Page 20 of The Highland Heist
But Lillias? She didn’t even like to read!
Grace inhaled sharply, her mind racing. Perhapsnotreading such stories had left her sister ill-equipped for life’s darker troubles. Without a healthy dose of fictional woes, maybe Lillias’ frustration had no proper outlet. A woman who never confronted imaginary perils might flounder in the face of real ones.
Truth be told, Grace had survived so many imaginary dangers, some of the real ones paled in comparison.
Thankfully, Miss Steen didn’t seem to notice Grace’s internal monologue, because she simply continued her answer, keeping her focus on Frederick.
“You can’t really blame the woman,” Miss Steen said, with a tone suggesting she could blame her quite easily. “Her husband was practically leaking money they didn’t have. And she, being one of those high-and-mighty sorts, wanted to live in a certain way.” She sent Grace a pointed look which only coiled the knot more tightly in Grace’s stomach. “It was a mismatch from the start, I’d say. He didn’t have the money to give her the life she wanted, and she didn’t have the patience to manage life with less. Someone was going to break eventually.”
Grace had read enough novels to steel herself against cavalier discussions of death—or so she thought. Her pulse betrayed her, racing ahead. Miss Steen’s blunt assessment of Lillias and Tony’s differences brought into sharp focus what Grace had been avoiding: the glaring plausibility of her sister’s motive.
Grace hadn’t considered—really considered—how deeply Lillias might have been affected by her circumstances. When they’d switched roles, Grace stepping into Lillias’ place to marry Frederick, and Lillias marrying her child’s father, Tony, the decision had seemed practical. The righting of a wrong.
But Lillias had been groomed for a world of gowns, servants, and soirées. Reduced circumstances might have felt like exile. And Father’s financial ruin had made her position even more precarious.
But gowns and ballrooms don’t lead to murder. Grace’s breath hinged. Or did they?
She almost cringed.
And moral lapses weren’t the same as murder, surely? Lillias’ decision to deceive an earl and marry Tony hadn’t been stellar, but Grace hadn’t placed it in the same league as homicide. Then again, she and Frederick had encountered villains in their sleuthing—Celia Blackmore Percy had killed for status, Charles Smallwood for riches, and Daniel Laraby’s treasure hunt had left bodies—including his own—in its wake.
The desire for money was terribly powerful.
And Grace’s myriad fictional references only proved this all the more.
Determined to steer the conversation away from her sister, Grace leaned forward. “Were there any other possibilities? Someone who might have had a grudge against Mr. Dixon? Or perhaps Mrs. Dixon?”
Miss Steen tilted her head, unruffled. “Hard to say. Dixon was well-liked, far as I know. Though I wouldn’t know much about his gambling crowd.”
Frederick swept in with another question, likely noting Grace’s befuddlement. “Is there a chance the murder was part of a robbery? Did the Dixons have anything worth stealing?”
Grace offered him a grateful smile. Yes. There was another possibility. Especially with the nasty false officer slinking around.
“I suppose there’s always that chance.” The woman offered a nonchalant shrug. “The Dixons had more of the nicer things in their home than others in the neighborhood. Things that Mrs. Dixon brought from her father’s house.”
Oh, so perhaps her family hadn’t lost all those wonderful heirlooms after all.
“What sorts of things?” Grace rushed ahead and quickly returned to a more “detective” character. “What would you have considered worth stealing, especially knowing the neighborhood as you do?”
Miss Steen puffed up a little at the comment, lifting her chin in thought. “Well, it’s the usual things, except their home would have been prime pickings. What with the nice paintings and furniture. Even some of Mrs. Dixon’s fine jewelry.” Miss Steen nodded. “Some jealous or even clever neighbor or person within the social circles they frequented could have, I suppose, entered the house with that in mind.”
The glint in Miss Steen’s eyes as she mentioned Lillias’ jewelry caught Grace’s attention. Perhaps, Miss Steen wasn’t as innocent as she appeared either. Or at least, Grace could focus on an option other than her sister.
“That information brings us to this morning.” Frederick continued, looking all the more delightful with his tie just a little crooked. “Could you tell us your schedule before you arrived to find Mr. Dixon deceased?”
Miss Steen stiffened. “I ain’t done nothing wrong.”
“And I’m not implying you did,” Frederick soothed. “We’re simply trying to establish a timeline.”
Miss Steen exhaled and nodded. “I got up early, had breakfast, then met Mrs. Dixon in her sitting room to collect the baby.”
“And Mrs. Dixon seemed … well?” Grace pressed.
“As well as she ever was,” Miss Steen replied, frowning. “She wasn’t exactly cheerful. Always sad or angry about something—likely all the reasons I’ve already said.”
“What happened next?” Frederick asked.
“I dressed the baby and took him for a walk in Carrollton Park.”
