Amy frowned. “I wonder what would have precipitated him doing that?”
“Do you know if St. Vincent was wealthy?”
“Papa was the one to hold the meeting with St. Vincent when they worked out the marriage contract. He would know about St. Vincent’s finances.” She let out a frustrated breath. “I should have asked to see the contract, but I felt so pressured by Papa at the time that the thought never occurred to me.” She shook her head. “It sounds as though Mr. Harris had a reason to pop off his uncle. He would gain the business.”
William choked on his tea. “Pop off?”
Amy grinned. “Murder-mystery-author talk.”
“I wonder if the police know about Mr. Harris?” William tapped his fingertip on the table, a habit she’d noticed that indicated he was thinking hard. “The problem is, I am not sure how much of an investigation they are conducting.”
“That is why, instead of turning this information over to the police, we need to follow up on it ourselves.” She saluted him with her teacup.
* * *
Two days later, it being Sunday, Amy left the morning service at St. Swithin’s church to see William waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He gave her and Aunt Margaret a bow. “Good morning, ladies. Did you enjoy the service?”
“What I heard of it. I’m afraid I was out late last evening and had to depend on Amy to nudge me when I began to doze off.” Aunt Margaret grinned. “Will you join us for luncheon, my lord?”
“I am glad your niece was able to perform that service for you. And yes, I would be honored to join you for luncheon.” He extended his elbows, and the ladies took his escort to their carriage. It was another pleasant spring day. Budding flowers grew along the pathway from the church doors to where the carriages awaited their passengers.
As their carriage drew up to the front of their townhouse, two men stood at the door, speaking with the butler, Stevens. It took Amy only a few seconds to recognize Detective Carson and Detective Marsh from the Bath police. Good heavens, didn’t they have better things to do on a Sunday morning than annoy her?
“Oh, dear,” Aunt Margaret said. She turned to Amy. “Maybe they found the killer and want to let us know.”
“Or they are still focused on me and want to harass me some more. We are not postponing luncheon.” Amy gritted her teeth at the men’s poor manners to show up, unexpected, on an early Sunday afternoon. Don’t they go to church?
Amy and Aunt Margaret stepped out of their carriage as William walked up to them from his vehicle. “Looks like you have visitors.” He gestured with his head in the direction of the front door.
“Yes. Unexpected and uninvited.” Amy hoped her terse words reached the detectives’ ears.
William took her arm as they climbed the steps, Aunt Margaret in front of them. “I don’t believe the police think they need to be expected. Or invited,” he murmured in her ear.
“My goodness, Detectives, early afternoon on a Sunday? We are just now arriving home from church.” Aunt Margaret regarded them with all the dignity of her station.
“I’m afraid there are things that must be discussed with Lady Amy,” Carson said, not looking the least bit apologetic.
Very well. If they could be impolite, she could also. Just as she was about to tell them they could wait in the drawing room while she, Aunt Margaret, and William had their lunch, her aunt said, “We were about to have luncheon. If we all retire to the drawing room, I will have Cook send in tea and sandwiches to hold us over.”
“We don’t require any refreshments, my lady.” Marsh sneered.
“But we do,” Aunt Margaret snapped. “Therefore, you may wait in the drawing room—sans refreshments—while we enjoy our lunch.” She swept past them, leaving both men gaping after her. Amy grinned. She truly did love her Aunt Margaret.
Although the three of them pretended everything was normal while they enjoyed the delicious white soup, baked salmon with lemon caper sauce, potatoes, and new peas, a cloud hung over the three of them as they ate their meal.
Amy found she could not eat as much as she normally did, wondering what could have brought the detectives out on a Sunday to question her. If they had good news, certainly they would have shared it rather than sit for almost an hour while she and her companions had their luncheon.
Eventually, Aunt Margaret took a deep breath and tossed her napkin down. “We might as well hear what those horrid men have to say.”
William rose and drew back Aunt Margaret’s chair, then Amy’s. The three of them made their way to the drawing room, where Detective Carson paced and Detective Marsh stared into space. He rose as they entered the room.
“Please take a seat.” Aunt Margaret waved in the direction of a group of chairs surrounding a small table, then settled herself on the settee and patted the space alongside her for Amy t
o sit. William continued to stand, resting his elbow on the fireplace mantle.
“I apologize for calling on a Sunday, but something just came up, and we need to get a few things straight.”
Amy nodded, since she assumed it was her with whom they wished to speak.