A Body in Berkeley Square

Chapter Two

The Brandon house in Brook Street was a pale brick edifice inside which I'd endured many an evening with the hostile Colonel Brandon. When we'd returned from the war, Louisa had seemed to think we could resume our easy companionship in suppers and chatter, but the days of laughing in the Brandon tent late into the night had gone.

I missed that life. I missed it sharply. Even with the ever-present danger of battle and death lurking over us, my existence in the king's army had been good. I had been a whole man, fit and vigorous, enjoying my friends and comrades.

The footman assisted me from the coach and opened the door to the house. He took my greatcoat and hat and gloves but left me my walking stick.

"She's upstairs, sir," he told me.

I knew the way. I climbed the stairs, noting that the house was dark, cold, and silent. If the servants were up and awake, they were staying out of sight.

I found two maids in the room with Louisa, both looking upset and alarmed. Lady Aline Carrington, a stout, white-haired woman with a booming voice, was seated on a divan with Louisa.

Louisa reclined next to her, a blanket over her knees. Her maids had loosened her hair, and it hung down one shoulder in a golden swath. Despite that, she looked tired and old, well beyond her forty-three years.

When she saw me, she exhaled in relief. "Gabriel."

Lady Aline creaked to her feet. "Lacey, my boy. Dreadful business, this. You will find out what really happened, won't you?"

"That is my intention," I said.

"Louisa was a bit worried you wouldn't trouble yourself," Lady Aline said, always frank.

Louisa flushed. "Aline, will you please allow me to speak to Gabriel alone?"

"Of course. Come along," she told the maids. "Your mistress will not crumble to dust without you. At least not for ten minutes."

The maids, who had been straightening Louisa's blanket and holding a cup of tea for her, made every show of reluctance as they left the room. Lady Aline drove them out before her, then she shut the door.

"Louisa," I began, preparing to launch into my speech of comfort.

Louisa pushed aside the blanket and left the divan to fling her arms around my neck.

This was so unusual for Louisa, that I stood still, nonplussed, before I closed my arms around her and pulled her close.

Once, three years ago, Louisa had come to me for comfort. On that rainy, hot night in Spain, her husband had told her of his plan to end their marriage. She'd come, weeping, to my tent in the middle of the night, and I'd held her as I held her now, stroking her golden hair and giving her words of comfort.

"I will do everything I can, Louisa. I will help him. Never fear that."

She laid her head on my shoulder. It was unlike her to crumble, but tonight she had endured much. I wondered whether she had known about Mrs. Harper before this, and I silently cursed Brandon for raining everything upon her at once.

I held her for a time. The coal fire flickered quietly on the hearth, and rain pattered against the dark windows.

At last, Louisa lifted her head and wiped her eyes with her fingertips. "Forgive me, Gabriel. But I feel as if I cannot breathe."

I smoothed her hair. "Louisa, I know magistrates; I even know a man whom magistrates fear. Your husband will be released and brought home to you. I swear this."

Her gray eyes, luminous with tears, contained resignation and a strange finality. I realized with a jolt that she believed Brandon guilty.

"Louisa," I began, and then I felt a draft on my cheek.

The door had opened, and Lady Breckenridge stood on the threshold.

The widowed Viscountess Breckenridge was thirty years old. She was slender but not overly thin and had thick black hair and dark blue eyes. She was quite attractive and knew it, and I had let that attraction entrance me quite often of late.

Lady Breckenridge was outspoken and acerbic, but she could show touches of kindness, such as when she had purchased me a new walking stick when my old one had been ruined. She also enjoyed bringing up-and-coming artists and musicians to the attention of society, and she lived well in her status as widow of a wealthy and titled gentleman and only daughter of another wealthy and titled gentleman.

She had claimed once that she wanted friendship from me, but I never quite knew how to take her overtures.

Lady Breckenridge paused for one silent moment on the threshold, taking in Louisa in my arms without changing expression. Then she swept into the room, gesturing for the tray-bearing footman behind her to follow.

"Lady Aline suggested drink stronger than tea, Mrs. Brandon," she said. "I sent your servant to find your husband's cache of brandy and whiskey."

Louisa stepped away from me and moved back to the divan.

Lady Breckenridge instructed the footman to leave the tray on the tea table. She was still in her ball gown, a creation of deep blue velvet. The hem was lined with a stiff gold lace that rose in an inverted V in the front to be topped with a bow somewhere near Lady Breckenridge's knees. Her sleeves were long, but the ensemble left her shoulders bare. She'd draped a silk shawl over her arms, but did not bother to pull it up to warm her skin.

Lady Breckenridge gave me a sharp stare, as though daring me to ask what she was doing there. I was grateful to her for helping Louisa home, but I wondered at her motives.

I was grateful also to Lady Aline for suggesting the brandy. I poured a dollop into Louisa's teacup and pressed it into her hands. "Drink this."

Obediently, Louisa lifted the cup to her lips. I sloshed whiskey into one of Brandon's precious cut crystal glasses for myself, and sipped. The liquid burned a nice warmth through my body.

"Brandy, nothing better," Lady Aline said, coming back into the room. "Lacey, pour me some of that whiskey, and do not look shocked, I beg you. I am much older than you and can drink what I like."

I hid a smile as I obliged her and poured the whiskey. "May I give you tea, Donata?" I asked Lady Breckenridge. "Or will you be daring and drink whiskey as well?"

Lady Breckenridge hesitated, then made the smallest negative gesture. "Nothing for me, thank you."

Louisa gave me an odd look. Lady Aline raised her brows and drank her whiskey.

I realized after a moment that I'd betrayed myself. I called very few women by their Christian names; to do so was to acknowledge an intimate friendship. I addressed Louisa by her Christian name, and Marianne Simmons, who'd filched my candles when she'd lived upstairs from me. I should properly address Lady Breckenridge as my lady.

I decided that trying to correct myself would condemn me further, so I said nothing.

Lady Aline tossed her whiskey back as well as any buck at White's and told Lady Breckenridge to go home.

"I will stay with Louisa tonight, poor lamb," she said. "I will call on you tomorrow, Donata, dear."

"Thank you, my lady," Louisa said to Lady Breckenridge from the divan. "It was kind of you."

Lady Breckenridge raised her brows. "Not at all. Good night, Aline, Captain." She made a graceful exit from the room.

I could not leave it at that. I excused myself from Louisa and Lady Aline and followed her out.

When I caught up to Lady Breckenridge at the head of the stairs, she gave me a faint smile. "I am capable of finding the front door, Captain. Mrs. Brandon's servants are most obliging."

She began to descend, not waiting for me. She'd dressed her hair tonight in tightly wound curls looped through a diamond headdress. The coiffure bared her long neck, which I studied as I followed her down the stairs.

At the door, one of the maids helped her don a mantle, a heavy velvet cloak with a hood.

"Thank you," I told Lady Breckenridge. "For helping Louisa. It was kind of you."

"You are wondering why I did," she said as she settled the hood. "I am not known for my helpfulness."

"I know that you can be kind, when you wish to be."

A smile hovered about her mouth. "High praise, Captain. I helped her, because I knew she was your friend. And Lady Aline's." Her eyes were a mystery. "Good night."

I touched her velvet-clad arm. "May I call on you tomorrow? I would like to hear your version of events, if you do not mind discussing them. You were there and likely much less agitated than Mrs. Brandon."

"Of course." She inclined her head. "I will tell you all I can. Call at four o'clock. I intend to laze about tomorrow and be home to very few. Good night."

I released her arm and bowed. Lady Breckenridge acknowledged the bow with a nod, then swept out into the strengthening rain under the canopy that the obliging footmen held over her.

By the time I returned to the sitting room, Louisa had regained some color. The blanket was tucked around her again, and pillows cradled her back. Lady Aline sipped a full glass of whiskey, her rouged face now bright pink.

"I should have been more gracious," Louisa was saying.

"Nonsense," Lady Aline said. "Donata Breckenridge is a woman of sense, despite her ways. She enjoys playing the shrew, and who can blame her? Her husband was appalling to her from beginning to his very nasty end. She has a good heart, but she hides it well."

"All the same," Louisa murmured. I realized that she was embarrassed. A viscountess, a member of the aristocracy, had witnessed her husband's humiliating arrest and confessions.

"She will say nothing, Louisa," Lady Aline assured her.

Louisa sank into silence.

I pulled a chair close to the divan. "Louisa, I will have to ask you questions about tonight," I said. "Can you bear to answer now? Or would you rather wait?"

"She needs her rest, Lacey," Aline said.

I looked at Louisa's drawn face, and my heart bled. I'd spent most of my adult life wanting to make things better for her, and I never had been quite able to do so.

"I would rather tell you at once," Louisa said. "I want to put it behind me."

I glanced at Aline, who gave me an almost imperceptible nod.

"Let us start from the very beginning, then. Why did you attend Lord Gillis's ball?"

"We were invited. I received the invitation a week ago. I decided to accept because we could fit it into our night." Louisa paused. "No, that is not entirely true. I was flattered to be asked. Aloysius had met Lord Gillis during the war. I was pleased that Lord Gillis remembered us."

"And he was willing to attend?" Colonel Brandon went to social occasions because of a sense of duty, not pleasure. When he reached the gatherings, he immediately sought the card room or his circle of friends and left Louisa to enjoy the event on her own.

"As willing as he usually is," Louisa said with the ghost of a smile.

"Tell me every detail you can remember," I urged. "Begin with leaving your house tonight. What was Brandon like? Did he behave in any way out of the ordinary?"

"Much as usual, I think." Louisa sighed. "I admit that I was not paying attention. I was much more worried that my gown would be not quite right, and what would Lady Gillis think of me? It seems so silly now."

I could not imagine Louisa looking anything but radiant, but I did not say so. The way ladies viewed other ladies, I had come to learn, was much different from the manner in which gentlemen viewed them. A woman would notice that the braid on another woman's bodice was two years out of date; a man would note how the color of the braid brought out the blue of her eyes.

"You looked splendid, Louisa," Lady Aline said. "I told you so, I believe."

Louisa gave her a wan smile. "You were very kind, I remember."

"What time did you reach the Gillises' home?" I asked.

"About ten o'clock, I think. Many others arrived at that time, as well. I remember that the square was packed with carriages."

"When you walked into the house, did you note who was around you? Who went in before and after you did?"

Louisa's brow furrowed. "I am not certain. I cannot remember, Gabriel. It seems as though it took place in another lifetime."

"Why is it important, anyway, Lacey?" Lady Aline interrupted. "Surely it's only important whether Brandon went near the Turner fellow."

"I am thinking along the lines of the knife. Brandon said he did not even know he had it with him. Perhaps he is lying, perhaps not. In either case, what if someone picked his pocket and obtained the knife that way? In the crush at the front door, with people milling about trying to enter the house all at once, a hand could easily slip into Brandon's pocket and purloin the knife."

Aline gave me an incredulous look. "Do you mean to say that a guest of Lord Gillis was an accomplished pickpocket? All of Mayfair would swoon."

"Not necessarily a guest. Footmen and maids surround their masters and mistresses. Lord Gillis's own servants usher in the guests and take their wraps."

"Well, good Lord," Lady Aline said. "Then everyone in the house, from the master to the scullery maid and everyone in between, could have murdered Mr. Turner."

"Yes," I said, feeling gloomy. "They all could have. We need to pare down the number to the ones most likely, and from there we will find the culprit."

"You make it sound alarmingly simple," Aline said, a wry twist to her lips. "How can we?"

"By asking rude and impertinent questions. Something I excel at."

Lady Aline looked amused. I was not known for my patience, especially in situations with dire consequences, like this one.

I returned to the question. "Do you remember, Louisa? To whom did you speak when you first entered the house?"

She sat in silent thought for a moment. I knew it would be a difficult task for anyone to remember what they did every minute of one particular evening. The events that followed would make it doubly difficult for her, but I had to try.

"Mrs. Bennington, the actress," Louisa said at last, naming a young woman who had recently taken the crowned heads of Europe by storm.

From what I'd heard, Claire Bennington had an English father but had been raised on the Continent, taking the stage in Italy about five years ago. She had become a success there, and recently returned to London, where she had quickly won over audiences. She was still quite young, only in her early twenties, and married to an Englishman whom she'd met on the Continent. This season, it was quite popular for hostesses to have Mrs. Bennington attend one of their events and give a short performance for the guests.

"She seems a rather vague young woman," Louisa went on. "I have seen her perform and enjoyed it very much. I remember remarking on the contrast, how brilliantly she plays a part, to her blank stares when anyone greeted her tonight."

"I noted that, myself," Lady Aline said. "Probably she plays others so well because she has no thoughts of her own."

"I can hardly imagine her picking my husband's pocket, however," Louisa said.

"Who else was nearby?"

Louisa closed her eyes, as though shutting out the room to remember the streams of guests entering Lord Gillis's house. "I suppose I remember Mrs. Bennington because she is so famous. Oh, yes, Mr. Stokes was behind us. He is rather loud. I could not mistake him."

I glanced at Lady Aline. "I do not know Mr. Stokes."

"Basil Stokes," Aline answered. "Knew him since I was seventeen. Always tried to look up my skirts then-said he only wanted to see my ankles. I boxed his ears. Still likes to look up a lady's skirt, the devil."

"Would he have a motive for murdering Mr. Turner?" I wondered.

"I have no idea. Don't see why. I could ask him, I suppose."

Lady Aline's idea of investigation might be more like interrogation by enemy soldiers. "That might not be necessary," I said quickly. I turned back to Louisa. "What happened when you entered the house?"

Louisa plucked at the blanket's edge. "The usual sort of thing. The footman took my wrap. My maid and I went to a retiring room, where she brought my slippers from their box and helped me put them on. Then she re-pinned my hair. Lady Breckenridge was in the retiring room with her maid, as well. We greeted each other."

"Where did you rejoin Colonel Brandon?"

"Near the entrance to the ballroom. He was speaking to Mr. Grenville and looking impatient. Aloysius so dislikes the ceremony of balls. I have no idea who else spoke to him while I was in the retiring room."

And Brandon was not the sort of husband to say breezily to his wife, Oh, my dear, I've just been talking to Mr. Godwin and Lord Humphreys about our ride in the park the other day. Brandon kept his mouth closed unless asked a direct question. Louisa had by this time mastered the technique for prying information from him when she needed to, but she'd have had no reason to on that occasion, unfortunately.

"No," I agreed. "Go on."

"I entered the ballroom with him. We were announced, though no one took much notice. Not of an obscure colonel and his wife."

Lady Aline patted her hand. "But we know your true worth, Louisa."

Louisa tried to look grateful, but I could see her struggling with exhaustion.

"I dislike to ask you about everyone you and Brandon talked to after that," I said, "but I am afraid I will have to. Did Brandon stay with you or flee as soon as the formalities were over?"

"Fled, of course," she said with a tired smile.

"To the card room? Or the billiards room?"

"Neither. I had stopped to speak to ladies of my acquaintance, and when I turned around again, Aloysius was approaching Mrs. Harper." Louisa faltered. "I did not know who she was. I remember feeling surprised because he began speaking to her as though he knew her and did not have to be introduced."

"They stood alone?"

"No." Louisa's lips tightened. "Mrs. Harper appeared to be with Mr. Derwent and Lady Gillis. Mr. Turner was also nearby, and he joined them."

"What did you think?" I asked as gently as I could.

"I did not think anything, not then. I did not know that the lady was Mrs. Harper-I'd never seen her before. But when Aloysius turned and walked away with her, I wondered if she might be the woman called Imogene Harper. You see, Mrs. Harper had been sending Aloysius letters."

My brows rose. "Had she? Did he tell you that?"

"Goodness, no. One morning at breakfast, I'd finished and started to leave the table while Aloysius was still reading his correspondence. I paused to kiss his cheek, and I happened to see the signature on the letter he was reading. Imogene Harper. I knew no one of that name. I must have startled him, because he immediately turned the paper facedown. He looked relieved when I merely wished him good morning and continued on my way."

What sort of man read letters from his mistress at breakfast with his wife? Knowing Brandon, I would assume that the woman had simply written him a letter about some business interest-except that Brandon had admitted to being Mrs. Harper's lover.

"She wrote more?" I asked.

"Yes. Several days after that, I saw a letter by his plate at breakfast, written in a woman's hand. Aloysius had not yet entered the room, so I picked it up." Louisa flushed, as though ashamed of herself. "It smelled of a woman's perfume. It was then that I began to suspect."

Tears swam in her eyes. I rested my hand on hers. "Louisa, I am sorry."

"If the connection were innocent," she said, "why should Aloysius not mention it? Mrs. Harper's husband, it seems, was a major who died at Vitoria. Why not tell me, or ask whether I remembered her?"

Why not, indeed? The evidence and admission were there. And yet, it still seemed unbelievable for Brandon. His sense of moral exactness had always been strong. Or had he simply been moral because he'd never been tempted? It is easy to reject sin when one has no interest in it.

"When he walked away with Mrs. Harper tonight, where did he go?" I asked.

"To an alcove. There were several such niches that opened around the ballroom where the guests could adjourn to talk."

"So he walked into a private alcove alone with Mrs. Harper for everyone in the ballroom to see? The bloody idiot."

"Yes." Lady Aline nodded. "He does not seem to be gifted in the ways of discretion."

Louisa put her hand to her mouth. "Forgive me. Gabriel, I cannot speak of this any longer."

Lady Aline's grim look softened. "You poor darling. You must be put to bed. Captain Lacey can ask his questions in the morning."

Tears slid down Louisa's face and pooled on her lips. I itched to know everything immediately, to run through the streets of London putting everything aright, but I knew that Lady Aline was correct. Louisa was exhausted and upset and needed to rest. I had rarely seen her this wretched.

I silently vowed that when I saw Colonel Brandon, I would make him pay for every one of Louisa's tears.