Page 41 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
A witness.
He might be the only person alive who’d seen Elsie’s killer. And now he was out there, somewhere in the city.
I didn’t know his name. Didn’t know where he’d go. But I had to find him.
Before he ended up dead and took his secret with him.
Chapter
Sixteen
THE QUIET BEFORE THE STORM
Light spilled through the lace-draped windows of our drawing room, catching on the gilt edges of picture frames and playing over the white linen laid out for tea. The scent of Ceylon tea drifted through the air, faintly floral, with just a hint of spice. I poured with care, steadying my hand even as my thoughts refused to do the same. It was nearly half-past three, and I had yet to hear from Steele.
Last night he’d sent a note detailing his meeting with Constable Collins and what he’d uncovered. We were meant to meet again—to discuss our next steps and chart a proper course. And yet, today had stretched on with no message, no word, nothing but silence. I told myself it was only impatience. But beneath the surface, something far more unsettling had begun to stir—unease.
“Rosalynd,” Grandmother said, her voice clipped but not unkind. “Is anything the matter? You’ve been stirring the same cup for a full minute.”
She sat in her high-backed armchair by the fire, a tartan shawl tucked around her shoulders and an expression that suggested she found me mildly inadequate.
I looked up at once, forcing a smile. “No, Grandmother. Only thinking.”
She gave a faint harrumph, the sort that implied thinking was fine in moderation but best left to men and philosophers.
“You do seem rather worried, Rosie,” Chrissie added from across the room, glancing up from her fashion journal. “You’ve gone all pale around the eyes.”
I needed to come up with something quickly before my entire family launched a full interrogation.
“I’ve a slight headache, that’s all.”
Naturally, my botanist brother saw this as an opportunity to offer one of his remedies.
“You ought to try willow bark,” Cosmos said, glancing up from the fire where he was poking the coals. “Steeped in hot water with a pinch of mint. Far more effective than laudanum—and less likely to send you into wild imaginings.”
“Thank you, Cosmos. I’ll take it under advisement.” As the minutes ticked by, my fingers twitched with the urge to write Steele again. Or storm Steele House. Or set a hound on his trail, preferably one with a keen nose and no regard for social niceties.
Pity we didn’t own a hound.
“She’s waiting for something,” Laurel murmured, eyes on her book. She was curled into the corner of a settee, nose buried in a slim volume whose spine I couldn’t quite make out. I sincerely hoped it wasn’t one of those scandalous tales she so adored. Where she managed to find them remained a mystery.
Someone,” Fox corrected quietly. He sat beside Laurel, silent and sharp-eyed, his gaze flicking from face to face with the calm detachment of someone who’d once preferred to be invisible. When he first arrived in London, he barely spoke a word toanyone—still bruised, I suspected, from the ordeal that saw him sent down from school. But over the past month, he’d begun joining us for tea, offering the occasional observation with unnerving precision. He missed nothing. And now, increasingly, I found myself unsettled by just how well he seemed to read the room and everyone in it.
My imaginary headache was fast becoming a reality. I opened my mouth to reply—but was saved by the sound of footsteps in the hall. Measured. Familiar.
Honeycutt appeared in the doorway, his expression perfectly unreadable.
“A visitor, milady. Lady Edmunds.”
My breath escaped in a rush. Just what I needed.
A moment later, Claire swept into the room as if she’d been invited by royal decree. She was clad in a plum-colored walking dress trimmed in sable, her hat set at an angle daring enough to defy gravity. Her cheeks were pink from the cold—or possibly delight at catching us unawares.
“Forgive me,” she said, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Idohope I’m not intruding. I happened to be passing and thought—why not drop in and see my dearest friends?”
Grandmother looked up, cool as ever. “How very . . . spontaneous.”
Before I could muster a greeting, Cosmos sprang to his feet.
