Page 9 of Ashes To Ashes
"Just answer it. Please."
Her lips flattened. "I have no other circus lover, only him. I know why you are asking this, and I think you are wrong. No one in the circus would kill Patrick. No one. We are like family."
"What about someone from outside the circus? Did any of your English gentlemen friends resent that you had another lover?"
She folded her arms beneath her bosom, pushing them up. Seth shifted his stance. "No one outside circus knew about Patrick and me," Ela said.
"Are you sure?"
"I cannot be certain, no." She studied her painted fingernails, and Lincoln waited for her to continue. She had something further to say, he was sure of it. "There is one man who is, how you say? Persist?"
"Persistent," Seth said.
"Yes, persistent. He demands to see me every night after the second show, and wishes for me to stay with him in his house until morning. But I cannot. I need to sleep, and Mr. Bailey would be very angry if he found out. So would Patrick, if he knew," she added with a quiet sigh. "Poor Patrick."
"Did you love him?" Seth asked.
"Bah! Love is for rich girls, not poor. I like Patrick, but he is—was—a circus man, and I do not want to be in circus my whole life."
"Would your persistent gentleman friend have saved you from this life?"
"No. He was a lord, or lord's son. I am not for marrying, so he tell me. He only wed English girl." She swore in Polish. There was no equivalent in English, but it wasn't a word Lincoln associated with delicate dancers.
"Do you think he knew about your relationship with O'Neill?" Lincoln asked.
"No. I tell him he is only one. That is best way."
That didn't mean he hadn't found out. "This man's name?"
She bit her lip and it took some gentle coaxing from Seth to get her to talk again. "Andrew. Andrew Buchanan."
Chapter 3
Neither Andrew Buchanannor his stepmother, Julia, were at Harcourt House, so Lincoln instructed Gus to drive on to Lichfield. Upon entering the long, sweeping drive, it became clear why no one was at home at Harcourt House—Julia's carriage stood behind the conveyances of Lords Gillingham and Marchbank, and General Eastbrooke.
"Want me to turn about, sir?" Gus shouted over the rumble of wheels.
"Drive on," Lincoln said. He had to face the committee members sooner or later. It was surprising that he hadn't seen them for some time—since before Charlie left. Breaking the news to them about her departure would be…interesting.
Gus stopped alongside the other carriages so that Lincoln could enter via the front door, something he rarely did. Doyle met him and informed him that the visitors were waiting in the newly refurbished drawing room upstairs, rather than the smaller downstairs parlor.
"They insisted on staying, sir." Doyle kept his voice low as he took Lincoln's coat and gloves.
"Bring tea," Lincoln said.
"Tea has been served, sir."
Lincoln made his way up to the drawing room. He'd been in it only once since the new furniture arrived from France. He'd been avoiding the room. The new pieces had been chosen by Charlie during their recent Parisian sojourn, and he saw her touch in everything. At least this time he would be distracted by the committee members and their inevitable barrage of questions.
"Finally!" Gillingham grumbled. "We've been waiting an age for you."
"It hasn't been that long, Gilly," the general chided. He greeted Lincoln with a curt nod.
Lincoln responded with a nod of his own. It was the same manner in which they'd greeted one another since Lincoln could remember.
Lord Marchbank sat beside Julia on the sofa, furthest from the crackling fire. His greeting was a bland, "Afternoon, Fitzroy." Of all the committee members, he was the one Lincoln respected. There was no guile in him, no false flattery or hidden agenda. He made sound, succinct comments when he had something to say and kept to himself when he did not. He was gruff, honest, and appreciated those who were honest in return.
Julia was his opposite in every way. From her perfectly coifed hair to her shiny black boots, she was every inch a lady. She wore pearl drop earrings today and a matching pearl necklace that she'd looped around her slender white throat three times. There were more rings on her fingers than the queen's, and a pearl and jet butterfly broach took up most of her jacket lapel. The effect was too much for daywear. While he was far from being an expert on the nature of women, he knew a little about behaviors in the animal kingdom. Her elaborate display was perhaps an attempt to catch his eye, or to outshine the woman she saw as her rival.
