Page 75 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
Just ahead, Claire paused to admire a cluster of white blossoms nestled against the rocky slope. “Doctor Vale,” she called sweetly, “what is this charming little thing with the silver leaves? I’ve seen it in Scotland, but never here.”
Nathaniel turned obligingly toward her, already slipping into lecture mode. “Dryas octopetala, mountain avens. Grows low to the ground, thrives in cold, nutrient-poor soil . . .”
As his voice faded behind me, I let my steps slow and drifted back toward Mr. Travers, who stood slightly apart, gazing out across the cultivated beds with a satisfied squint.
“I apologize for neglecting you, Mr. Travers,” I said lightly. “You must think me inattentive.”
“Not at all, Lady Rosalynd,” he said, turning toward me with a warm smile. “I dare say you were not expecting our presence.”
“Maybe not, but one does need to make an effort to further an acquaintance. Is gardening a special interest of yours?”
He laughed. “Oh, no. The scientific terms quite overwhelm me. I’m here to support my daughter, Lady Rosalynd.” He glanced off in her direction. She and Henry were a few steps ahead, her hand curled around the crook of his arm.
“She seems very taken with Lord Henry,” I observed.
“She is,” he admitted. “Told me she knew he was ‘the one’ the night they met. At a musicale, of all places.”
I kept my tone pleasant. “And you approve?”
“Truth be told,” he said conversationally, “when Lord Henry first began calling on Lillian, I had questions.”
“Understandably so,” I murmured.
“You know how it is. We come from a different sort of money. My father laid track and kept his boots muddy. I’ve built our fortune on steel and steam, not old titles or ancient crests. So when my daughter caught the eye of a gentleman with a name like Vale . . .” He chuckled. “Well, I did my homework.”
“And what did you find?” I asked carefully.
“I was doubtful. But then I received a letter from another gentleman—Lord Phillip, brother to the Duke of Steele. Knew my solicitor somehow. Said he could personally vouch for Henry’s character.”
The air shifted around me, sharp and cold. Phillip. Steele’s younger brother. Was he somehow tied up in this?
“I see,” I said with a faint smile. “That must have been quite reassuring.”
“Oh, it was,” Mr. Travers said cheerfully. “I may not be a peer, Lady Rosalynd, but I’m no fool. If the Duke of Steele’s own brother calls a man steady and sound—well. That speaks volumes, doesn’t it?” Travers said with a shrug. “And I’ve seen no cause to worry. Henry’s been all charm and attention where Lillian’s concerned. No whispers, no trouble.”
Not yet, I thought grimly. But trouble rarely announced itself in whispers. It came in the dead of night, or slipped notes on monogrammed stationery, or girls left alone and pregnant in homes like St. Agnes.
“I hope your faith is rewarded,” I murmured.
“So do I.” He gave me a sharp, appraising look. “You seem to know a good deal about the Vale family.”
“Not nearly enough,” I said truthfully, then offered a bright smile. “But I’m learning.”
I murmured something noncommittal and allowed myself to drift back toward the others. But my thoughts refused to settle. Henry Vale, courting Miss Travers—for her dowry, most likely. If she married him, I feared she’d know nothing but heartache.
And Steele’s brother. What part had he played in all this? He’d vouched for Henry. Why? Steele hadn’t spoken of his brother at all, but I remembered the bruises, the haunted look, the things left unsaid. Did they have something to do with his brother?
Then there was Nathaniel. I’d seen a side of him today I hadn’t expected. His obsession with order, with discipline. If he demanded perfection from his flowers, what might he demand of his bloodline? Elsie would never have qualified—too common, too flawed.
A faint commotion broke through my reverie. Mr. Travers, his face filled with concern, was bending over his daughter. “Anything wrong, my dear?”
“I seem to have developed a bit of a head,” she murmured to her father, eyes glistening with tears.
“Well, then we’d best get you home. One of your remedies will have you right again.”
“Yes,” she said faintly. “That would be best.”
The party soon dispersed, each guest returning to their carriage. Claire and Cosmos lingered behind, exchanging glances, hers rich with amusement, his mesmerized.
