Page 18 of Solving Sophronia

“Oh, I bear you no ill will,” Mimi said, waving it off. “None at all. I understand you were only doing your job. And it is not every day a woman is taken into custody by such a handsome man.”

Sergeant Lester cleared his throat, his hand covering a grin as his gaze met Sophie’s.

She let a smirk pull at her lips but didn’t permit the detective or her grandmother to see.

Mrs. Fredrickson entered with a tea tray, and Sophie could sense the detective’s relief at the distraction.

Mimi thanked the housekeeper and motioned toward the table. “Sophronia, will you pour out?”

As she served the tea, Sophie took the opportunity to study the detective through glances. Her grandmother’s assessment was not wrong. Detective Graham’s hair was dark and his jaw strong, and if Sophie was a romantic person, she’d say his eyes were the deep blue of a clear sky on a late summer evening. But she was definitely not a romantic person, and the color of a man’s eyes did not compensate for his patronizing manner. And she’d had enough of that for one day.

Once they all had their tea, Sophie stirred milk and sugar into her cup, then sat back in her chair and took a sip. “Now, gentlemen, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

Detective Graham set his cup on his saucer. “My lady, we’ve come for your help.” He frowned, looking as if he didn’t like what he was saying. “Your observations about the dead woman’s gown Monday evening were very astute, and of course, you would know better than we where to inquire about its origins. If...” The detective cleared his throat and glanced at Sergeant Lester.

The sergeant nodded.

Detective Graham pursed his lips. “As you suggested, my lady”—he scowled, looking as if the words tasted sour in his mouth—“we might discover where the gown was purchased, perhaps we can learn the identity of the victim.”

A very self-satisfied feeling came over Sophie, and she took another sip of tea to keep smugness from showing in her expression. “I see.” She set the teacup on the saucer and placed it on the table in front of her. “Yes, I can certainly help with that.” Reaching down, she opened her bag and took out the drawings and notebook, holding them in her lap. She glanced at her grandmother and saw Mimi’s encouraging nod. “Or, to save time, I could just tell you the murdered woman’s name.”

Chapter 5

Jonathan stared, dumbfounded at LadySophronia as his mind processed her statement. He turned to the sergeant, who looked every bit as confused, and then back to the young woman. “I’m sorry, my lady; did you say you know the victim’s identity?”

“I do.” Lady Sophronia glanced between the men, looking very pleased with herself.

Her demeanor chafed at Jonathan, as did her claim. That she, a snooping noblewoman, should, on a whim, make headway in the investigation when seasoned police officers had come up short was frustrating, to say the least.

“Well done, my lady.” Sergeant Lester leaned forward, clasping his hands together and apparently feeling none of the irritation that made Jonathan’s jaw tight. “How did you work it out? Was it the dress?”

Lady Sophronia nodded. She fingered through the papers and pulled one out, glanced at it, and then extended it across the low table to Jonathan.

He took it and studied the illustration, recognizing it immediately as a drawing of the dead woman’s gown. The depiction was remarkably detailed, with layers of ruffles and lace. It was even colored with a light-blue chalk.

Sergeant Lester moved closer to examine the picture. “My lady, this is very impressive.”

“Of course it is.” The dowager countess leaned forward to see the paper as well, then sat back in her carved chair and shrugged. “Did you expect anything less?” She whistled, and the pug jumped up and ran to her, allowing the woman to settle the dog onto her lap.

“Thank you,” Lady Sophronia said. She lifted her chin toward the paper. “I showed this picture to the dressmakers I considered likely to have sewn the gown, and Madame Delacourt—a modiste on Bond Street—recognized it. She gave me the names of women who’d purchased gowns in this style and color, and after more inquiries, I discovered to which young lady it belonged.” She stopped herself, apparently before giving away the lady’s name. “The victim worked as her lady’s maid.”

“That’s why the gown didn’t fit.” Sergeant Lester snapped his fingers. “Brilliant, my lady.”

The dowager countess scratched behind her dog’s ears and nodded at her granddaughter, pride evident in her smile.

“A good bit of detective work,” Jonathan admitted, trying to keep the grudging tone out of his voice.

“Thank you.” The smallest smile pulled at Sophronia’s mouth, and her cheeks went pink.

The effect was charming, and one Jonathan supposed had enchanted quite a few gentlemen of theton. The thought further irritated him, and he shook it away, leaning back into the plush sofa. “So who is she?”

Lady Sophronia set the remaining papers on her lap atop a notebook and folded her hands over them. She paused before speaking, her brows pinched together as if considering her answer. After a moment, she looked directly at Jonathan. “Before I tell you, I wish for you to understand that I am not simply engaging in this investigation for a diversion or out of boredom. I work as a society columnist for theIllustrated London News, and I—”

“‘Miss Propriety’s People and Prattle’?” Sergeant Lester interrupted with a gasp, setting down his biscuit. “My lady,you’reMiss Propriety?”

Lady Sophronia’s cheeks went even darker. “Yes, I—well, you see, the name was my editor’s idea.”

“My mother reads your column religiously—quotes Miss Propriety on a regular basis.” He grinned like a child in a confectionary shop. “Your story about the Queen’s talking parrot was very diverting.”

---