Page 19 of Murder in Matrimony
Amelia shrugged wordlessly into a deep green cape, a shorter article she enjoyed wearing in the summer months. Her instinct was to rush to thank Tabitha, but she resisted. Tonight would be a first for the Bainbridges, and whether she had anything to do with it hardly mattered. Her own need for acceptance shouldn’t be the focus. For if she was honest, she still saw herself as an outsider, and no matter how many times she told herself Edgar had chosen her for that reason, it didn’t matter. Somewhere deep inside, she wanted to belong to a world she loved so much, a world that she still held at some distance because of the difference.
It was impossible to forget she and Simon were dissimilar in that way, and while he praised her uniqueness, sometimes she worried it would become an obstacle in their burgeoning relationship. At one time, Tabitha had thought it might, and no matter how much Amelia disagreed with her, she respected her opinion too much to dismiss it. Tabitha was a pillar of society and knew its peccadillos as well as Amelia did her dailyletters. Still, Amelia felt warmed by her praise, basking in it all the way to the Bainbridges’ home in Berkeley Square.
The Bainbridge drawing room was filled with elegant guests who, like Tabitha, appeared pleased to be invited by the illusive duke. Since his wife’s death many years ago, Christopher Bainbridge had shut his doors to society only to open them many years later for his daughter’s first season. Since Marielle Bainbridge’s trouble with suitor George Davies, however, the duke had been much more considerate of her feelings. Indeed, the affair had led to a change in the household, one for the better, according to Simon. They were taking dinner together again, a tradition that had long been forgotten, and repairing the years of neglect one day at a time.
After being welcomed by His Grace, Amelia rushed to meet one guest in particular, Kitty Hamsted, who was dressed in a silk black-and-white gown with double-puffed sleeves and a bow at her waist that emphasized its smallness. At her wrist dangled a matching fan that, when used, drew attention to her periwinkle-blue eyes, the only color on her entire person. The effect was utterly striking.
Kitty invited her into her circle with a gracious smile. “Lady Amesbury, good evening.”
“Good evening.” Amelia dipped her chin. “Mrs. Hamsted, your dress is beyond compare.”
“Isn’t it?” said Lady Applegate, whose daughter, Constance, was also in attendance. It was her first season, and she and Marielle had become fast friends. “I hope by standing next to her, her elan will rub off on me.” She covered a little snort with a plump hand. “My fashion choices have never been popular.”
Amelia bit back a chuckle. Lady Applegate was not the most fashionable woman in the room, and in fact, probably the least, despite going to great lengths with her attire. She wore an expensive yellow gown that was more mustard than golden, and her usually pink cheeks, which were pretty and round, looked sallow. But her eyes were full of life, an aqua blue that made up for her dull complexion.
“Not true,” said Kitty generously. “Your parties are very popular.”
Kitty was being kind. They were popular, yes, but for theirunusualness. Lady Applegate had gone to the same great lengths with her house, and her yard was a menagerie of statues and fountains that didn’t quite make sense. Every year thetonlooked forward to a new lawn ornament, which she never failed to reveal before her yearly ball. It was very like an accident that one couldn’t resist watching unfold.
Lady Applegate flourished a yellow-gloved hand. “It’s my husband’s family’s ancient house. I can lay no claim to its beauty, although I have had a hand in the statuary, which, by the way, has gained a new resident. My husband intends to mention it at dinner.”
“I heard yours was one of the homes burgled this spring by the Mayfair Marauder,” put in Lady Catherine, who stood next to her. Her voice was nasal, and everything she said had a distasteful tone. “Dreadful business.”
“Indeed.” Lady Applegate’s cheeks puffed with offense, looking less sallow. “We were ransacked by the scoundrel. Just imagine, a thief going through my things!” She put a hand to her ample chest.
The house was not ransacked. One piece of jewelry was taken, albeit an expensive piece. More importantly in Amelia’s mind, it was returned. She made a pointed comment to this fact. “I thought the thief returned all the stolen items in a gallant gesture of apology.”
“Hardly gallant, in my opinion.” Lady Catherine sniffed, which emphasized the pointiness of her nose.
“I think it was incredibly gallant.” The blonde curls above Kitty’s ears shook with disagreement. “Stealing a jewel is one thing. The payoff is worth the risk. But to return a jewel without discovery? That took courage and selflessness. What obligation did the thief have to do so?”
Lord Applegate, who stood a few steps from his wife, had been listening and now joined the conversation. “Why, he was forced into it by that Lady Agony character. Have you heard of her?”
Kitty murmured ayes, and Amelia nodded noncommittally.
“Of course we have,” said Lady Catherine. “She’s made quite a name for herself.”
“Not all good.” Lady Applegate harrumphed.
“She ought to reveal his name. Those who have been burgled have a right to know who unlawfully entered their home.” Lord Applegate, a heavy-set man with a blustery voice and untrimmed side whiskers, turned to Amelia. “Don’t you agree, Lady Amesbury? Your house was one of those robbed. What’s your opinion?”
Amelia counted to five before responding. She knew what sheshouldsay to protect her identity. Yes, the thief should absolutely be revealed. But the reply stuck in her throat, not quite wanting to come out. “I am pleased the jewel was returned. That’s what matters to me. Had it not been, I might feel differently.”
“Still,” Lord Applegate continued, “any concerned citizen would appreciate being forewarned of the culprit. As they say, forewarned is forearmed.”
Amelia’s heartbeat doubled. Anyconcerned citizen? The blackmailer had signed his name A Concerned Citizen. Could the Applegates be the blackmailers? Was Lord Applegate testing her now?
“True,” answered Amelia, studying his reaction while trying to mask her own. “Preparation is key in any crisis.”
“Quite so.” Lord Applegate looked pleased with her answer, his evening jacket stretching with self-satisfaction. “The authoress has obviously let her popularity go to her head. This is a matter for the Metropolitan Police, not a lady.”
“If she is a lady, which I doubt.” Lady Catherine slid a glance at Kitty. “I do not know of a peer among us who would give out such extraordinary advice.”
Kitty’s cheeks flushed with anger. She was not as comfortable as Amelia was with people criticizing her alter ego. “Perhaps not, but perhaps it is that advice which makes her so popular.”
“Not for long if she keeps the name of the Mayfair Marauder to herself,” Lady Applegate added. “I know of three people who have quit their subscriptions already.”
The comment gave Amelia pause. Her dear friend Grady Armstrong relied on subscriptions to the paper. She knewkeeping the name to herself could affect her readership, and even her identity, but she hadn’t thought about what it would mean for the magazine. If angered readers quit their subscriptions, it would affect Grady’s profits.
