“Should I be insulted?”
“No. You are the prize, not him.” William stood and took her arm again.
“Well, thank you for that.” They began their stroll again. “What I don’t understand is how Papa could have missed St. Vincent’s nebulous financial state, along with the fact that he was selling opium.”
“The man was devious. The only reason my man uncovered his true financial state was because he has another client who suffered the same loss, so he had a basis from which to start. That gave him the idea to delve further into St. Vincent’s financial circumstances and come up with how close he was to ruin.”
Amy frowned and picked up her skirt, deftly stepping around a small pile of dog leavings on the pathway. “That is probably why he was so upset when I ended the engagement.”
“And most likely why he returned, hoping to convince you to reconsider.”
“Poor Miss Hemphill.” She looked up at William. “I don’t know her very well, but she doesn’t appear to come from a well-off family. Her dowry was most likely not enough to salvage Mr. St. Vincent’s business.”
They had strolled along for about another five minutes when Amy burst out laughing.
“What?” William smiled, even though he clearly didn’t understand what was so funny.
“That horrible Mr. Harris believes he will be a wealthy man when the will is read. Instead, he will inherit a bankrupt business.”
“Serves him right.”
“Especially if he was the one who killed Mr. St. Vincent, only to inherit the ruined business.” Amy continued to smile at the awful man’s predicament.
“I believe we shall keep Mr. Harris on our list of suspects. If he contends that he will be wealthy, he obviously doesn’t know about his uncle’s financial state. I wonder why it’s taken so long for the will to be read?”
“I have no idea. Generally it’s done after the funeral, but there is always the chance that some other reason has held it up. Maybe his solicitor is in London, or perhaps traveling and unaware of the man’s death.”
She began to giggle. “I know it’s unkind to enjoy what the man is about to hear, but Mr. Harris was so horrid to me, I can’t help it.”
William patted her hand. “Well deserved, my dear.” He gazed off into the distance and frowned. “Is that not Lady Carlisle?”
Amy studied the lady walking toward them. It was indeed Lady Carlisle. She was strolling with Mrs. Miles and her son. The two women had their heads down and were in a deep conversation, while Mr. Miles looked as though he would prefer to be anywhere other than where he was. A situation she had often observed at the book club meetings as well. It was nice of him to take his mother places, but the sour look would surely take the joy out of the outings.
“Good afternoon, Lady Carlisle, Mrs. Miles, Mr. Miles.” William’s voice drew their attention.
“Oh, Lord Wethington, Lady Amy, how nice to see you.” Lady Carlisle studied them with interest and speculation. Of course, it would be a surprise to members of the book club to see her and William taking a stroll together, since they had never before been more than acquaintances.
“I see you are enjoying a stroll on this lovely day,” Amy said.
“It is lovely out, is it not?” Mrs. Miles offered a smile in complete opposition to her son’s scowl. They chatted for a few minutes and then went their separate ways. “Did you notice how fatigued Lady Carlisle has appeared the last few times we have seen her?” Amy asked.
“Not particularly, but I was busy watching Mr. Miles act like strolling with his mother and Lady Carlisle was the worst thing he would do this week.”
“Yes. He does confuse me. I know he accompanies his mother everywhere, which is quite nice of him, but on the other hand, he doesn’t mind showing how much he dislikes it.” Amy shrugged. “I find him to be an odd sort, actually.”
They walked for a few minutes; then William said, “My mind keeps returning to Miss Hemphill and her overly dramatic reaction to your presence at Lady Ambrose’s sewing circle. We know she expected Mr. St. Vincent to propose to her, but might there be more to her story?”
A sudden realization struck Amy. She shook her head. “So much has been going on. I nearly forgot to tell you.”
William placed his hand on hers. “It’s quite all right. As you say, a lot has been going on. What is it?”
“You were there when I told the police I had received an anonymous note informing me of Mr. St. Vincent’s dealings in the drug trade.”
He nodded. “I remember.”
She stopped their momentum and stared into his eyes. “I firmly believe Miss Hemphill wrote that note.”
William studied her for a minute, obviously deep in thought. Then he nodded and moved them forward again. “It fits.”