive. Until then, I would prefer for us to at least attempt to keep what has happened quiet.”

“Of course, My Lord.

Tommy led the way to the library. When Evelyn had settled herself and the infant in the chair nearest to the barely warm fireplace, Tommy secured the cover around them both.

“Who would do such a thing?” Evelyn wondered as she gazed into the face of the baby. He watched as the baby’s bright blue eyes stared right back at his wife.

With a sinking heart, Tommy knew Evelyn wasn’t referring to the murder of Georges. She only had eyes and concern for the child in her arms. As he left the room, Evelyn was whispering words of reassurance to the baby and promises that she herself would take good care of her. Exactly what he feared. The infant would completely capture Evelyn’s soft heart before the police even arrived.

He placed a call to the local police, then went to wake Malton.

The faithful family butler was the most likely person to know if the attic of the house held anything they could use for the baby. Tommy was aware of most things held in storage at Hessleham Hall, but he did not know what their town house in Belgrave Square might hold.

Even as he made plans to make the baby as comfortable as possible during her stay at his house, Tommy couldn’t help but think even that was a big mistake. It would encourage Evelyn to become attached to the child.

Despite the look of pure joy on her face, he should tell the police to find somewhere else for the baby to live as soon as they arrived. If he didn’t, it would only cause more anguish in the future.

***

By the time the police arrived, Evelyn and Mrs Chapman had bathed the baby and they dressed her in clean clothes. As soon as the shops opened in the morning, she vowed to buy the child a completely new wardrobe.

“Go over that again.” Detective Chief Inspector Price demanded in his slightly nasally voice. “I am especially interested in the part where you both thought it would be a good idea to tamper with evidence in what was clearly a murder enquiry.”

“You cannot think the baby has anything to do with the murder of Mr Dubois,” Evelyn protested.

“From what your husband has told us, Lady Northmoor, the basket holding the child was underneath the body of the victim.”

“It's not entirely accurate to say ‘underneath the body’,” Tommy corrected. “Mr Dubois was half sitting, half slumped on the back step, as you have seen. We have not touched him. He is in the exact same position as he was when we found him. The carrier containing the baby was on the floor next to the step. It doesn’t follow that the two things are linked.”

“You say you worked as a detective before the war, Lord Northmoor?”

“I did.”

“Were you particularly successful?”

Evelyn worked to keep her face straight. Too many people assumed Tommy had received benefits because of his title. It often led to him being underestimated.

“Successful enough to know not to jump to conclusions within the first half an hour of an investigation,” Tommy replied smartly. “If he was killed because of something to do with the baby, why was she left? We don’t know if the baby was his, someone else’s, or there because of entirely different circumstances to those which ended in Mr Dubois’ murder.”

“But to answer your original question,” Evelyn added. “My husband did not think it prudent to leave a newborn infant without adequate protection from the elements in our courtyard late at night. If he had, the body of Georges Dubois might not have been the only one you’re investigating.”

“I’ll see to it that the child is transported to the nearest workhouse as soon as I can,” he muttered. The detective looked slightly chastened as he moved over and peered down at the baby sleeping in Evelyn’s arms. “It looks healthy enough.”

“She,” Evelyn said frostily. “Will not be taken to any workhouse.”

“Lady Northmoor?”

“The baby will stay here, with me, until you find her parents.” She stared hard at the man until his cheeks flushed with colour. “Presumably you will make enquiries to determine her parents given you believe the crimes are connected?”

“Perhaps we should put an advertisement in the newspaper, sir?” Detective Sergeant Harrington suggested brightly.

“How would we phrase that?” Price asked scathingly. “Abandoned baby: enquire within. The Northmoors would have every desperate childless couple within miles of central London on their doorstep.”

Evelyn flinched as she gazed at the baby’s face. She lifted a hand and smoothed down the little girl’s downy blonde hair. Was that what she was? So desperate to care for a child she was latching on to this child as though it was her only hope of being a mother? “So that is settled. There will be no more talk of the workhouse.”

“My wife is correct.” Tommy put down the cup of tea he wasn’t drinking and walked over to the sideboard. Lifting the decanter, he poured a measure of brandy into a glass and took a healthy swallow. “Neither of us would allow this baby to be taken to the workhouse when we can care for her ourselves. It is our Christian duty.”

Evelyn raised an eyebrow at Tommy’s unusually pious words. “It will also be my absolute pleasure.”

“Back to the murder.” Price looked at his colleague. “Harrington found part of a bank note in the dead man’s hand. That leads me to believe the motive for this murder is some sort of gambling dispute, or blackmail.”

“How would either of those motives involve this baby?” Evelyn demanded. She might not be the child’s mother, but she would care for, and defend her, as though she was. It was the least she could do while she had care of the precious little mite.

“Maybe the baby was part of the wager.” Price shrugged. “The scrap of paper we found was part of a fifty-pound note.”

“Dubois must have won the gamble.” Tommy drank the rest of his brandy and put the glass down next to the decanter. Evelyn didn’t doubt that he would need more of the amber liquid before the police allowed them to retire for the evening. “What sort of bet would win a fellow money and a baby?”

“A rather odd one, I agree, but who knows what goes on at illegal gambling games.” Price looked around the room, taking in the high ceilings, polished floors, and pictures of unknown ancestors. They go on all over the city. In the backrooms of pubs, warehouses, and even private residences.”

“Let me see if I am following your thought processes correctly.” Tommy moved across the room to stand in front of the detective. “Dubois won a bet. He must have, because he had money torn from his dying grip. For reasons unknown, that wager involved a baby.”

Price cleared his throat. “It does sound rather improbable.”

“Impossible, I would suggest,” Evelyn said. “This baby is only hours old. They had not even bathed her following her birth. Perhaps you would allow us to telephone our family doctor so he can examine the child and confirm what I am telling you?”

“At the moment all we have is theories,” he said pompously. “We will search for any other evidence there may be.”

“You have my permission to search any of the downstairs rooms you please.” Tommy moved over to Evelyn and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You may also speak with my wife’s maid, Doris, who is in the kitchen with our housekeeper and butler. As the other staff rise for the day, you may speak to them.”

“But…My Lord,” Price protested. “It is the middle of the night. You surely don’t intend for us to stay here until morning?”

“If that is not acceptable to you,” Tommy responded. “I will allow my staff to go to bed and ensure they are available to you at such time in the morning as you may return.”

“We must maintain the integrity of the crime scene,” Price replied stiffly. “No one must leave or come into the house until we are satisfied our investigations are complete.”

“Other than our doctor,” Evelyn interjected. “I insist upon that.”

“Who else is in the house now?”

“My Aunt Em, an older lady in her eighties. My Aunt Victoria, who is in her fifties. Her daughters Madeleine and Elise. Family friends, Frederick Ryder, his wife Sarah and their sons Alexander and David. Finally, a school chum of the Ryder boys named Hugh Norton-Cavendish. Of course, we also have a number of staff here too.”

“Are all the guests in bed?” Harrington asked.

“I can’t be sure,” Tommy answered. “They are our guests and as such are not required to retire at the same time on an evening as my wife and I.”

“We will speak to everyone who is awake.” Detective Inspector Price marched to the library door. “It would have been helpful if you had told us before now some of your guests may still be awake.”

“You didn’t ask.” Tommy squeezed Evelyn’s shoulder. “And I didn’t want to interfere. After all, you’re the detective.”

***

“He did rather ask for that.” Evelyn smiled as Tommy re-entered the library after he’d shown the detectives to the drawing room and telephoned for the doctor.

He pulled a face. “It aggravates me that people hear my title and then write me off as a brainless buffoon.”

“Poor darling,” Evelyn consoled. “Whatever are we to do about everything?”

Tommy grinned as he sat in the chair opposite. “What we always do. We shall investigate and solve both crimes. On this occasion, I am particularly keen that we uncover the murderer before the police.”

Evelyn looked down at the baby. “And discover who left this precious baby outside without a stitch of clothing to keep her warm.”

“She will then return to the care of her parents.” Tommy leaned forward. “You must prepare yourself for that eventuality. Please don’t let yourself become so enraptured by her you forget she isn’t yours to keep.”

“Have you looked at her?” she asked. “I mean really looked at her. How could I fail to be completely besotted? She is so perfect.”

“She’s very sweet,” he agreed. “But we will find her parents.”

“Who are not suitable parents,” Evelyn said vehemently. “If they were, they would not have left her on a doorstep.”

“Where is the shawl she was wrapped in?”

“Mrs Chapman is arranging for it to be laundered.”

As soon as Malton was aware there was a baby in the house, he had woken the housekeeper. He was comfortable searching for a bassinet for the infant. As for the other paraphernalia required for a child, that was not something he had any knowledge of.

“I think that is our first clue in searching for the babe’s parents.”

“Can we not think of a name for her?” Evelyn shifted the baby to rest on her opposite arm. “Before you say it, Tommy, I know we can’t keep her. A name would be temporary and just so we don’t have to refer to her as ‘the baby’ all the time.”

“Giving her a name is the very opposite of temporary. It implies a permanence we can’t be certain of.”

Evelyn’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “You think the same as me, don’t you?”

“Do I?” Tommy asked in defeat, for he already knew both her answer and his own.

“If her parents are inadequate, we should keep her.”

Tommy nodded slowly. “If her parents cannot care for her, for whatever reason, we cannot allow her to go into the workhouse.”

He couldn’t bear to look at the exquisite joy on his wife’s face. She would be beyond devastated if the child’s parents could care for her after all.

“What about Perdita?”

“Lost?”

“I’d rather think of her as lost than abandoned.”

“Would you?” he asked with surprise. “If she’s lost, there’s more chance of her parents returning for her.”

“That would be better for her, wouldn’t it? So that is what I shall hope for.”

Malton opened the door. “Dr Michaels, My Lord.”

Tommy got to his feet and crossed the room to greet the doctor. “Thank you for coming so promptly.”

“You mentioned a baby found outside. I got here as quickly as I could.” He reached out his arms toward Evelyn to take the infant.

She stood and passed the child over. It didn’t matter if Dr Michaels was the type of doctor who liked to do his examinations in private, Tommy knew Evelyn would not leave the baby’s side.

“What do you know about the circumstances of her birth?” the doctor asked as he removed the baby’s clothing.

“Nothing, I’m afraid,” Evelyn answered. “Are there police outside the front of the house?”

“Yes, My Lady. They are surely not guarding your house because of this foundling?”

“Unfortunately, a young man was found dead tonight. Perdita…the baby…was nearby.”

“How unpleasant for you all,” he murmured sympathetically. “Might the child belong to him? Or is he not known to you?”

“He knows my cousin,” Tommy said. “We had not met him before this evening. There’s no reason to believe the baby is his, but of course, we do not know him well enough to be certain of anything.”

“I can confirm what you said on the telephone, Lord Northmoor. She is a healthy baby. So far as I can tell, she is of full term. As for when she was born, I can only give you an educated guess.”

“What would you base that supposition on?” Evelyn asked, kneeling on the floor beside the doctor. She caught one of the child’s flailing hands in her own.

One thing was certain, the baby did not like to be undressed. Her screams bounced off the walls of the large room.

The doctor pointed to the exposed umbilical cord. “You see the colour of the stump? Following birth, it darkens as it dries out, and it eventually falls off a week or so later. She’s most likely a couple of hours old, certainly no more than forty-eight hours at the extreme outer limit.”

“That fits with what we know,” Tommy said as he watched Evelyn re-dress Perdita. “We found her naked and wrapped in a shawl. My wife and our housekeeper bathed her and were certain, because of her condition, that the mother did not clean the child following her birth.”

“I take it you will not require me to obtain a place for her at the workhouse?”

“Absolutely not.” Evelyn looked up at him.

“As you can see.” Tommy smiled indulgently at Evelyn. “My wife is very keen to care for the child herself.”

“I see that.” The doctor nodded. “And the little mite already has a name. She is lucky to have been left on your doorstep. Most homes around here would have called for the police and had her removed immediately.”

“The Lord calls on us to care for widows and orphans,” he said a little self-consciously, then looked at the doctor. “I have spent a good deal of time with our village vicar back home. He’s very outspoken on what he believes a person’s obligations are. Especially a person such as me with the means to improve the existence of others.”

John Capes, the man he referred to, was much more than a man of the church. Tommy classed him as a good friend. Although John based many of their discussions around bible principles, Tommy found that most of their conversations had their basis in common sense and moral decency.

He had also helped to give Tommy some measure of peace following his difficulties in coming to terms with the things he had seen and done during the war.

“I’ll arrange for a wet nurse to come over as soon as possible,” Dr Michaels said. “Will you also require a nursemaid? I am certain my wife, or one of her friends, will know someone suitable.”

“That would be extremely kind.” Tommy shook the other man’s hand. “We do have a couple of local staff who may know of someone. I think I can speak for Lady Northmoor as well as myself when I say we would both prefer to rely on your suggestions, given your experience.”

Evelyn lifted the child on to her shoulder and patted her impossibly small back, whispering to her as she did so. Although it had been a shocking night, one thing had not surprised him, and that was that Evelyn had taken to caring for the baby as naturally as everything else she had done since he’d known her.

The doctor left, and he moved over to her side. He wrapped his arms around Evelyn and kissed the top of her head. “I am incredibly proud of you, my darling.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “What for?”

“Nothing, and everything,” he responded. “Mostly just for being you.”

Chapter Three

The door creaked open, and Victoria stood in the entrance to the library with an incredulous look on her face.

“Evelyn! My goodness…”

“Has the detective spoken to you?” Tommy asked.

“He’s taken Lord Chesden off somewhere. He asked the rest of us to stay where we were, but I heard a baby crying and couldn’t resist finding out more.”

“How well did you know Georges Dubois?” Evelyn hoped her abrupt question would surprise Victoria into answering quickly. In her experience, a response given without too much thought was usually honest.

“Georges?” Victoria repeated and looked at Tommy, then back at Evelyn. She visibly gathered herself. The brief delay was long enough to give her time to decide how much she would share and which information she would keep to herself. “We knew Georges when we lived on the continent.”

“He lived near you in France?”

“Why all the questions?” Victoria asked sharply, a note of suspicion in her voice.

“Didn’t the detective say why he was here at the house?” Tommy interjected.

Victoria looked at her nephew. “He didn’t. I presumed there had been a theft or something.”

Evelyn frowned. “Why would that be your first impression?”

Victoria swept a hand around the room. “Houses like these attract the type of characters who would rather indulge in nefarious deeds than find gainful employment.”

Evelyn hated generalisations. Especially when voiced by a woman who hadn’t worked a day in her life. Still, she couldn’t deny that it was a common opinion.

“I insist you tell me what is happening.” Victoria stepped into the room and closed the door behind her. “Are you telling me there hasn’t been a burglary?”

“I’m afraid it’s much more serious than that.” Evelyn sat in the chair next to the now blazing fire.

“Darling…” Tommy warned.

The police would not be pleased if she told Victoria what had happened to Georges. Still, if they had wanted the information to remain confidential until they had spoken to everyone in the drawing room, it was up to them to ensure that happened.

“Georges has been murdered,” Evelyn said bluntly.

“But…” Victoria’s gaze swung wildly to Tommy for confirmation. “But he was here earlier this evening and he was fine. You must be mistaken.”

“Evelyn is telling the truth. We have both seen the body.” Tommy moved over to the sideboard. “Would you like a drink, Aunt Victoria?”

“There is tea, if you would prefer.” Evelyn lifted her own cup and took a sip.

“I don’t want tea.” Victoria shook her head. “Neither do I want sherry or anything else sweet and silly. Give me a measure of brandy, Tommy. And make it a large one.”

Evelyn considered the older woman. She was acting shocked, as was to be expected. Victoria was saying the right things, but there was something missing. It would be normal for a person acquainted with a murder victim to ask what had happened and then make some sort of statement as to his character. Either he was the sort of person for whom murder wasn’t a surprise or he was a pleasant young man, and his death was a terrible tragedy.

“Did you like Georges?”

“What a strange question.” Victoria took the tumbler from Tommy and drank the liquid in one long swallow. “Fill it up, please.”

Tommy lifted an eyebrow in Evelyn’s direction as he walked back to the brandy decanter. Evelyn wasn’t sure if it was because of her questions or the straightforward way Victoria had taken the measure of brandy with no discernible effect. If she herself drank that particular tipple, she coughed as it burned its way down her throat and then settled into a warm puddle in her stomach. She also pulled a face as if the drink was an extremely bitter medicine. If she hadn’t watched Tommy pour the brandy for Victoria, she would’ve believed the glass contained liquid with no more potency than water.

Tommy replenished Victoria’s drink and handed it over. “Tell us about Georges.”

Victoria sighed, tired of being pressed over the dead man. “What do you want to know? He’s just a penniless French boy who had a rather annoying tendency to follow Madeleine around.”

“Aunt Victoria,” Tommy said sternly. “Georges trailed your family all the way to England, and to this house. Now he’s dead. Surely you must see how that will look to the police?”

She sat in the chair opposite Evelyn. “Now you’ve put it like that, I do see. They will jump to the conclusion I’ve done something to that silly boy.”

“Did you?” Evelyn asked bluntly.

“How dare you!” Victoria’s face flushed.

“I’m very tired.” Evelyn looked at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room. “It is almost two in the morning. We left Yorkshire early yesterday morning to travel down to London to host your family. I think I deserve an answer.”

Victoria looked at Tommy. “Are you going to let her talk to me like that?”

“Absolutely,” Tommy said resolutely. “Lady Northmoor has kindly agreed to recommend Madeleine for presentation before the King. We have also gifted your family a substantial sum of money, to supplement the inheritance from your father, to ensure she has an adequate wardrobe. I apologise for my candid words, and have no wish to embarrass you, but I believe we deserve answers.”

“I’m sorry.” Victoria seemed to shrink in her seat. “Please forgive me. The shock has badly affected me.”

Evelyn very much doubted that. More likely the timely reminder from Tommy that Victoria and her daughters were reliant on his good graces for not only a roof over their heads, but also if they wished to maintain even a pretence of decent social standing.

“I’m sure.” Tommy took Victoria’s empty glass, filled it once again, and returned it to her shaking hand. “Now, perhaps, you can provide us some answers before the police take you for questioning?”

She nursed her drink, gazing at it as though it were a precious gem. “What do you want to know?”

“All about Madeleine and Georges. Did you know he would follow her here? Did you kill him? Why was this baby found near his body?”

“Did you pay him to leave England and go back to France?” Evelyn nodded.

“Goodness.” Victoria laughed nervously. “Such a lot of questions.”

Tommy stared at her impassively. “I’m sure there will be more.”

“I did not know Georges would come to England,” Victoria began. “I fervently hoped he would not. Coming back to England was an attempt to prevent Madeleine from making a mistake with a penniless man like I did.”

“Your marriage wasn’t happy?” Evelyn couldn’t imagine being tied to a man who made her unhappy.

“I was desperately in love with Louis. So much so that I ignored my father’s warnings and ran away to be with him. He cut me off financially.” She looked up. Her eyes reflected sadness. “I didn’t understand what that would mean. Not really. I thought I did, but I was a silly girl of eighteen who didn’t realise that passion and desire isn’t at all the same as the lasting love one needs to make a marriage work.”

Personally, Evelyn thought mutual respect went a long way to securing a successful marriage. She tried to recall what Aunt Em had told her about Victoria when Charles died, and the solicitor read his will to the family.

“You were married for many years.” Evelyn had done some rough sums in her head. “I’m sorry it wasn’t all you expected it would be.”

Victoria shrugged and looked back at her drink. “Forty years of being married to a man who never stopped chasing other women despite how old he got, drowning his sorrows in a bottle, and blaming me for being cut off by my father. He thought marrying an earl’s daughter would mean an endless supply of money.”

Forty years of marriage, yet her eldest child was only twenty. Something did not add up. Evelyn wished she could think of some way of finding out, but that couldn’t have anything to do with Georges’ death, could it? She was so tired she could barely form a coherent thought, let alone a sentence.

“Did you kill him?” Tommy asked. “Maybe by accident because you wanted him to leave Madeleine alone?”

Victoria shook her head. “I admit I wanted him out of our lives, but I would never have killed him. I know what it is like to lose a child so I could not…”

The door opened and Detective Inspector Price stared angrily into the room. “What is going on here?”

“Aunt Victoria heard the baby crying,” Tommy said. “She came to see where she’d come from.”

“I suppose you expect me to believe you haven’t been discussing the case?” He shook his head. “Don’t bother answering. Mrs Bernard, I need you to come with me now, please.”

Victoria got to her feet and paused by the side of Evelyn. She looked down at the baby. A loud gasp escaped her lips before she slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Gabrielle,” she mumbled. “Oh, Gabrielle.”

***

Tommy accompanied Evelyn into the drawing room, as requested by the detective. He had positioned a uniformed officer outside the library, and Alexander and David Ryder waited inside that room to be questioned next.

“Where does one smoke around here, Northmoor?” Lord Chesden asked.

“Which room are the police using to question people?” Tommy asked.

“The dining room.” He wrinkled his nose in distaste, then banged his cane on the floor. “I don’t suppose you allow smoking in here?”

“No,” Tommy answered. “And not in front of the ladies. Lady Chesden, have the police spoken to you?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Directly after my husband. Not that I could tell them a thing of any importance.”

“My wife will keep you company while I take your husband off so he can enjoy his cigar.” Tommy walked toward the door. “Let’s go to the ballroom.”

“Terrific,” Lord Chesden answered and followed Tommy.

His cane tapped loudly on the wooden floor in the hallway.

Tommy stopped at the door to the ballroom. “Can I ask Malton to get you a drink? He has a supply in his room.”

“Bit late in the evening now, old man.” The earl gave an embarrassed chuckle. “Shan’t sleep if I drink anymore.”

Tommy waited until they were settled in chairs and Fred was puffing away on a fat, pungent cigar. “I can’t apologise enough. Jolly terrible thing to happen on our doorstep.”

“Not your fault,” Fred replied, then guffawed. “Well, unless you did it, of course. Then it would definitely be your fault.”

“I can assure you it was nothing to do with me,” Tommy said. “Never met the fellow before this evening.”

“What would a French chap be doing in England?”

“Ah, the police told you where he was from. I wondered if they would.”

“Apparently he is known to the Bernard family.” Fred tipped back his head and blew smoke toward the ceiling. “Can’t imagine they have anything to do with this. They’re from a respectable family. Well, on the mother’s side they are.”

“You were friendly with my Uncle Charles, I believe?”

“He was a good man.” Fred seemed to consider his words carefully. “Didn’t know him awfully well. Our fathers were close, though. If things had been different, I would’ve married Victoria.”

“Really?”

“Oh yes,” Fred said confidently. “Our fathers arranged it. Well, actually, I was to marry Anne, but she died as a child. Victoria was the next girl in line and our fathers agreed it would be a suitable match for our families.”

Tommy thought back to the conversation he and Evelyn had just had with Victoria. She had chosen her husband and had not been happy. He couldn’t imagine she would have been any more pleased by a marriage to Fred.

“What happened?”

He rather thought Louis Bernard was what had happened, but best to ask questions and let the older man talk. Who knew what he might find out? Especially after Victoria’s strange reaction to the baby.

“Ran off with that French chap. He was an artist, if you can believe it. Her father was so furious Charles said he stopped her allowance and acted as though she was as dead as Anne.”

“Was Edward angry because Victoria had run away before the arranged marriage, or because of the type of man Louis was?”

“Both I should imagine.” Fred sucked noisily on his cigar. “It was the scandal of the year. And, of course, my father was livid your grandfather didn’t have another daughter for me to marry.”

“How terrible,” Tommy muttered, wondering if Fred’s father was cross because he didn’t get the expected dowry into the family. “How did you feel about it?”

“I hadn’t asked her to marry me. She hadn’t been presented before she left with Louis. I easily found another woman who was suitable. My first wife was from a very prominent family. Not as wealthy as Sarah’s though. Her family has an enormous estate in Ireland, you know.”

“Really?” Tommy did his best to feign interest, but he didn’t care at all who had the biggest estate, the most money, or the fanciest horses. He had always judged a person on how they treated him.

Fred Ryder didn’t seem like a bad man. He was very representative of the men of his era—distrusting of anyone who wasn’t English, and who didn’t adhere to strict social expectations.

“Had a rather decent few years as a single man between my first wife and Sarah.” Fred winked.

Tommy wasn’t sure of a decent response. He didn’t know Fred very well and didn’t talk about conquests, even with men he was friendly with. “How fortunate.”

“I say.” Fred coughed, cleared his throat, then pulled on his cigar again. “Where did that baby your wife have come from? I understood you and Lady Northmoor were childless?”

It was just a word. The other man had meant nothing by it. It was true he and Evelyn didn’t have children yet. Childless seemed like such a permanent condition, and Tommy fought to keep his emotions under control. The excitement he had felt when Evelyn had told him she wanted to start a family with him had gradually faded as, month after month, she had failed to become pregnant.

“The baby was outside with the dead man.”

“Ah, yes.” Fred nodded. “I remember the detective telling me that. But why does your wife have the unfortunate creature in her arms?”

“We couldn’t see the child go to the workhouse.”

Fred frowned and stared uncomprehendingly at Tommy. “Why not? You don’t know where it has come from. Its parents could be paupers.”

“Whoever her parents are, it is not the baby’s fault.”

“Northmoor!” Fred shook his head sadly, as though Tommy had desperately disappointed him. “The child’s mother is probably a common streetwalker.”

“I suppose that is possible,” Tommy conceded.

“And that doesn’t bother you?”

“It would not stop us caring for the child,” Tommy said firmly.

Fred stubbed out his cigar in a plant pot next to his chair and got to his feet. “Frankly, I am outraged.”

“I am sorry you don’t agree with our decision.”

“It’ll cause a terrible scandal.” Fred walked a few steps toward the door, then gave up and flopped back into his chair. “I implore you to think of the young ladies and their reputations.”

“Elise and Madeleine?” Tommy asked doubtfully. “No one would suggest the child belongs to one of them.”

Fred waved a hand dismissively. “Of course not. They are respectable girls. I simply meant that the stain of having a child of uncertain parentage in the house may cause them problems when being presented in society.”

Tommy was glad Fred used a polite way to describe the baby and not the word he was certain hovered on the tip of the other man’s tongue. “Evelyn and I will bear your concerns in mind.”

Fred looked like he would argue the matter further. He assessed Tommy through a fog of smoke. “May I speak plainly with you?”

Their discussions surely couldn’t get much more honest. “Of course. Please go ahead.”

“Victoria wrote to me when she was planning to come back to England. At first, I thought she hoped to rekindle our personal relationship. However, she wanted to know about my sons. Alexander, in particular.”

Of course she did. Victoria had left France in a hurry to get Madeleine away from Georges. There was no better way to make her daughter forget her French beau than to plunge her daughter into the social maelstrom that was the London Season. Why not help the girl along a little by ensuring there were a couple of eligible bachelors in the same house?

“She is interested in a match between Alexander and Madeleine?”

“We both favour such an arrangement.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair. “I’m afraid her father died with no assets. Victoria has nothing but a small legacy from her father. There will be a small dowry that I will provide both girls with when the time comes.”

Fred laughed in genuine amusement. “My sons may be chums with the Norton-Cavendish boy, but I can assure you our family does not suffer with the same financial issues.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Tommy folded one leg over the other. “I hope Madeleine will find a husband who will cherish her for herself and not for family money they may hope she has.”

“What a strange way to think.” Fred shook his head. “Victoria married for love and look where that got her. It is much more satisfactory for marriage to be seen as a business transaction. Female emotions make things so much more difficult than they need to be.”

Poor Lady Chesden.

“What about Elise? She is, after all, the elder sister.”

“Ah, now this is a little awkward.” Fred raised a hand and gave a delicate cough.

Tommy could hardly believe his ears. After the topics they had discussed, why was the man now affecting embarrassment?

“It’s been an evening of revelations,” Tommy said wearily. “You may as well tell me.”

“I saw that young lady in a particularly compromising situation with Norton-Cavendish this evening. Victoria favoured Madeleine for Alexander and after what I saw, I must say that I wholeheartedly agree.”

He had been right when he noticed Elise had left the drawing room, claiming a headache not long after Hugh. Was it now his responsibility to talk to Victoria about the information Fred had divulged? Tommy passed a hand across his tired face. Maybe after he had slept, things would make more sense.

***

Evelyn shifted on the sofa and readjusted the position of the sleeping baby. Sarah Ryder looked over with interest but did not speak.

“I named her Perdita,” Evelyn said to open up the conversation.

“Is that wise?” Sarah looked concerned. “The police said they will find the baby’s parents. If you care for her personally, it will devastate you when she leaves. Best to get a girl in to care for her if you feel a responsibility for her because we found her here.”

“Our doctor has visited and is arranging for both a wet nurse and a nursemaid.”

Sarah looked relieved. “That is very sensible. After all, it would be very difficult to have such a child around when you and Lord Northmoor have your own children.”

“Why?” Evelyn should probably have changed the subject to something less personal, especially because being tired was making her more emotional. Yet she wanted to know what the other woman thought. Sarah’s opinion may well be indicative of popular opinion. What would people think of Evelyn taking in a child found on her doorstep?

“When you have children of your own, you will understand what I mean.” Sarah pleated the skirt of her gown between her fingers. “You can love other children, of course. For example, I am very fond of my nieces and nephews. But there is no love like a mother has for her children. There is nothing I wouldn’t do for my sons.”

Evelyn filed that piece of information away for later. She couldn’t imagine how the death of Georges could possibly have anything to do with any of the Ryder family.

However, she had often thought pieces of a puzzle couldn’t possibly be linked to each other—right until the point they made sense. Experience had taught her that having all the pieces figuratively laid out in front of her was imperative.

She thought back to Victoria’s face when she had looked at the baby. There was something very genuine in her reaction that had not been there when she had spoken about Georges’ death.

Who was Gabrielle?

“The best outcome would be for Perdita’s parents to be located and for the family to be reunited.” Evelyn said the words and wished she meant them wholeheartedly. Of course, it would be best for the baby to be cared for by her mother. But if that were not possible, for whatever reason, she was more than ready to step in and take on a maternal role.

“Indeed.” Sarah smoothed out the creases she’d made in her dress. “Did you know the poor young man who was murdered?”

Evelyn recognised the woman’s casual question for what it was. Sarah Ryder was trying to find out what Evelyn knew. She didn’t know what the police had said. Had they told Sarah that Georges was at the house looking for Madeleine? When he had burst into the drawing room, Sarah was still upstairs.

“I am told he was French,” Evelyn said vaguely.

“Perhaps it is coincidental that Lady Victoria and her daughters have so recently returned from France.”

“I met Aunt Victoria, Elise, and Madeleine for the first time yesterday.” Evelyn deliberately avoided commenting on Sarah’s insinuation that it seemed unlikely the family did not know Georges.

“My husband is rather keen on our eldest son, Alexander, making a match with Madeleine. From what I have seen during our brief acquaintance, Madeleine would be much more suited to my younger son, David.”

Sarah’s entire countenance altered when she spoke about her youngest. Evelyn couldn’t help but wonder if the woman’s sons were aware of her very obvious favouritism.

“How so?”

“Madeleine is a quiet girl and dresses modestly, as a young woman should. Elise, on the other hand, is somewhat outspoken and as you saw this evening favours the type of gown popular on the continent.” Sarah wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Thin, inadequate material and a neckline that was most indecent.”

Evelyn tried to think back to how the two girls presented at dinner. Madeleine was quiet and demure, that was true. However, Elise had not seemed particularly talkative either. She had thought the girl’s dress rather pretty. Dove grey with sequins was a combination Evelyn herself would wear. Sarah had a point regarding the neckline. Personally, she would not feel comfortable with quite so much flesh showing.

In contrast, Madeleine wore a drop waisted dress that was more popular in England and was certainly more suitable for a young girl waiting to be presented at court.

“How do Alexander and David differ in personalities?”

Sarah smiled, seeming pleased to talk about her boys. “Alexander is more like his father. Of course, he works closely with him as one day he will inherit so it is understandable they are more alike.”

“What does David do?”

“David is a lawyer.” Pride radiated from Sarah as she spoke about her younger son. “Madeleine would make him a very nice wife. A perfect solicitor’s wife. Her dress was understated, she spoke intelligently when spoken to, and was very modest in her ways. I particularly noticed that while her sister was happy to expose too much skin, Madeleine carried a shawl to maintain her dignity.”

A vision of Madeleine in the drawing room when she caught sight of Georges flittered through Evelyn’s mind. The girl was standing near the door with a small clutch bag in one hand and a shawl draped over her arm. She held her hands in front of her body, which certainly supported Sarah’s claims of the girl’s high level of decorum.

“Such a pretty shawl,” Evelyn murmured as though it was of no consequence. “Do you remember what colour it was?”

Sarah thought for a moment. “It was pink, I believe. A very pale pink.”

The shawl covering Perdita in the basket was a deep red. There could be no suggestion that it was the same item. Though, Evelyn realised, a lady would have many shawls of different colours in her wardrobe. It was important that she get the article back from Mrs Chapman as soon as it was clean so she could ask the female guests if they had one like it.

“If you will excuse me, Lady Northmoor, I think I will see if my husband has finished smoking and is ready to retire.” Sarah stood and moved over to look at the baby. “I can see why you can’t stop staring at her. She’s an extraordinarily beautiful child.”

“May I ask you one last thing before you leave?”

“Of course.”

“Do you have any idea who she may belong to, or why she was left on our kitchen doorstep?”

“I most certainly do not,” Sarah said stridently. “What a peculiar question.”

“Thank you.” Evelyn sighed as she looked down at Perdita. What a terrible evening it had been. “Good night.”

Chapter Four

The uniformed officer was so flummoxed at being spoken to by an earl that it was easy for Tommy to convince him to let him into the library on the pretence of getting a drink.

Fred and Sarah Ryder had retired to their room. Tommy longed to climb the stairs himself and sink into a deep sleep. It had been some years since he had been as tired as he was at that present moment.

As he slipped into the room, it was apparent he had interrupted a heated discussion between the brothers.

“Northmoor,” Alexander said with no attempt to hide his irritation.

In contrast, his brother smiled politely. “Good evening, Lord Northmoor. Dashed awful business this.”

“Dreadful,” Tommy agreed. “Hopefully the police will be finished with you soon and you can get to bed.”

“My brother would rather stay up and greet Miss Bernard when she comes down for breakfast,” Alexander drawled.

“Is that right?” Tommy turned to David and smiled. “Which of my cousins has captured your attention?”

“It does not matter which sister either of us likes.” Alexander tipped back his head and swallowed the last dregs of his drink.

He set the glass down heavily on a nearby table, telling Tommy that he had consumed rather too much liquor for one night. His jacket was slung carelessly over the back of a chair, his tie loosened, and his hair no longer neatly slicked down as it had been when he’d finally come down for dinner.

His conversation with Fred Ryder had prepared him for this conversation, and so Tommy already understood the reason for Alexander’s frustration. “I understand your father is keen on securing a match between you and Madeleine.”

“And what Father wants, he will get. I wouldn’t be surprised if one morning Mother fails to wake up because he’s done away with her so he can finally marry Lady Victoria.”

“Now, Alex.” David reached out a hand to pat his brother’s arm. “Let us not talk hastily. Especially on an evening when a murder has already occurred. Please watch what you say when you speak to the police.”

“I’m surprised you know about your father’s previous friendship with my aunt,” Tommy said carefully.

“I don’t think it’s a secret.” Alexander smirked. “Few things are in London. I don’t suppose you’d know much about that. You usually stay on your estate, don’t you? I can’t think what you do all day long up there. It must be so boring.”

Tommy thought about the recent cases he and Evelyn had solved. Hessleham was a long way from boring. On the surface, it was a little country village like so many all over the country. However, underneath, it was boiling with as much passion, repressed emotions, and machinations as London.

“You would be surprised,” Tommy said mildly.

“I say.” David turned to Tommy. “Wasn’t your uncle murdered last year?”

“That’s right.” Tommy watched Alexander’s face carefully as he spoke his next words. “Poisoned by the brandy he habitually drunk each evening before dinner.”

“Then you inherited his title?” Alexander sneered, but his voice lacked its previous self-assurance.

“Not quite.” Tommy pulled a face. “Someone went on to shoot my cousin Eddie after his father was killed. I inherited the title at that time.”

“Wasn’t that a little convenient for you?”

“Not really.” Tommy held out his hands, palms up. “I never had a desire to become Lord Northmoor. In fact, there are still days when I wish I could pass the title and its accompanying responsibilities on to my brother. Even if that were possible, it wouldn’t be advisable. Harry is only nineteen.”

“Had this dead French fellow been poisoned?” Alexander stared at his empty tumbler.

“I don’t believe so.” Tommy was certain poor Georges had received a deadly stab wound, but it was for the home officer pathologist to determine the cause of death.

“Does that mean you’re not a suspect?”

“Not this time,” Tommy confirmed. “At least, not so far as I know.”

“Were you suspected of your uncle’s death?” David asked.

“They actually arrested me for it,” Tommy admitted. “That is what led Evelyn and I to investigate the murder. So we could clear my name. Before the war, I worked in the police force, so I had some experience in conducting an enquiry. Evelyn and I were able to uncover the murderer’s identity.”

“Your wife?”

“You shouldn’t underestimate Evelyn simply because she is a woman.”

“I’m afraid my brother thinks women have only one use,” David scoffed. “That is what we were discussing when you came in.”

Tommy chuckled to hide his anger. “How dangerous.”

“I was simply commenting on what an attractive girl Elise is,” Alexander said defensively.

“Yet your father thinks you should pay attention to Madeleine?”

Alexander used the arm rests on the chair to lever himself upright. Grabbing his empty glass, he went over to the decanter and poured himself a drink. Without offering to get a drink for either his brother, or Tommy, he returned to his seat.

“Let’s get one thing clear, Northmoor.” Alexander swirled the liquid around and stared at it morosely. “He doesn’t want me to talk to the girl at social functions and ask her for a couple of dances. Father fully expects me to propose by the end of the summer.”

David stared resolutely ahead, as though his brother’s words had no effect on him whatsoever.

“Is that what you want?”

Alexander’s head snapped up and his eyes blazed with frustration. “I’ve told you. It doesn’t matter what we want. Father is the Earl of Chesden. Not only does that usually guarantee him his own way, but he controls the allowance I receive.”

“Father has offered Alex a rather colossal sum of money if he marries Madeleine before Christmas.”

“Are my cousin’s wishes to be considered at all in this matter?”

“Not by Father.” Alexander shook his head. “It’s common knowledge that side of your family is disadvantaged, from a economic standpoint. I expect he believes he can buy what he wants. He usually does.”

“I can’t believe Aunt Victoria would agree to this.”

“Come on now,” Alexander said. “You cannot be that naïve. People will do almost anything for money.”

He knew arrangements happened between families, but he’d never really stopped to consider how many of the brides and grooms were marrying completely voluntarily. What a terrible way to treat your children—as though they were of no more importance than animals bought and sold at market.

Elise and Madeleine may not be his children, but he determined right then neither of his cousins would marry any man unless it was their choice. He must speak directly to Victoria in the morning to find out the level of her complicity in Fred Ryder’s plans.

***

Evelyn rested her chin on one upturned hand. Her elbow sat on the kitchen table and was the only thing stopping her from toppling onto the stone floor.

“Why don’t you go to bed, My Lady?” Mrs O’Connell, the cook, asked. “Doris has already gone up.”

“How strange to talk about going to bed at six in the morning.” Evelyn sipped the sweet tea the cook had placed on the table next to her.

“It’s been an odd twenty-four hours from what I can tell. You should have had Doris or Mrs Chapman wake me, My Lady.”

“We didn’t all need to be up.” Evelyn yawned. “The baby slept after we bathed her. I expect she was exhausted from her arrival into the world.”

“At least help has arrived now.” Mrs O’Connell eyed Evelyn. “Will you keep her?”

It was a conversation she would have to have properly with Tommy. Neither of them wanted Perdita to end up in the workhouse, but was it right to take her to Yorkshire and raise her as their own child when she likely had family here in London?

“The wet nurse has agreed to work for us until the baby is weaned. The nursemaid will stay with us as long as we remain in London. She doesn’t want to come to Yorkshire when we return.”

“Are they responsible staff?” Mrs O’Connell wondered. She looked around before continuing. “The staff here are adequate, but nothing like those we have at Hessleham Manor.”

Evelyn smiled. “Are you missing Nora?”

Nora was the kitchen assistant and had stayed home to cook for the staff who had remained at the manor. Their home in Belgrave Square usually had only a skeleton staff, as the family didn’t tend to use it very often. They employed temporary help when Victoria asked to stay, but Evelyn wanted to bring their most senior and trusted staff with them. At least they would ensure they ran the household to her and Tommy’s liking.

“I am, My Lady. She often knows what I want in the kitchen before I know myself.”

“You’re very close to her, are you not?”

Mrs O’Connell fussed with the table, running a cloth over it even though it was already spotless. “She’s a nice enough young lass, even if she never stops chattering on.”

Evelyn smothered a grin. That was high praise enough from Mrs O’Connell. Goodness knew what would happen if the butcher’s boy from the village got himself together and proposed to Nora. Eventually Nora would leave her post and poor Cook would be lost without her, and she knew it.

“Tell me what happened last night,” Evelyn said. “From the time Madeleine brought Georges down to the kitchen.”

Mrs O’Connell frowned as she tried to recall the details. “She said Lord Northmoor had arranged for Georges to eat with you, but he refused. She asked if he could eat with us. I said if that was alright with you then that is what we would do.”

“And did he stay down here and have his meal?”

“He did,” Mrs O’Connell confirmed. “Not that we really knew he was here. Didn’t say anything other than to thank me for the food.”

“Then what did he do?”

“Frank Douglas, the footman, said he saw him on the stairs.”

“What was he doing?”

“Frank said he was standing at the top of the servant’s stairs. He says the French boy looked like he was waiting for someone.”

Evelyn frowned. “I don’t suppose Frank asked him who he was waiting for?”

Mrs O’Connell shook her head. “Said he noticed him as he was up and down with the food, but he didn’t speak to him.”

“You and Lord Northmoor aren’t really going to do your sleuthing here in London, are you? Especially now you’ve got that bairn to look after?”

“If not us, then who?”

“Begging your pardon, My Lady, but the police. It is them who get paid for that type of work after all.”

Evelyn waved a dismissive hand. “You know how this works, Mrs O’Connell. Lots of people will not talk to the police. They will, however, talk to us. Sometimes because they are intimidated by Tommy and his title. Usually though, because people see us as harmless.”

“I remember last time you almost had the life choked out of you, My Lady. I’m shocked His Lordship hasn’t banned you from becoming involved.”

“Do you really see Lord Northmoor banning me from doing something?” Evelyn raised an eyebrow.

Mrs O’Connell made a noise that was somewhere in between a snort and a laugh. “I do not.”

“I promise to be very careful.”

Mrs O’Connell turned to the stove and stirred something. “I’m sure, My Lady.”

The cook had a habit of blustering her way through something she found emotionally challenging. She would do whatever she could to make sure they did not see her feelings. Which actually had the opposite effect. Everyone knew that if Mrs O’Connell had her back to people whilst they were talking about something difficult, she was more than likely wiping away a tear or at the very least composing herself.

“Now, might you know someone named Gabrielle?”

“Gabrielle, My Lady?”

“This girl may be a woman now.” Evelyn shrugged. “I don’t know what I mean, really. I’m so tired. Lady Victoria mentioned that name when she looked at the lost child. Did you work at Hessleham Hall when Victoria lived there?”

“I was nothing but a scullery maid back then,” Mrs O’Connell’s eyes focussed on the wall behind Evelyn. She had a slight smile on her lips, as though recalling something pleasant. “Was this Gabrielle connected to Lady Victoria?”

“I think she must have been. Could there have been a sister, or a niece? Some kind of close relation like that?”

“I don’t remember a Gabrielle. Lady Emily would be the best person to answer that. There’s nothing she doesn’t remember about the family tree.”

“Of course. How silly of me. Lady Victoria wrote to Lady Emily for years while she lived in France. I shall speak to her.”

“My Lady,” said the cook. “If you don’t mind my saying, it would be best if you were to lie down and sleep for at least a few hours. Maybe when you are rested, sleuthing will be a little easier?”

“Mrs O’Connell, I don’t mind you saying so. Of course, you are quite right.” Evelyn wearily got to her feet. “Perhaps you would ask Mrs Chapman to wake me mid-morning? There are so many things I must do.”

“I will, My Lady, but mind you don’t go wearing yourself out.”

It was excellent advice, but Evelyn didn’t see herself taking it until she and Tommy had solved the murder of Georges and worked out who baby Perdita belonged to.

***

Detective Inspector Price asked to speak to Evelyn and Tommy before they went to their room.

“I’ve sent Ada out to the shop to buy whatever she thinks Perdita needs for the next few weeks,” Evelyn told Tommy.

“Who is Ada?” Tommy couldn’t keep up with the changes in the household though, in fairness, he was so tired he would struggle to remember his own name if asked.

“The nursemaid we employed based on the recommendation of Dr Michaels.”

“Nursemaid, right.” Tommy opened the door to the library. “I’ll try to remember that.”

They entered the room and sat together on the sofa. The detective got up from his chair near the window and walked over to stand in front of them.

“This is my investigation and I expect you both to respect that,” he said, his voice firm. “Is that understood?”

“Of course.” Tommy crossed one ankle over the other and rolled his shoulders. “Was there something you particularly wanted to discuss with us? My wife is incredibly tired. She also has undertaken caring for an infant she has taken responsibility for so needs her rest.”

“We still have Lady Emily Christie and Elise and Madeleine Bernard to speak to.” The detective looked at his notes. “At that point we will leave the house under the guard of a team of four uniformed officers. We will post one at each entrance to the house. The other two will be inside the house where their duty is primarily to keep everyone safe while we, Price and I, investigate and follow up enquiries.”

“You think someone from inside our home committed the murder?” he asked.

The detective raised a surprised eyebrow. “Don’t you?”

“Indeed I do,” Tommy said regretfully. “Is there anything else you can tell us about what happened to Georges?”

“It appears that a long, thin, bladed weapon killed him. There will be a full examination, but that’s the initial opinion of the Home Office pathologist. That is the primary purpose of my discussion at this time. Is there such an implement in the house?”

“Why do you believe someone from within this house committed the murder?” Evelyn asked.

Her question gave Tommy time to think through each room and whether it might contain a weapon such as the one Price suggested was used to kill Georges.

“It’s very difficult to access your courtyard from the back of the house,” the detective explained. “I had Harrington here try to do it.”

“How clever,” Evelyn murmured.

“He finally gained access after several attempts. Getting out of the courtyard proved more difficult.”

“How so?” she asked. “Surely he just needed to unlatch the gate and walk through?”

“If we are to believe everyone, that gate wasn’t just latched shut. It was also bolted. Your cook…” He flipped through his notebook. “Mrs O’Connell states she knows they definitely pushed home the bolt. She checks this herself before she retires for the night.”

“That sounds like Mrs O’Connell.” Evelyn leaned forward in her chair. “She is a very loyal, and thorough, member of staff. Her word can certainly be trusted.”

“The murderer therefore did not escape out into the back streets, but back into the house. Unfortunately there had been much activity in the kitchen between us learning that information and examining the kitchen thoroughly.”

“It is only to be expected you assumed the murderer had escaped through the gate,” Evelyn said soothingly. “Were you able to find anything in the kitchen?”

“There appeared to be a slight trace of blood on a tap.” The detective shrugged. “It wasn’t a big enough spot for us to be certain it was even blood. Furthermore, kitchen staff admitted to using that sink on numerous occasions this morning.”

“The conclusion is that someone killed Georges, washed his hands in the kitchen sink, then went back upstairs as though nothing had happened?”

“That is our theory.” The detective inclined his head. “Most of your guests remained downstairs after dinner. They can alibi each other. Three guests retired early. We will question them when they arise.”

“Those are your only suspects?” Tommy asked.

“Those are our major suspects,” the detective corrected. “We will rule no one out. In my considerable experience, people tend to lie to the police. Particularly those who have something to hide.”

Tommy bristled at the man’s supercilious tone. He breathed deeply through his nose. It wouldn’t do for him to lose his temper with the detective. If he were to do so, they might not continue to share information with him.

“Could the weapon be an ice pick?” Evelyn offered the suggestion. “Malton, our butler, would be the best person to ask about that.”

“I keep a letter opener on the desk over there.” Tommy pointed to the corner of the room.

Price strode over and looked at the surface of the imposing mahogany desk. He beckoned to Tommy. “Come over here and show me where it usually is.”

Tommy walked over, his heart hammering. He knew the evidence pointed to the murderer being either a family member of one of his guests, but he didn’t want to face it.

He pointed to the right-hand side of the desk. “It is always there, at the bottom corner.”

The detective bent and looked underneath the desk. Standing up, he looked at Tommy. “It appears to be missing.”

Tommy moved over to stand next to the detective. He swept his eyes over the desk in a vain hope he would see something the other man had missed.

Eventually he shook his head in defeat. “It’s not here. It is very distinctive. Silver with a Scottish basket hilt.”

“Sharp enough to kill?”

“I’m afraid so.”

“Harrington, get on the telephone and let the station know we need more unformed officers. This entire house needs searching immediately. We find the weapon, we’ve found our murderer.”

A Note from Catherine

Thank you very much for reading Murder in Belgrave Square! I had so much fun writing this story, and I very much hope you enjoyed reading it. If you did, please consider leaving a review. Not only do reviews help other readers decide if Murder in Belgrave Square is a book they might like to read, but they also help me know what readers did, and did not enjoy, about my book.

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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2021 by Catherine Coles

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review.

Kindle edition: April 2021

Editor: Sara Miller

Book design: Sally Clements

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