He leaned across the arms of our chairs until I could see the dark ring circling the lighter green of his eyes. Funny, I’d never noticed that before.
“It’s a secret,” he whispered, his breath tickling my lips. “I can only tell my wife.”
I leaned back and gave him a scowl, pushing all thoughts of his lovely eyes from my mind. “I’ve warned you to be careful about that, George. Someday I may call your bluff.”
With a satisfied smile, he sat back in his chair. “Then I live in hope.”
“Now you’re trying to distract me. At least tell me why you’ve been given this assignment rather than the police.”
“Apparently some of the information in Mrs. Archer’s possession is rather sensitive, and potentially damaging, to more than one important family or career. My friend didn’t trust the police to keep that information to themselves. He used his influence to have the files reviewed by a liaison to the police.” He shrugged. “That would be me.”
“Considering she has personal information about me as well, I’m relieved to hear you’re handling this.” I gave him a narrow-eyed examination, wondering how much he’d tell me. “Based on my discussion with Delaney, the theory is she was blackmailing many people and one of them decided to end it by murdering her. You are to go through her information and determine the most likely suspect?”
“Essentially.”
I frowned. I still found it hard to believe Mary would stoop to blackmail. “Is there any evidence that she’d actually blackmailed anyone? Banknotes stuffed in a drawer? Large deposits to her bank account? Has someone actually made an accusation?”
George smiled. “Good questions, Frances. I’ll be sure to ask them. The police were called in yesterday and I received this assignment today. I haven’t read the report yet and they can’t check with her bank until tomorrow. With any luck, some fool gave her a bank draft rather than currency. But in any event, I expect the police will make note of any large deposits.”
“Then the whole idea of blackmail is only a theory.”
“At this point, yes.” One brow crept upward as he examined me. “It sounds like you don’t subscribe to that theory.”
“I find it rather far-fetched to say the least. Delaney turned my world upside-down this afternoon, casting two respectable people in a very dark light.”
“Two?” He took my hand from the arm of the chair. “Never say you believe Delaney’s suspicions of Charles.”
“Are they any more incredible than suspecting Mary of blackmail? How would she even know where to begin with such an endeavor?”
“One begins by collecting information, and to my understanding, she certainly had that.” He leaned forward in his chair. “What do you really know of Mrs. Archer? Her financial situation may have suffered since her husband’s death. Perhaps she needed the money desperately and saw no other way.”
“I could make an equally compelling case against Charles. Perhaps he fell in love with Mary and she scorned him. Strong emotions can turn someone to violence.”
George dismissed my charges with a simple wave of our intertwined hands. “He and I have been friends for most of my life. He is neither quick to anger nor violent. Men of his size don’t have to resort to violence. Just a glare from him is intimidating enough.”
“Maybe Mary wasn’t intimidated.”
“Why are you making this argument? Do you really think he could be a murderer? He’s your cousin, for heaven’s sake.”
“He’s a cousin to Reggie and Graham, neither of whom are known for a surplus of integrity.”
“Neither are they known for murderous inclinations. Did Delaney tell you how she was murdered?”
“No.”
He leaned closer. “She was strangled, with a man’s bare hands. Can you picture Evingdon becoming so angry or violent he could wring the life from someone?”
I winced and turned away. Heavens, no. Not Charles. I could not imagine him harming anyone in such a way. I returned my focus to George, shaking my head. His expression was one of relief. Perhaps I should drop this argument. At least for the present.
“So, we’re back to Mary as blackmailer then. When will you delve into all her salacious memoranda?”
“I’m to pick it up tomorrow, unless of course Inspector Delaney arrests Evingdon for the murder.” George dropped my hand as he stood. “I should pay him a call and make sure he survived the interview. Did Delaney march straight over there?”
“I’m sure he did.” I rose to my feet and brushed the wrinkles from my skirt. “Let me go with you.”
He cocked one eyebrow. “Why do you wish to go?”
“Sympathy? He may have had feelings for Mary. He may be wracked with grief.”
“He’d just told you he was dropping the connection.”
I lifted my chin and dared him to argue further. “Fine. Then I’m going out of guilt. I brought this trouble to his door. Not only did I introduce him to Mary, I also sent Delaney after him.”
Chapter 4
As Viscount Evingdon preferred a country life, Charles lived in his brother’s town house on Albemarle Street in Piccadilly. The area was home to holders of the most ancient titles but only a short trip by carriage from my home in Belgravia, on the other side of Green Park and Buckingham Palace. The ride gave me little time to quiz George about his acquaintance with Charles.
“How did the two of you come to be such great friends?”
George lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “We met at school.”
“But he’s several years older than you. Isn’t that unusual?”
“Older boys often took us younger ones under their wings. At the age of twelve, I was not the great hulking brute you see before you now. With Charles as my mentor, I was saved a great deal of bullying.”
The image he brought to mind was one I could hardly credit. For one thing, he was hardly a great hulking brute. He was tall but more fashionably lean than hulking. As for Charles taking anyone under his wing, I’d be more inclined to believe he’d accidentally smother them as protect them. School ties would have to suffice as an explanation.
“He just seems a different type than you. He is a younger son yet he has no profession. He’s never married and lives at his brother’s home in town. Has he no ambition?”
“He’s the heir.”
I waved aside his answer. “Yes, he told me that was his reason for seeking a wife. But that’s only recently been determined, when the viscount and viscountess realized they were not to be blessed with a son. What were his prospects before then?” I bit my lip, awaiting George’s reaction. Perhaps I was being rather hard on Cousin Charles. “I don’t mean to say he’s wasting his life, by any means, and it’s
