A Daring Liaison(13)
Mr. Renquist frowned and his pencil flew across his paper as he made notes. Several of the ladies raised their eyebrows at her announcement and she knew they were wondering how she would handle such an occurance.
Madame Marie took a few more measurements and stood back with her hands on her hips.
“A lovely figure, Mrs. ’Uffington. I believe we shall try the new lower waistline. Bien entendu! I will begin at once,” she said, bustling from the dressing room.
Georgiana turned to Lady Sarah. “Do I not have to choose a style from her books?”
Lady Sarah merely smiled. “Trust her, Georgiana. She will delight you.”
Finished with his notes, Mr. Renquist took a deep breath and continued. “That brings us to you, Mrs. Huffington. Is there anyone in your past who might have a reason to kill your husbands?”
She was prepared for that question since she’d asked it of herself many times. It was that very question that had sent her straight to Gina and the Wednesday League book club. “I have no relatives, which is the reason Aunt Caroline raised me. Though I called her ‘aunt’ we were not blood kin. She had no brothers or sisters, just her second cousins. The entailed lands reverted to the crown upon her father’s death, and the rest were solely hers. I shall learn her wishes for the final disposition of her estate once I have read her will. But she led me to believe that no one else had a right to make a claim on her estate.”
Mr. Renquist looked pained. Clearly, he would rather have someone to point a finger at than have her as the only logical killer. “I am bound to say, Mrs. Huffington, that it looks bad for you. Still, if there is something afoot, we shall uncover it. Are you willing to do your part?”
“Whatever you think reasonable.”
“Go about in society. Make note if anything odd occurs, or if anyone suspicious lurks near you. Should there be something out of the ordinary, or anything too similar to the circumstances leading to your previous marriages, come to me at once.”
She nodded. A quick glance at the other ladies reassured her that this was not an unusual request.
Mr. Renquist continued, “I will meet you here at your fittings. If you wish to see me sooner, send word to Marie and she will arrange it.” He gave a short bow and was gone.
Bemused, Georgiana stared at the closed door as she edged from behind the screen. I am bound to say, Mrs. Huffington, that it looks bad for you.
* * *
As Lord Wycliffe and Charles entered their box at the Theatre Royal, Wycliffe inclined his head to the ladies in the box across from them and Charles lifted one sardonic eyebrow. Perhaps it was the threads of distinguished gray at Wycliffe’s temples, or the fact that he was unmarried, considered good looking, and possessed of a title and position—whatever it was, Wycliffe did not lack for female attention and did not hesitate to reciprocate.
As if reading Charles’s mind, Wycliffe turned to him and smiled. “I say, Hunter! I always get more attention from the ladies when I’m in your company.”
“’Tis true,” Sir Harry Richardson said with a wide grin and a slap on Charles’s back. “Why, even the demireps love our Charlie.”
“Ah, there’s our pigeon,” Wycliffe said, inclining his head toward a box to their left.
Charles followed his line of vision and saw Hortense and Harriett Thayer, along with Mrs. Huffington, entertaining a number of men in their box. His brother James was there, too, accompanied by his bride, Gina—the perfect excuse to pay his respects.
“Do you really think that divine creature is capable of cold-blooded murder?” Richardson asked Wycliffe.
“Capable? Yes. From what I’ve heard, she is more than capable of anything she should choose to do. Morally inclined? That is another question entirely, and the one we must answer to the Secretary’s satisfaction.”
Charles cocked an eyebrow. “Is that possible?”
Wycliffe laughed. “Peel is a reasonable man, for all his innovative ideas about reform and establishing a metropolitan police force.”
He gave a sigh, knowing now that they’d be answering to the Home Secretary himself for all that the investigation was “unofficial.” Suddenly the case had taken on a more ominous tone. More urgent.
“What do your instincts tell you about the woman?” Richardson asked.
“I hardly know. We have not talked at length, but she is a congenial sort. Quite pleasant to look at, and she possesses an infectious laugh. She expressed an interest in travel.”