Page 5 of A Murder in Mayfair
“Thank you for saying that, dear.”
Pursing her lips, Grandmother vigorously stirred a lump of sugar into her cup. “I don’t know how you expect to marry, Rosalynd. Not only are you dangerously close to being firmly on the shelf, but you’ve gained a reputation as a reformeranda bluestocking. No gentleman of breeding will offer for you.”
I sighed. We’d held the same discussion so many times I’d lost count. “I don’t intend to marry, Grandmother, as you know.”
She cast a gimlet eye on me. “And what pray tell do you mean to do with your life?”
“I will continue to attend to my sisters’ studies and well-being, as well as Fox’s. As you can see,” I gazed around the room at my siblings, most of whom were busy scarfing down the food, “they lead very contented lives.”
“Their upbringing is Cosmos’s responsibility, not yours.” My older brother had inherited the earldom after our father’s death. While he’d taken on the financial and estate management duties that came along with the title, the responsibility for our younger siblings’ upbringing had fallen to me.
“He’s busy with his botanical efforts, ma’am.”
“Plants and flowers? What sort of vocation is that for a grown man? And an earl at that?”
“He’s an expert on the subject, so much so, Scotland Yard regularly consults with him. Why, just last week, they approached him about a substance discovered during a postmortem. His expertise helped the police prove the victim had been poisoned by his wife.”
“Postmortem? You mean a dead body?”
“Well, I certainly hope he was dead before they cut into him.”
Grandmother’s brows took a hike. “You have no sensibilities, my girl.” Leaning heavily on her cane, she came to her feet. “I’m taking my leave. The Sowerby soiree is tonight, and I need myrest.” She might be in her eighties, but she enjoyed a busy social schedule. “Don’t forget we are to attend Lady Cholmondley-Smith’s ball on Thursday.”
“I won’t.” I stood as well. “Children, come say goodbye to your grandmother.” They swarmed around her skirts, some no doubt leaving sticky fingermarks on her gown. But her gaze softened as she patted heads and kissed cheeks. As much of a martinet as she appeared to be, she had a soft spot for the children.
When she and I said our goodbyes at the house entrance, she turned a kind gaze on me. “You’ll miss them, you know, once they’re grown and leave the nest.”
“I’ll play aunt to their children.”
Her gaze filled with pity. “It won’t be enough, Rosalynd, not nearly enough. Beware lest you end up all alone, wondering where your life went wrong.”
Chapter
Two
LADY CHOLMONDLEY-SMITH’S BALL
Going by the crush of bodies in Lady Cholmondley-Smith’s ballroom, the second ball of the season was a smashing success. One could hardly walk through the throng without the fear of stepping on toes.
If I had my druthers, I would have gladly stayed home, reading a book, while enjoying a cup of strong tea. But as Chrissie’s older sister, I had a duty to perform—shepherding her through the myriad of social events. Even this early in the season, she’d proven to be a popular debutante. So much so, her dance card had been filled within minutes of our arrival. It didn’t surprise me in the least. She was beautiful, intelligent, and a wonderful conversationalist, mainly because she let the gentlemen do all the talking. As long as she listened, nodded, and occasionally exclaimed, “How wonderful,” they were satisfied.
“Heavens, what a crush!” Lady Claire Edmunds exclaimed once we found each other. One of my closest friends, she and I had made our debut eight years ago. Highly sought after during that season, she’d received several offers of marriage. Her fatherhad chosen a wealthy marquis in need of an heir. The fact he’d been in his fifties, drank copiously, and suffered from gout had not been taken into account. Two years ago, he’d keeled over during a vigorous bout of lovemaking, leaving Lady Claire with a country estate, a Mayfair mansion, and a generous widow’s jointure.
“It is rather,” I answered vigorously fanning myself. Due to the multitude of bodies, the air was downright steamy, something I abhorred. “Let us walk toward the terrace. There should be cooler air there by its doors.”
“You do look a bit flushed.” After linking arms, we made our way around the perimeter of the room. Along the way, we were greeted with nods and smiles, but didn’t stop until we reached our destination.
The air indeed was noticeably cooler by the terrace, even though its doors remained closed. “Oh, that’s better.” I never could stand the heat.
“You’d think with this many people there’d be at least one interesting man in sight,” Claire said, glancing around.
A grieving widow, she was not. And I couldn’t blame her. After years of servitude to a randy peer, she was thoroughly enjoying her freedom.
Her gaze suddenly narrowed. “Oh, wait. One just arrived.”
“Who?”
“The Duke of Steele. By the receiving line.” She turned to me. “You’ve heard of him, of course.”
