A footman assisted her and Aunt Margaret with their heavy woolen coats, while William removed his own outerwear. Amy and Aunt Margaret slipped into the retiring room, just off the main room, to fix their hair and make sure they were presentable.
The music started up just as they entered the ballroom. William stood against the wall, chatting with several members from the book club. No doubt catching up on what he had missed at the meeting.
The room’s pale-blue walls with white wooden trim made the area seem larger and brighter when the numerous chandeliers were lit. The well-worn wooden floor was already crowded with couples dancing a quadrille. Ladies wore their best gowns, and gentlemen attempted to outdo each other with well-trimmed jackets and colorful ascots.
“Good evening, Lady Amy, Lady Margaret.” Mr. Colbert beamed at them. He was always such a cheerful man. Mr. Miles and Mr. Davidson followed suit. Lady Carlisle and Miss Sterling smiled and gave a slight dip.
“Good evening, everyone,” Amy and Aunt Margaret said at once.
Now that two meetings of the Mystery Book Club had passed since St. Vincent’s death, it appeared she was no longer the main subject of gossip. The group had not stopped speaking abruptly when she approached them.
About ten minutes had passed in pleasant conversation when the musicians began a waltz. “May I request this dance, Lady Amy?” William spoke rather quickly, no doubt anxious to have time alone with her so they could discuss the subject first and foremost in their minds.
“Yes, thank you, my lord.” She took his extended arm, and they walked to the center of the room.
William swung her into his arms, and they began the steps. “I have a bit of information for you,” he said as he turned the two of them to keep from crashing into another couple. She leaned her head back to look into his eyes, surprised, up close, at how much taller he was than she had realized. So many things about William had previously escaped her notice.
“Where have you been all week?” Goodness, she sounded like a harpy, demanding to know where he was. “I’m sorry, I did not mean for it to come out that way.”
Instead of showing annoyance, he merely smiled that crooked smile of his that made him look like a little boy. “I apologize for my absence. I had a difficult situation to handle—nothing dealing with our investigation. But I do have information on Mr. St. Vincent’s finances as well as his nephew, Mr. Harris.”
“And I have information on Miss Hemphill. But why don’t you go first?”
William moved them to the edge of the dance floor so they could waltz at a slower pace and not interfere with the other couples. “First off, I met Mr. Harris at my club the other night. I must admit, he’s a likable chap, not too good at cards, but there was something seemingly ‘off’ about him. Not that he bragged about it, but based on a few things he said, we were correct to assume that Mr. Harris was St. Vincent’s heir, both to his business and everything else.”
“That could be a reason to hasten someone’s death.”
“Just so. However, as I told you earlier, the argument overheard in front of St. Vincent’s townhouse was due to Mr. St. Vincent cutting off Harris’s allowance.”
“Were you able to find out why?”
“Not from the individual who was privy to the argument, but rather from interesting information Mr. Harding uncovered.” The music ended, and Amy was amazed to see how many more people had enter
ed the room while they were dancing.
“Walk with me to the refreshment table.” William took her by the elbow, and they made their way through the throng.
Amy leaned in close to his ear. “What did your man of business learn?”
William shook his head and stepped up to the table, retrieving two glasses of lemonade. He handed one to her and took her other hand in his. “Let’s go for a stroll.”
Since the room had grown so crowded, it soon became apparent that a stroll would not be possible. Amy was also frustrated as they were continuously stopped by friends and acquaintances, some who wanted to discuss St. Vincent’s death and others who just wanted to chat.
“I believe we must continue our conversation another time.” William looked as frustrated as she felt. “Perhaps I can call on you tomorrow afternoon?”
“A very good idea. Why don’t you join us for luncheon after church again? Even though Aunt Margaret is now aware of our determination to find the killer and has even come up with a good point I will share with you, she prefers not to know too much about what we are doing. She is concerned for my safety. So, we will have to discuss matters after lunch. Maybe take a ride to Royal Victoria Park and stroll among all the spring flowers, if the weather allows.”
William studied her with tightened lips. “I must agree with Lady Margaret. I’ve warned you before that if the killer becomes aware of your snooping into the murder, you could very well be in danger.”
“I am not going to sit by while the detectives assigned to this case do nothing but look for ways to close their case against me. Once I am in jail, there will be nothing I can do to help myself.” She shook her head. “Dangerous or not, I have to do whatever I can to find out who killed Mr. St. Vincent.”
William grinned. “I didn’t really think your aunt’s comments, nor my agreeing with her, were going to stop you.” He looked up over her shoulder and stiffened.
“What?” Amy turned, but being of short stature, she couldn’t see beyond the gold buttons on the jackets of the two men in front of her.
“Mr. Harris. He just entered the room.”
“How very interesting.” Amy moved sideways until she got a clear view of the door. “Is that him? With the dark-burgundy jacket and gold ascot?”