Page 34 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
Your Grace,I began, my hand steady despite the turmoil in my heart,
I talked to Marie, a friend of Elsie’s. Elsie worked in a house of quality, not as a lady’s maid but with access to the household’s private affairs. She possessed skill with a needle and was trusted with the master’s garments. Someone in that household preyed upon her, got her with child, and then shunned her. She left abruptly—fled, more accurately—after overhearing something she would not share. Yesterday, she received the note we’ve seen, the one you discovered. I believe someone connected to that house wrote that note. Not with kindness, but with evil intent. Whether it was related to her pregnancy or what she overheard, she couldn’t be allowed to live. And so, they silenced her forever.
I had just blotted the final line of my note when a brisk knock came at the door—followed immediately by it swinging open without so much as a pause.
I looked up, entirely unsurprised. “I was under the impression that knocking involved waiting.”
Chrissie breezed in with a grin, her cheeks flushed. “Yes, well. I suspected you might be in need of a distraction. And lo—I was right.”
Setting my pen aside, I folded my hands in my lap. “Should I be alarmed?” In this household, one never knew. It could be aninvitation to tea—or a warning that the drawing room curtains were on fire.
She dropped into the nearest armchair with theatrical flair, dramatically clasping her hands. “Cosmos has invited a dinner guest. A special one. I thought it best to prepare you.”
I arched a brow. “Go on.”
“Dr. Nathaniel Vale,” she announced with a sigh. “Botanist. Scholar. Master of medicinal plants and, I fear, dull conversation.”
The name stirred something faint in my memory, though it wasn’t familiar enough to catch hold. “Is Cosmos attempting to bore us into submission?”
“That is precisely what I said when I found out,” she replied. “Apparently, they’ve been corresponding about some plant that resembles ivy but paralyzes you if you so much as sniff it. I’ve already resigned myself to becoming part of the dining room wallpaper.”
I bit back a smile. “And what of Dr. Vale himself?”
“Oh, he’s a second son. The oldest inherited the title. Very proper. He probably polishes his spectacles before speaking.”
“Sounds . . . scholarly.”
“Sounds insufferable,” she muttered. “Cosmos is in raptures. I intend to bring a book to read under the table.”
She rose with a rustle of skirts and moved toward the door. “Dress nicely, by the way. Cosmos wants us to make a good impression, though heaven knows why.”
“Chrissie,” I said gently, just as she reached the threshold.
She turned, her expression softening.
“Thank you for the warning.”
Her face grew more serious, touched with concern. “You’ve had a rather bleak night and day of it. I thought a bit of absurdity might do you good.”
I offered the faintest smile. “It does.”
When the door clicked shut behind her, I turned back to the sealed letter on my desk, brushing my fingertips along its edge. I wondered what Steele would make of it and whether he would agree with me. Well, I would never find out unless I sent it.
I crossed into the adjoining dressing room, where Tilly was already laying out my gown and underthings with her usual quiet efficiency.
“For the duke,” I said, holding out the letter. “Please see that it’s sent to Steele House without delay.”
“Yes, milady.” Tilly gave a small curtsy before hurrying off to find a footman.
Left alone once more, I turned to the mirror—where a rather tired, rumpled version of myself gazed back.
Time to make myself presentable.
Chapter
Fourteen
THE BOTANIST’S TABLE
