" 'Ave ye any news of poor Mary? 'Ave they found the bloke what kilt 'er?"
"I'm sorry, Annie. There is nothing new to report. It seems there has been very little progress made in solving the crime. It's as if the man who killed her simply disappeared."
"We heard about that other woman who was killed," Helen said, "the other maid from Parklands… Miss LeCroix? Do you think their deaths were connected?" Marie's death had been reported as a small item in the London papers, but no link between the two murdered women was mentioned.
"I really don't know, Helen." That was the truth—she didn't know for sure, though she believed there was a very good chance there was. "All I can say is I hope they catch whoever is responsible."
"And 'ang the bloody bastard," Annie grumbled.
Lee made no comment since she staunchly agreed.
She didn't stay long, just made a last check of little Robbie and bid the ladies farewell. The women had sewing that needed to be done and Lee had other errands to run. As she made her way out to the carriage, she was thinking of the stop she needed to make at the dress shop for a final fitting of her new clothes when she spotted Andrew Mondale standing next to the rear wheel of the carriage.
"Lord Andrew—what a coincidence. Whatever are you doing here?" Mondale's snappy red high-perch phaeton, she saw, was parked directly behind the carriage that Caleb had provided for her use.
"I wanted to see you. I thought we needed to talk."
She frowned. "Then this isn't mere chance. How did you know where to find me, Andrew?" A memory returned of the man in the shadows. She thought of the late night vigil that Lord Andrew must have been keeping outside her bedchamber and her temper went up. "Have you been following me? Tell me you haven't been spying on me, Andrew."
Andrew sauntered toward her. Dressed more soberly than usual, in a dark blue tailcoat and silver waistcoat, he looked less foppish, older than the young man he often appeared.
"I told you I wanted to see you. I want to know what Tanner did to convince you to become his mistress." He stopped just in front of her. "You scarcely knew the man, Vermillion. Were you really so enthralled? Or was it something else? Money, perhaps? Jewelry? What was it, pet? What could Tanner give you that I could not?"
She lifted her chin, tried to think like Vermillion but it was getting harder and harder to do. "I chose Captain Tanner because he was interested in the woman I am inside and not some façade that my aunt created. Now, if you will excuse me…"
Heading toward the door of the carriage the coachman held open, she tried to brush past him, but Andrew caught her arm.
"Not so fast, my sweet. I won't be brushed off like a piece of lint on the hem of your skirt. I spent weeks courting you, Vermillion. We both know what you promised to deliver and sooner or later I intend to collect."
She didn't like the way he was looking at her, his mouth hard-set and his shoulders rigid. "I'm sorry if you were disappointed, Andrew, but you knew the game we were playing. Someone had to lose."
His mouth barely curved. "But the game goes on, doesn't it, pet—once Captain Tanner is gone." He reached out and touched a strand of her hair that had escaped from her bonnet, coiled it around his finger and tugged on the end. "This time I intend to be the winner."
Lee said nothing. For an instant, she was afraid of Andrew Mondale.
Then he smiled and let go of her hair. He swept her a bow, and his usual carefree demeanor returned. "Think of me, pet, when you are ready to play the game again."
And then he was gone.
More shaken than she should have been, Lee climbed into the carriage and leaned back against the seat. She thought of telling Caleb about the encounter but changed her mind.
Mondale was her concern, not Caleb's. And even if Lord Andrew became a problem, that wouldn't happen until Caleb had returned to Spain.
Nestled like a precious gem in the rolling green fields of Sussex, three stories high and constructed of creamy yellow Cotswold stone, the huge house dominated the landscape for miles around.
Kinleigh. Caleb hadn't been there in years, but he had never forgot the beauty of the home constructed by the Marquess's ancestors sometime during the seventeenth century. The entry was high, the ceiling vaulted and crisscrossed by heavy beams. The walls were paneled with different types of wood carved in idyllic country scenes and the windows near the top were fashioned of brightly colored stained glass.
As Caleb followed the stately, gray-haired butler across polished wooden floors inlaid in delicate patterns, down a wide corridor lit by gilded sconces to the room where the marquess would receive him, he thought of the man who owned the house, a longtime acquaintance of his father's, and wondered what he would say about the news Caleb had come to deliver.
The butler paused in the doorway to announce him. "Captain Tanner, my lord."
Caleb walked past him into an elegant drawing room done in black and gold. The butler backed out of the room, sliding the doors closed behind him. The marquess stood a few feet away, gray-haired and smiling, a kind man, Caleb had always thought him. But a kind man wouldn't have abandoned a young woman and her unborn child.
"Caleb, my boy! It's good to see you. How long has it been?"
"Nearly five years, I believe, my lord. I was here on the occasion of your son Bronson's twenty-third birthday."
"Yes, yes. I remember it well. Quite an evening, as I recall. I believe my son paid the price for that night for several days thereafter."
He chuckled, remembering Bronson's overindulgence that night. "How is he?"
"Fine. Beginning to think of marriage at last. I believe I have finally convinced him 'tis past time he wed and began to think of providing an heir."
"And Aaron? How does your younger son fare?"
Kinleigh sighed. "The boy is a handful. Spoiled rotten, just like most of his friends. But he fares well enough, I suppose."
Caleb digested this bit of news. If memory served, Aaron Montague was perhaps fifteen. Luc had once hinted at the younger boy's willful nature. Apparently it was true.
"Your father keeps me informed of your travels," the marquess continued. "It's unfortunate we don't see each other more often." Kinleigh walked toward an ornate black lacquer sideboard resting against a gold-flocked wall.
"According to Lucas, Father has been winning a number of races, which always makes him happy. Unfortunately, my assignment in London has kept me from paying him a call. I hope to journey to Selhurst the end of the week."
"Give him my regards, will you?"
"Yes, sir. I'd be more than happy to do that."
"Would you care for a drink? Brandy, perhaps or something else?"
"No, sir. Thank you."
"You won't mind if I have a glass, will you? Something tells me the reason for your visit isn't simply to renew an old acquaintance." The marquess poured himself a brandy, motioned Caleb over to the sofa, then sat down in a gold brocade chair across from him.
"All right, Captain Tanner, what can I do for you?"
Caleb shifted on the sofa. "I'm not exactly certain where to begin, your lordship. Let me start by saying I've discovered information you may find interesting. I can't be certain, however. There is every chance you already know, but I had to find out and so I am here."
Kinleigh took a sip of his brandy. "Go on."
"I realize you have two very healthy sons. The fact is, Lord Kinleigh, you also have a daughter."
The marquess straightened in his chair. "That is preposterous. Whoever told you that is lying. My late wife and I were together for more than ten years before she died. I never cheated on her. Not once. As to my more recent needs—"
"She is just turned nineteen, your lordship. Her mother was a woman named Angelique Durant. I believe the two of you were acquainted before your marriage to Lady Kinleigh."
The marquess's face went utterly pale. All the bravado seeped from his body and he sank more deeply into his chair.