Page 26 of Murder at the Seven Dials
Audrey felt a slip of hopelessness before stomping it down with an imaginary heel. She knocked on the wall between her and Carrigan.
“To Lord Herrick’s,” she said.
“Yes, Your Grace,” came his muffled reply. The carriage slowed, then turned direction.
Philip’s younger brother lived on Grosvenor Square. He’d married Lady Geneva Knowlton, a baronet’s daughter, less than six months ago, and considering Geneva—or Genie, as she preferred—was several years older than Michael, the love match had been the talk of the town for quite some time. At five and twenty, Genie had been settling in well as a spinster when Michael returned as a young lieutenant after the war in France concluded and began to attend the Season’s offerings.
He’d been smitten with Genie immediately, though she’d been a wallflower and by no means on the hunt for a husband. She’d turned down a few proposals her first few Seasons, and when her father’s finances dwindled due to a few misguided ventures, there were no more offers to either reject or accept. However, as the younger brother of a duke, Lord Herrick had no need of a plump dowry in any marriage match. Audrey and Philip had watched from afar the last few years as Michael wooed and eventually convinced the lady that he loved her, despite the difference in their ages. Now, as the new Lady Herrick, Genie had been spending the bulk of her time redecorating the house on the east side of Grosvenor Square—with a particular focus on the nursery room.
She was a few months gone, with the baby due in early fall, and ever since she’d announced the news, blushing with fierce happiness over tea, Audrey had found her visits at their residence to be something she rather dreaded. Jealousy was an awful beast. She and Philip would not produce an heir—it had been among the few agreements they’d settled on, privately, when he’d proposed the idea of marriage.
Audrey had been more than willing to forgo motherhood if it meant she would not be required to share the marriage bed with her childhood friend, who was in no way physically attracted to her. The awkwardness of that situation would have been unbearable. However, no one ever need know he never even attempted to get her with an heir, or that the marriage had never been consummated for that matter.
After two years, rumors had begun to settle in that she was barren, just as she and Philip had anticipated. Philip’s title and estate would eventually pass to Michael, and then Michael’s firstborn son, and life would gallop onward. Both she and Philip had agreed that a marriage of friendship was far better than anything else either of them would encounter—they each knew one another’s secrets, accepted them, and were willing to guard them. Philip would not find another bride so amenable, and if she married another man, Audrey would forever wonder if her “affliction” as her mother had once called it, would ever be exposed. A marriage of friendship was the safest option for them both—and as luck would have it, they enjoyed one another’s company.
However, Genie’s glow of happiness over the forthcoming baby rubbed at Audrey in a way it shouldn’t. Why the devil should she care? It was a baby. They were born every day.
Carrigan pulled to a stop, and in another few moments, Audrey found herself in the foyer of number 38 Grosvenor Square. New paper adorned the walls, an understated, silver-and-gray ivy pattern. The previous paper had been a pretty yellow floral, and that had been new as well. Audrey raised one brow and wondered how many more patterns before Genie was satisfied. She couldn’t imagine caring enough about the foyer paper at Violet House to have it changed once, let alone twice.
Andrews, the butler, showed Audrey into the front sitting room and left. She took a turn around the room, too restless to sit and wait patiently. How long would Philip remain in that upstairs tavern room before he could come home? There would be a grand jury hearing and then perhaps a trial in the House of the Lords…but his privilege of peerage, even at the highest ranking of duke, didn’t seem to be springing him from Bow Street. And from her visit earlier, she wasn’t certain he even wished to come home. He was wallowing. There was not a doubt in her mind that he felt guilty aboutsomething.
But it couldn’t be the murder.
“Audrey?” Genie’s soft voice came from the sitting room entrance. Her sister-in-law hesitated in the doorway. Her golden-brown hair was swept up into a loose bun, with two curls fringing each temple. She wore a day dress, the blue linen billowing around her to obscure any hint of a swelling belly.
“My apologies, Genie, I should have sent word first that I planned to call.”
“Nonsense.” A smile wobbled over her lips. She came forward, her steps equally unsure. “Michael advised me to leave you be, otherwise I would have called on you myself.”
Of course, he’d advised as much. Audrey was a social pariah now that her husband sat in prison for murder. She felt a surprising burst of appreciation for Millie, who had taken the risk. Belatedly, she registered that no one else, not even Genie, had attempted to call on her. Even if Barton had turned them away, he would have passed on their cards to Greer, who would have then given them to Audrey. So caught up in thoughts of Philip and Mr. Marsden and her investigation, she hadn’t stopped to give it a thought until now. It felt like all the air had fled her lungs as Genie surged forward and clasped Audrey in an embrace.
“Oh, my darling, I cannot believe this horror is happening.”
Audrey tried to pull back, but Genie hung on another awkward moment. Nothing, no image or vision, formed, and another rush of unexpected jealousy arose inside her for the woman. Genie had no demons to haunt her. She was far too happy and coddled to possess them.
Unlike Mr. Marsden.The brown-haired woman that had erupted in Audrey’s vision when he’d grasped her by the elbow was still in the shallow recesses of her own memory. Her delicate nose and creamy skin and full mouth. Whoever she was to him, she was important.
Audrey didn’t wish to think about the officer, however.
Genie finally released her hold. She stepped away and the two of them took seats around a small cherry wood table.
“I’ve rung for tea,” Genie said. “You will stay and visit as long as you like. Please don’t feel you must leave.”
Audrey hadn’t—at least, not until Genie mentioned it. Just days before, Audrey would have been an illustrious guest in any household. Now, however, Genie’s nervous demeanor showcased how brittle her standing in society truly was.
“I cannot stay long,” she told her sister-in-law. “I only needed to be out of Violet House for a little while.”
“It must be dreadful without Philip there. I can’t imagine if it were Michael…if he were taken from me…” Tears glistened in Genie’s eyes, and Audrey felt a stroke of guilt. Genie was indeed madly in love with Michael, and he with her, and Audrey knew the pair of them believed the same regard existed between her and Philip. Childhood friends who grew to be lovers. And while Audrey did love Philip, it had been a chore to put on the façade of deeper, truer love. She simply couldn’t match the way Genie looked at Michael with such blatant admiration and longing. It tended to leave her feeling like a fraud.
“I’m worried for him,” Audrey admitted, again feeling too cool and bland in the face of Genie’s emotional reaction.
“Of course, you are,” she replied. “Michael told me Philip isn’t speaking. That he’s in some horrible stupor.”
Audrey nodded, saying nothing of her visit to the Brown Bear earlier, or the fact that he had broken his silence—at least with her. She didn’t want Michael to know of her visit. He would not approve, and his censure was not something she needed.
“If he cannot defend himself—” Genie started to say.
“Please, stop.” Audrey closed her eyes. She had already gone over every possibility during her sleepless night. If Philip was not deemed fit to stand trial in the House of Lords, he might be proclaimed insensible. Insane. He would be sent away to an asylum most likely. It had been one of his most intense fears, ever since he’d lost someone once before to such an institution.
