Page 22 of A Scandalous Bargain
“Yes. I would say a night never went by when she didn’t have multiple glasses of port. I have the receipts for the quantity I am required to purchase on a regular basis.”
Sheffield scribbled some notes in his book before looking up at Thomas once more. “How did you become aware of her infidelity?”
“It’s not uncommon knowledge.” Distaste curled through Thomas. “I don’t wish to soil her reputation now that she is gone. She is still my daughter’s mother.”
Sympathy creased Sheffield’s features. “Yes, I understand. Was she having an affair with a specific gentleman?”
“I believe so, yes. But don’t ask me who, because I don’t know for certain.” However, he had his suspicions. “I can’t imagine his identity matters.”
“Just so I may make a record, you deny pushing her?”
“I do. Emphatically.”
After writing more onto his parchment, Sheffield snapped the book closed and returned it and the pencil to his coat pocket. “You weren’t even on the balcony.”
“That’s correct.”
“Well, I thank you for your time. I’d like to speak with whomever else was home that evening. I can wait here.”
“You really want to talk with everyone in the household, even the scullery maids?” Thomas knew the answer, but hoped the man had perhaps changed his mind.
“If it’s not too much trouble. My colleague, Mr. Dearborn, is downstairs speaking with your butler and whomever else, so I can speak with anyone who hasn’t talked with him yet.”
“I’ll find out.” Thomas rose. “May I offer my congratulations on your upcoming marriage?”
Sheffield stood. “Thank you. I’d hoped you would be able to attend the breakfast, but I understand that isn’t possible.”
“My aunt tells me it is, that the ton is already wagering when I will wed again.”
“Is that your intent?” Sheffield’s eyes narrowed as he asked.
“No. My intent is to focus on my daughter, who is now without a mother. And despite what anyone says, she doesn’tneedone.” Thomas winced inwardly. In his effort to assure Sheffield that he wasn’t interested in marrying—and thus might have had a motive in wanting his wife dead—he’d indicated his daughter didn’t need a mother. Hopefully, the constable wouldn’t interpret that as a motive either.
“I’ll go and fetch someone.” Thomas took himself from the room and found the housekeeper. As soon as he told her she was to be interviewed by the constable, the poor woman had gone white with fear. Thomas had tried to reassure her that everything would be fine.
However, the truth was he didn’t know. There was no telling what his mother-in-law or Thea’s maid had said to them.
He could only hope this was exactly what Sheffield had described it to be—a formality—and that it would soon pass. He really just wanted peace. And another visit from Miss Whitford.
* * *
Almack’s was a glittering palace with gilded columns and a plethora of mirrors that reflected the sparkling cut-glass gaslights. For such a beautiful setting, the food and drink was atrocious. Day-old bread, dry, tasteless biscuits, and the most pitiful lemonade Beatrix had ever tasted.
“This fare is worse than what we eat at home,” Beatrix said to Selina. Their housekeeper also cooked for them and had no kitchen skills whatsoever. Selina had hired her because of her trustworthiness, which had been the most important trait given the fact that Selina had been conducting business as a fortune-teller under an alternate identity and Beatrix was stealing jewelry to pay for her season. Selina had since terminated her fortune-telling scheme, and they’d returned all the items Beatrix had stolen.
Selina’s shoulders twitched. “I didn’t think anything could be, but you’re right. I admit I’m looking forward to moving to Cavendish Square and having a new cook.”
Just that afternoon, Harry had shared the good news that he had leased the house in Cavendish Square that was owned by their friend the Marchioness of Ripley. It had become known as the Spitfire Society headquarters, which Selina didn’t mind at all since she was quite involved with the group now. She and Beatrix planned to take up residence there on Friday, and Harry would move in after the wedding.
“I am too,” Beatrix said with enthusiasm. “I’m glad Mrs. Vining is able to return to her former position at the inn.” Their housekeeper-cook hadn’t been at all disappointed to leave their employ. In fact, she’d been relieved to go back to her less demanding job.
“Put down the biscuit,” Selina said. “There’s another gentleman coming this way.”
Beatrix had danced with several gentlemen already. She’d been amazed at how well they comported themselves, but then it had come to her attention that vouchers were often awarded to men based on their dancing ability.
The gentleman who approached was accompanied by Harry’s sister, Lady Imogen. She smiled broadly as she greeted Selina and Beatrix. “Allow me to present Lord Worth.”
Beatrix was glad she’d managed to swallow her last bite of terrible biscuit because she likely would have choked. The man was a trifle shorter than Rockbourne, with brown hair and somewhat familiar hazel eyes. He was also her half brother.
