Page 52 of A Murder, a Marquess, and Miss Mifford
"And I did not tell you that I was with Ethel, for I did not wish to embarrass her," Sir Cadogan added, glaring fiercely in Freddie's direction, "But that appears to have been a waste, for you have done it for us."
Freddie felt his cheeks flame; he was a fool of the highest order. Why had he believed himself capable of solving a murder? He should have left well enough alone.
"Now, Sir Cadogan," Northcott interrupted, his voice soothing, "I understand your upset, but Lord Chambers is a man in love, and he believed that he was rescuing the object of his affections from scandal. We cannot berate him too harshly; smitten men do the strangest things."
Like marrying beneath their title for money.
Northcott did not say it, but the implication was there. He was offering Sir Cadogan a pass should he marry Ethel; social acceptance for a former maid, from one of the highest ranking men in the country. It was not an offer to be sniffed at.
"I would like a public apology," Sir Cadogan said, after a moment's deliberation. He did not look pleased to have been strong armed into forgiving Freddie, but as he wasn't in the best of shape, this was a better result than a duel to defend his honour.
"Naturally," Northcott bowed his head, to hide the smile which tugged at his lips. Sir Cadogan had been easy enough to manipulate.
"I should like one too," Mr Fitzgibbons interrupted, "I was also falsely accused."
"With good reason," Freddie could not help but retort, "You threatened to kill the woman, then you provided a representative of the law with a false alibi. All this might not have happened, had you been honest from the off."
"I was protecting my beloved's reputation," Mr Fitzgibbons replied, with a pout, but he did not force the matter further.
With everything wrapped up neatly, Northcott gave the three gentlemen a smile.
"Shall we return to the ball? I know my wife will be eager to see matters resolved."
Guilt pierced Freddie at this statement; he had ruined not only Miss Mifford's night, but her sister's too.
Freddie followed the other men from the room, back to the ballroom. As they entered, there was a slight lull in conversation, and all eyes turned to them.
"My apologies, sir," Freddie said loudly, offering his hand to Sir Cadogan, "I was mistaken, and you are most magnanimous to forgive me."
Sir Cadogan took Freddie's hand and gave it a rather limp shake--though he did preen at being called munificent by one of his betters. Once he had decided that Freddie had debased himself enough, he let go of his hand and disappeared into the crowd.
"Don't look too glum," Northcott whispered in Freddie's ear, "Your heart was in the right place."
"It's just my brain that wasn't," Freddie snorted, but offered the duke a smile of thanks nonetheless.
"I had best go in search of my beloved, there's no telling what she might have decided to do to distract from the drama," Northcott muttered, looking somewhat worried. The duchess, Freddie deduced, could be something of a loose cannon.
Northcott hurried off and Freddie waved down a passing footman. His tray held glasses of sparkling wine, but Freddie's nerves required something stronger.
"Is there any chance you could find me something with a bit more bite?" he queried, palming the young lad a coin.
"Of course, my lord," he replied, and quickly disappeared.
He returned in jig-time, bearing a double brandy, which Freddie received with thanks. Not wanting to cause further scandal, by being seen drinking such hard liquor after his disastrous performance earlier, Freddie made for the French doors on the far side of the room.
Outside, he found the terrace empty and the night air cool. Freddie strolled quietly towards the steps which led down to the formal gardens, and at the bottom of them he found a secluded bench where he might drink in peace.
He took a deep sip of his brandy, then another, and once the tension of the last few minutes had left his body, he allowed his mind to wander.
His list of possible suspects for the murder contained no names now that Sir Cadogan and Mr Fitzgibbons had been eliminated from it. He might never discover who it was that had murdered the baroness, which meant that poor Emily would always bear the brunt of people's suspicion.
Unless...
Something niggled at the back of Freddie's mind, and he took another deep sip of his brandy to see if that might summon it to the fore.
Both Sir Cadogan and Mr Fitzgibbons had been heard professing a wish to murder Lady Hardthistle, but what was it Mr Mifford had said?
Quite often the culprit is the man who had said nothing at all.
