bsp; “Oh, wonderful. How did you get it?”
“The police sent word that they were finished with your library and had brought the book to the station since they knew it belonged to me. I had just retrieved it before I arrived at your house.”
William moved to her side of the carriage and opened the book to point out a few things. They talked a bit about the contents on the short ride from Amy’s townhouse to the center of the city, where the Roman Baths and Bath Abbey were the main focus of tourists.
She had taken the baths herself a few times, but most of the regular visitors were Londoners who came for the healing waters and to enjoy a smaller Season of ton activities during the summer.
The Baths had been built by the Romans as a place for public bathing. In 60 AD when it was first built, it had been known as Aquae Sulis, Latin for the waters of Sulis. The structure itself was very Romanesque, with pillars surrounding a large pool in the center. More recently, carvings of Roman emperors and the governors of Roman Britain had been placed on the terrace that overlooked the Great Bath.
She and William left the book in the carriage, and arm in arm they strolled around the Roman Bath part of the area, then made their way to the Pump Room. It was a beautiful space, with high windows allowing a tremendous amount of light into the room. They got into the line to receive a glass of the horrible-tasting water and then moved to the square in front of Bath Abbey, where they settled on a bench, just two more people in the throngs that traveled to the city from other places.
Amy turned to him and withdrew her notes from her reticule. “I visited Mrs. Morton for afternoon tea yesterday with Eloise and Aunt Margaret, and naturally I was the center of attention and many questions were tossed in my direction.”
“I admire your bravery, Amy. I would much rather face pistols at dawn then confront a roomful of curious, gossiping women.”
“Aunt Margaret thought it would be beneficial for me to be seen so the rumor would not start that I was under arrest, awaiting execution for St. Vincent’s death.” She shuddered at the thought, then continued. “However, one thing I did discover is that Miss Hemphill—I’m not sure if you know her?”
William shook his head no.
“Well, I have met her once or twice. A pleasant woman, slightly older than me. Lady Ambrose, one of Mrs. Morton’s callers, took a great deal of delight in informing me—and everyone else—that Miss Hemphill and Mr. St. Vincent had been courting a few months ago. It seems she then unexpectedly left for London. It was during the time she was gone that he began to court me and eventually made his own trip to London to approach Papa with an offer for my hand.”
William cupped his chin with his thumb and index finger and studied her. “Do you suppose that means something?”
“I’m not sure, but from what I learned, she had been somewhat assured that an offer from Mr. St. Vincent would be forthcoming. Then she up and left Bath, only to return recently to hear that her suitor had become betrothed to me.”
William looked off into the distance for a while, then turned to Amy. “Do you suppose she was so angered by his betrayal that she murdered him?”
“’Tis possible, is it not? A woman scorned and all that.”
“Yes. Very possible.” He glanced at the notes in her lap. “I assume she has been added to your list of suspects?”
“Yes.”
William stood and offered her his hand. “Let us take a stroll, and I will tell you my story. Which I am sure will end with us adding another to our growing list.”
CHAPTER 10
“Another suspect?” Amy was only too happy to include another name to her short list.
“Perhaps.” He steered her away from an approaching couple. “It might be best if we take some refreshment at one of the tea shops on Broad Street. We might find a nice quiet corner where we can talk, and you can take notes.”
“Excellent idea.”
They chatted about the weather, how the town was growing, and which shops were worthwhile and which shops were only for those who came from out of town. Nothing said was in any way provocative, and they appeared to be no more than any other couple enjoying the lovely day.
After they were settled in the tea shop at a table near the back of the store, with the fragrant scent of tea emanating from a blue-and-white teapot and an array of small sandwiches in front of them, William began the conversation. “As I knew previously, Mr. Francis Harris, St. Vincent’s nephew, stands to inherit whatever it is your fiancé left behind.”
“Ex-fiancé.”
He stared straight into her eyes. “He’d been out of the country for some time and took up residence about two weeks before St. Vincent’s death. Just one week before, the two of them almost came to fisticuffs outside St. Vincent’s townhouse.”
Amy leaned back and let out a deep breath. “How very interesting.”
“Indeed.” He popped the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.
“What else did you discover? I can tell from your expression that you know more.”
William wiped his mouth with his napkin and tossed it alongside his plate. After sliding the plate to the side, he leaned on his forearms. “From what I was told by a club member who witnessed the exchange, Mr. St. Vincent had planned to cut off the allowance he’d been providing his nephew.”