Page 11 of Silence of Deceit
Mrs. Simpson’s chin tightened, her lips thinned, and she again peered at the duchess as if she were an enemy.
“Mother,” Mary said softly. “Connection to whom?”
“Your Grace, I am afraid you are misinformed. My daughter has not been to a retreat of any sort.”
“Mother,” Mary said again, this time more insistent. “There is no use in pretending. The duchess is quite aware.”
“Mrs. Simpson, I mean you no harm,” Audrey said quickly. “I have kept my own past with this retreat confidential, and I have no intention of sharing Mary’s stay there any more thanyouplan to share mine. Do I have that right?”
She held the woman’s direct stare as the meaning of her sentence sunk in. She hadn’t known what kind of woman Mary Simpson’s mother would be. A vapid gossip or a conniving one? Either could ruin Audrey, should the woman start whispering about the duchess’s unexpected call and what they had discussed. But she’d been willing to wager that Mrs. Simpson would do anything to keep her daughter’s stay at Shadewell secret, including promising the duchess her confidence. If she breathed one word of gossip about Audrey, her own daughter would suffer the same, if not greater, ruin.
Mrs. Simpson stiffened her spine, her eyes falling flat with loathing. “I do not know what your intentions could possibly be, but I willnotbe blackmailed again.”
Stunned, Audrey began to speak, but the maid returned with tea service, and the three ladies were made to sit quietly while the tray was delivered. Mrs. Simpson dismissed the maid curtly, and only when the room was theirs again, did Audrey continue. “You won’t be blackmailedagain? Do you mean to say someone has blackmailed you before?”
The woman huffed mirthless laughter. “As if you are unaware! Today is not the first time someone has gained entry to my home by bearingyourcard.”
Hot confusion swarmed Audrey as her mind reached for an explanation, and yet failed to grasp anything before the maid appeared within the threshold yet again.
“Mrs. Simpson, you’ve another caller. A gentleman who says he’s with Bow Street.”
The lady went bleakly pale. Mary did as well. Audrey, however, felt only impressed awe. How in the world had Hugh found his way to the Simpson household? She hadn’t once mentioned Mary Simpson to him! The only information she’d given him was the location of Delia’s boarding house. Which meant he must have found something there to bring him this way.
As he entered the receiving room, Audrey took a sip of piping hot assam. Her eyes met his over the gold-tipped brim of the cup.
He tensed one corner of his mouth; an expression that said her presence was not wholly shocking.
“Your Grace,” he said with a bob of his head before turning to the lady of house. “Mrs. Simpson, I presume.”
She sprang to her feet. “What is this about, Runner?”
Audrey cringed. Like most Bow Street officers and patrolmen, Hugh was not fond of being called “Runner.” He preferred his ranking to be used, the same as titled lords and ladies did.
“My name is Officer Marsden, and I’ve some questions for you about a woman named Delia Montgomery.” His eyes shifted toward Audrey. He likely suspected she’d already launched into her investigative questions.
“Delia?” Mary echoed, and then turned her confounded gaze to Audrey. “Is that why you’ve come as well?”
“I’m afraid so,” she replied.
“Unfortunately, I must report that Miss Montgomery has been found dead,” Hugh said quickly, as though wanting to beat Audrey to informing them. She suppressed the urge to reproach him with a glare.
“What? No!” Mary’s coloring drained even further from her cheeks. “That is…that is awful. What happened to her?”
A deep pleat formed between Mrs. Simpson’s brows. “Who is Miss Montgomery? How do you know her, Mary?”
Hugh stepped forward, his hat under his arm. “I would like to know howyouknew her, Mrs. Simpson.” From his waistcoat pocket, he withdrew a slim rectangular card. He extended it to her. Mrs. Simpson’s hand went to her throat as she accepted it.
“A few of these were found among her belongings,” he explained. “I’d like to know why.”
Audrey craned her neck, trying to see what he had handed over, while Mary stared at her mother, slack jawed. “That’s your calling card, Mama!Youvisited Delia? But…how? You don’t even know her.”
Mrs. Simpson pivoted on her heel and went toward a draped window, the card fluttering to the carpet as she dropped it.
Hugh and Audrey exchanged another thoughtful glance, his brow hitching. He then looked pointedly toward Mary. Audrey cleared her throat, understanding his silent request for an introduction.
“Officer Marsden, may I introduce Miss Mary Simpson,” she said, and the young woman, her eyes shining with tears, sniffled as she made a polite curtsey.
Then, because it would hamper their discussion much less if everyone was on the same foot, Audrey continued boldly, “Mr. Marsden is aware of my stay at Shadewell. He has vowed his silence, and he will vow the same for you, Mary. Isn’t that right, Mr. Marsden?”
