“Did he become abusive?”
“No. Not at all. Frankly, it was all over quite quickly. However, he made it obvious that he was not pleased. The conversation was short. I gave him his ring back and he left.” She was still dithering on whether to reveal the anonymous note, the details contained in the missive, and her interview with the contact who had confirmed the information.
She took a sip of tea and continued. “For some unknown reason, he arrived again at my home last evening and requested an audience.”
“Had he sent word ahead of time?”
Amy shook her head. “No. I was not expecting him.”
“Go on.”
“When I entered the library, he was nowhere to be seen. After checking the drawing room to determine if he was there, I returned to the library, and then noticed the French doors to the patio were open, so I thought perhaps he had stepped outside for a breath of fresh air.
“However, I went as far into the garden as I could with the lack of light and then returned to the library. After taking only a few steps into the room, I stumbled over something and fell to my hands and knees. It turned out to be Mr. St. Vincent’s body.” She shuddered.
“Dead?”
“Yes. Very dead.”
When he’d finished with his note-taking, Mr. Nelson-Graves looked up at William. “And how do you figure into this, my lord?”
William cleared his throat. “I had arrived to bring a book to Lady Amy that she had asked to borrow. As I entered the home, I heard a scream and hurried to the library, from where the sound had come. I found Lady Amy staring at the dead man—who I later learned was Mr. St. Vincent.”
“And Mr. St. Vincent had a knife stuck in him?”
“Yes.”
The door opened and Stevens stepped into the room. “My lord, the men from the Bath police department have arrived.”
Mr. Nelson-Graves tucked away his notepad with his scrawled notes and pulled out a clean pad. “Lady Amy, I advise you to look to me when the detectives ask you questions. I will nod if you should answer and interrupt if I feel you are incriminating yourself.”
Amy broke into a sweat. Incriminating herself? Good lord, this was real. Not one of her books that she plotted and took such joy in writing, but a real murder. And she was a genuine suspect. Truthfully, if she were not a member of the aristocracy, she would most likely right now be finding herself in prison. Just the thought of such a dreadful place raised gooseflesh on her arms.
The two men from the previous evening entered the room, and Amy’s mouth dried up. She shifted in her seat so she was closer to William, which Papa took note of with raised eyebrows. William reached out and patted her hand.
After the men had been seated and declined an offer of tea, the one who had introduced himself the night before as Detective Ralph Carson leaned forward. “Are you ready to confess now, Lady Amy?”
CHAPTER 5
All the blood drained from Amy’s face, and her heart began to pound. Sitting on her lap, Persephone must have sensed her fear, because she growled in the detective’s direction. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Carson?” Surely she hadn’t heard him correctly.
Mr. Nelson-Graves shifted in his seat, glaring at the detective. “I request that you not harass my client by asking such provocative questions. If you care to make reasonable inquiries, I will be happy to instruct Lady Amy which ones to answer. On the other hand, we will call an end to this session entirely if you do not abide by the rules of common decency.”
Carson smirked. “I take it you are the barrister?”
“Yes. My name is Mr. Nelson-Graves, a barrister from London. I have been retained by Lord Winchester on behalf of his daughter, Lady Amy.”
Amy offered the horrible detective a tight smile. “Would you care for some tea? I can send for another cart to be brought in.” And then pour the hot beverage over your head.
Ignoring her offer, Detective Marsh studied her carefully. “Perhaps my partner was a bit premature in his questioning.”
“Sir, perhaps before you begin questioning my daughter in my home, or make premature, ridiculous assumptions, I would know who you are.” Lord Winchester spoke softly, with all the power and dignity of his station. He reclined in the comfortable winged chair, his arms resting casually on the armrests, his gold-and-ruby ring with the family crest passed down from centuries of Winchester ancestors catching the light coming through the window.
Carson blanched and wiped the smirk from his face. “I apologize, my lord. I am Detective Ralph Carson, and this is my partner, Detective Edwin Marsh, from the Bath police.”
After a few moments’ pause, Papa dipped his head slightly at their introduction, and everyone turned their attention to the barrister, who cleared his throat.
“I must warn you that Lady Amy will answer no questions I feel are inappropriate, self-incriminating, or unnecessary. Furthermore, I want it noted that I find your initial question to be crass and unfounded.”