Page 52 of Murder at the Seven Dials
Mr. Marsden walked with her into the corridor. “I don’t know, but I doubt this was a simple burglary gone wrong. The method of the attack on Mr. Bernadetto…” He sighed. “It matches the type of wounds Miss Lovejoy sustained.”
Gooseflesh spread along her arms, and she tripped to a stop as her spirits gave an expected jump. “Then that proves Philip is innocent. He’s locked up right now, it couldn’t have been him.”
Mr. Marsden turned to face her. “It proves nothing.”
“But surely if both attacks are the same—”
“The inquest for Bernadetto won’t be for a few days, and until then there is no evidence to link the two murders other than a heavily mutilated throat.”
Carrigan took a step closer to Audrey in the corridor, as if to protect her from some invisible foe. No, not invisible. The murderer had been just on the other side of that office door.
Mr. Marsden, too, stepped closer. He lowered his voice, his expression one of smoldering wrath. “He knew we were coming here this morning, and he got to Bernadetto before we could.”
She shook her head. “That’s impossible, I told no one but you and my maid and Carrigan. Who did you tell?”
He grimaced and searched the corridor behind her. “Just Basil.”
Audrey frowned, curious. “Who is Basil?”
“My valet. He can be trusted.”
He employed a valet? Audrey puzzled over a Bow Street officer being able to afford a staff. Then again, his personal life was none of her business.
“Our voices might have carried last night in the drive at Violet House,” she suggested. “There was a man watching, after all.”
“Not at that point. Sir would have seen him.”
Audrey frowned again. He certainly placed a lot of stock into this Sir.
Mr. Marsden turned to her driver. “Carrigan, correct? There is an unknown man following Her Grace. She’s spotted him twice now outside Violet House. Do you have any footmen who could check the perimeter of the property on an hourly basis throughout the night?”
Audrey simmered as Carrigan seemed to grow taller, his shoulders broader, and his expression flattened to something deadly serious.
“I’ll speak to the butler. We’ll be sure no one steps foot on the property and that Her Grace has someone with her at all times.”
Audrey glared at them both. “Her Graceis right here, and I will decide if I require a guard.”
Mr. Marsden growled with impatience. “There is a dead body in the room behind us,Your Grace. What more do you need to convince you?”
The mention of a dead body should have captured her attention, but it was his emphasis onYour Gracethat did instead. For whatever reason, hearing it made her recall the way he’d instead shouted her given name when he’d heard her scream earlier. She didn’t know why it flustered her so much.
Audrey forced herself to forget it.
“Mr. Bernadetto was likely killed because the murderer made a mistake,” she said. “He left something behind. Some clue.”
She had made a mistake too. Back in the theatre manager’s office, she should have kept her wits about her and hunted down an object, some possession of Mr. Bernadetto’s to help her see something informative. Instead, she’dswooned.
“I agree,” Mr. Marsden said, surprising her. “And I have an idea who to question about it.”
She straightened her shoulders. “I’ll come with you.”
“You’re not invited. But before I leave, I’ll escort you home.”
Audrey clenched her hands into fists and resisted the urge to stomp her foot. “There is no need. I have Carrigan.” She set her shoulders. “Besides, I’m not afraid, Mr. Marsden.”
“Then someone ought to be afraid for you.”
He tipped the brim of his hat and disappeared back into the theatre manager’s office.
