Page 72 of A Murder in Mayfair
A vanished tea packet. A visiting cousin. A note no one could verify.
And a house full of people. Maybe one with something to lose.
Chapter
Thirty
RETURN TO ROSEHAVEN HOUSE
The carriage rolled to a smooth halt beneath the portico of Rosehaven House just as the final blush of daylight faded from the sky. I descended without assistance, my thoughts still churning with unanswered questions and the quiet menace of what I had discovered at Walsh House. The front door opened before I could lift a hand to knock.
Mr. Honeycutt—ever precise, ever composed—greeted me with his customary bow. "Lady Rosalynd. Welcome home."
I handed him my coat, gloves, and hat. Mindful of the police officer present, I simply asked, “How is Lady Walsh faring?”
"She remains in her rooms, milady. Her supper was taken up not long ago. Our housekeeper reports that she ate a modest amount and has retired with a book."
“Has she received any visitors?”
“Mr. Hanover.”
I gave a small nod, relieved. Julia’s solicitor would do his utmost to see justice done. “Thank you, Mr. Honeycutt."
With no time to waste, I crossed the hall and made for the morning room. Its curtains were drawn tight, something Iappreciated as the evening had turned quite chilly. Moving to the writing desk, I quickly retrieved pen, ink, and a sheet of thick cream paper. With measured strokes, I began to write:
Steele,
I’ve returned from Walsh House and have learned much—though far from everything.
The tea packet was delivered to the study while Edwin Heller was present. Mr. Anstruther, the Walsh House butler, placed it on Charles’s desk. It disappeared from the study and reappeared hours later in the morning room, where a housemaid retrieved it and brought it to Cook. The note attached was in an unfamiliar hand and directed that the tea was only to be brewed for Charles’s tea.
Cook confirms it was not locked away but simply kept on a shelf. Anyone could have tampered with it before it was brewed this morning.
Also of note: Mr. Heller has not returned since his visit and could not be found at his Duke Street lodgings.
Please come as soon as you can so we can discuss what I learned. I will wait for you, no matter the hour.
—R.
I folded the letter, wrote Steele’s name on the envelope, and pressed my seal to the wax with a firm hand. The moment it cooled, I rang the bell to summon Honeycutt.
As soon as he appeared, I handed it to him. “Please see that it’s delivered immediately.”
“Of course, milady.” He bowed. “Supper is being served.”
“Thank you, Mr. Honeycutt.” I allowed a small smile to form on my lips. “I don’t know if I’ve said this enough. But you are a treasure.”
“Milady.” I thought I detected a blush on his cheeks as he bowed once more.
After smoothing my skirts, I made my way to the dining room where my family was already gathered. The chandelier glowed overhead, casting warm light over porcelain and polished silver.
Chrissie was positively glowing—chattering about her debut with all the youthful delight of someone who had never tasted real worry. Petunia listened wide-eyed, soaking it all in, while Cosmos presided at the head of the table like a general surveying his troops.
I took my seat and offered a smile, joining the conversation without revealing the storm that churned beneath my calm facade.
Talk turned to gowns and dance cards, to whether Chrissie might waltz with Viscount Darrow or catch the eye of a certain baron’s eldest son.
“You’ve been quiet, Rosalynd,” Cosmos observed after the fish course was served. “Anything I ought to know about?”
