Page 32 of Murder in Matrimony
Devotedly,
Brown Thumb
Dear Brown Thumb,
Our weather presents certain challenges to be sure, but I believe I have the perfect flower for you: the chrysanthemum. Few if any plants are so accommodating. For large, colorful blooms, make sure you allow no more than three buds on the stem. Keep watered, especially in warm weather, and fertilize three times a week. That is all one must do to keep the pretty plant alive. Let me know if you succeed.
Yours in Secret,
Lady Agony
The next day, Simon and his sister, Marielle Bainbridge, collected Amelia for Lady Applegate’s garden soiree, which was to include the unveiling of her latest statuary. At the Bainbridge dinner party, she had promised that the piece would eclipse even her best works. Amelia wasn’t sure what Lady Applegate considered her best work, but if she had to guess, the newest lawn ornament would be large and garish and supremely fun to look at.
But Amelia wouldn’t be only looking at lawn ornaments. She planned to see if Lady Applegate showed any signs of guilt after Amelia’s near miss with a hansom cab yesterday. Shewould also be looking at her linens for a handkerchief such as the one that was left behind on Down Street.
She hadn’t had the opportunity to tell Simon about the ordeal yet and perhaps never would if he and his sister kept arguing the way they were. He’d barely acknowledged her as she climbed into the carriage, pausing only a moment to smile at her before returning to one of his favorite subjects as of late: Lord Traber—Marielle’s romantic interest. He was moving too fast for Simon’s liking, but the end of the season was approaching, and they’d been courting for a month. If Lord Traber didn’t propose this season, he surely would next.
“I simply do not understand why he suggested taking you when he knew very well that I was going myself.” Simon pulled at his collar. “Applegate put me on the spot at dinner the other night, and the entire table heard my affirmation—despite my wholehearted desire not to go.”
“Perhaps you should have stayed home.” Marielle tilted her chin, and it looked almost as square as Simon’s. Her black hair was the same, and her emerald eyes mirrored his.
“Perhaps you are right. Perhaps we should turn the carriage around.”
“You wouldn’t,” exclaimed Marielle.
“I would.” Simon’s black eyelashes created a smoky haze over his green eyes, and the siblings stared at each other like two tigers deciding which one would scratch first.
Tired of their sparring, Amelia announced, “I was almost killed yesterday. By a hansom cab. On a walk.”
That got their attention.
“Amelia.” Simon reached across the carriage for her gloved hands.
Marielle asked, “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine, as you can see, but it rattled me.” Amelia sighed. “I was a hair’s breadth from the carriage wheel, and the driver didn’t even bother to stop.”
Simon turned her hands over, as if examining them for physical harm, then squeezed. “The driver should be arrested. To encroach upon a lady and not even stop. It’s deplorable.”
“Reckless and unconscionable,” agreed Marielle. “People operate under a perpetual rush. I hardly walk anywhere these days.”
“You would do well to follow my sister’s example.” Simon frowned. “This town is no place for pedestrians.”
Actually, London was the perfect place for pedestrians—if they watched where they were going. Amelia loved her morning walks on London’s streets. She would no more quit them than quit her letters. Here was life in its most intimate setting. Houses came to life with activity; vendors materialized from invisible alleys; carts rolled out with colorful goods. She learned more about people in that precious hour than all the parties this season. She would dodge a hundred cabs before she gave it up.
The Bainbridge carriage halted in front of the Applegates’ home. As soon as the footman put down the stairs, Marielle was off to find Lord Traber. Simon and Amelia followed at a slower pace.
Simon paused on their approach to the lawn. “Are you certain you are fine?”
“I am, but there is more to this story than I could mention in front of Lady Marielle.” Amelia quickly relayed the specifics as well as her suspicions about Lord and Lady Applegate. It was possible the incident was an accident, but it was also possible that the incident was arranged by the blackmailer as a warning.
“If that is true, one of the Applegates could be your blackmailer,” he surmised.
“Yes.” Spotting a new twitch in his jaw, she added, “Which is why we must remain calm and use this outing to our advantage. With everyone outside in the garden, we might have a chance to peer into a writing desk or catch a glance at the sewing basket. We might find material that matches the handkerchief.”
“If we do, rest assured I’ll box Lord Applegate’s ears for terrorizing you the way he did yesterday.”
“You’ll do nothing of the sort.” Her voice relayed her growing exasperation. Simon was rational when it came to allsubjects—except her. His chivalry was growing irksome. “You’ll tell me straightaway, and we’ll formulate a plan. Lord Drake came to me yesterday about turning himself in.”
