Page 68 of Solving Sophronia

“The one spoke proper—like an aristocrat. But the other—he was difficult to understand. He spoke slow and strange...” She pursed her lips. “I didn’t hear him well enough to describe it.”

Sophie nodded, feeling disappointed that Martha’s information wasn’t more helpful. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Should have told you when you came before. But now Ernest is hurt, and it’s all because of me.”

“It’s not your fault at all,” Sophie said. “A villain is responsible for Constable Merryweather’s injury, not you. You’ve been very helpful.” She considered whether she should go to the police with this new piece of information. But it was hardly any more than they already knew. Perhaps she should just send a note. But if she did that, would Jonathan think she was trying to uncover more details about the case for a story? Losing his trust hurt more than anything else.

When Sophie arrived home to Park Lane, Lord Everleigh’s carriage stood before the house, its polished crest gleaming in the sunlight. He must be paying a call to Prissy. Well, at least her sister’s favorite suitor hadn’t been put off by last night’s scandal. That should make Sophie’s family happy.

She climbed out of the carriage and thanked Jasper for his help. With any luck, Prissy and Lord Everleigh would be in the upstairs sitting room, and she could avoid them altogether.

Upon entering the house, however, she found that luck was not on her side. Lord Everleigh and Prissy were in the entry hall, donning hats and gloves.

Prissy smiled brightly when Sophie entered. “Sophie! Isn’t this a treat? Lord Everleigh is taking me for a carriage ride in the park.”

“Good afternoon, Lady Sophronia,” Lord Everleigh said.

How he managed such condescension in the few words, she’d never know.

“Lord Everleigh.”

“I do hope you’ll join us,” he said.

Prissy’s head snapped around so quickly that her hat fell almost completely off. She straightened it and gave Sophie a scowl, clearly telling her sister to not even consider it.

Sophie started to pull out her hatpin, ready to decline the invitation. But she paused. Had anyone interviewed Lord Everleigh? She supposed so, but what if he’d been overlooked? He was definitely a member of the hunting club. He was at the ball last night. And she knew—from her sister’s incessant bragging—that he was an excellent marksman.

“Thank you, my lord. I would like that very much.”

Prissy shook her head frantically behind Lord Everleigh’s back.

Sophie ignored her sister. Now that the idea had taken hold, she knew she’d not be able to put it out of her mind until she was certain Lord Everleigh could be eliminated as a suspect.

Hearing Dorrit’s bark, Lord Everleigh glanced up the stairs. “I wonder”—he pulled on his gloves—“should we invite your grandmother as well?”

Prissy’s glare could have melted steel.

Za

A few moments later the four were situated in Lord Everleigh’s open carriage as it started toward Hyde Park.

Prissy kept her head turned away from the other women, watching the houses as they passed, her arms folded like a child throwing a tantrum.

Mimi fussed over Dorrit, giving the dog a bite of biscuit.

Sophie studied Lord Everleigh.

The gentleman sat across from her, beside her sister. His posture was perfect, his hat tipped exactly the right amount, and his clothing could not have been more immaculate if it were hanging in a tailor’s window. He touched his waxed mustache with the tips of his gloved fingers.

Could it be him? He hardly seemed the type. What motive could he possibly have for murder? She could think of nothing that might drive him to kill, aside from someone scuffing his boots.

“Lady Sophronia,” he said after a moment, hardly hiding a smirk. “How goes your case? Have you found the murderer? Do you plan any more clandestine operations?”

“No, the murderer has not been found.” She answered the least patronizing of his questions. “Yet.But the police continue their search.”

“And they still suspect a member of the hunting club?” he asked.

“You think it unlikely?” Sophie responded.

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