Page 30 of A Murder in Trinity Lane (Rosalynd and Steele Mysteries #2)

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

FROM FURY TO RESOLVE

I crossed Grosvenor Square at a furious clip, barely nodding to the constable tipping his hat at the corner.

The hem of my gown was damp with gutter mist, my gloves balled in one hand.

By the time I reached Rosehaven House, I’d replayed the argument with Steele a dozen times.

And grown more incensed with each retelling.

Before I could even knock, Honeycutt opened the door. Whether by chance or intuition, I did not care.

“Did Petunia return home safely?” I asked, breath tight.

“She did, milady. A footman from Steele House escorted her back.”

Well, that was one thing that had gone right. Although there was no excuse for Petunia to keep running off to his house every time the wind blew. I would need to sit her down and impress upon her the dire consequences if she did so again.

“Begging your pardon, milady. The dowager countess has come to call. She’s in the drawing room with Lady Chrysanthemum. Tea has been served.”

I stilled. “Grandmother is here?” Just what I needed.

“Indeed.” He offered the faintest trace of sympathy. “Her ladyship arrived not fifteen minutes ago.”

“Of course she did,” I muttered. Without so much as a word of warning, as usual.

Much as I wished otherwise, I had no choice but to face her. I smoothed my skirts, gathered the fraying strands of my composure, and made my way to the drawing room.

The familiar clink of china and the scent of chamomile greeted me as I stepped inside.

“Good afternoon, Grandmother,” I said, forcing civility.

“Good heavens, Rosalynd,” she exclaimed, looking me over with narrowed eyes. “Where have you been? You look as if you’ve been dragged through a hedge backwards.”

She sat ramrod straight in one of the high-backed chairs near the hearth, her black gloves folded neatly on her lap, every strand of silver hair in perfect order.

“Petunia ran off to Steele House. I went to fetch her.”

“Did a raging storm suddenly materialize?” she asked, glancing toward the window and the perfectly bright, sunny day.

“No, ma’am. I was so worried, I rushed there and back. I apologize for my disheveled appearance.”

“Humph,” she muttered. An expression that spoke volumes about my behavior. A lady simply did not rush about. Giving up on me, she turned to Chrissie. “Tell your sister about the note.”

Chrissie was perched on the edge of a settee, an envelope in her hands, a troubled expression on her face. “It’s from Lord Breckhurst. Addressed to Cosmos.”

“Breckhurst?” I blinked, trying to recall. “Is he the quiet one with the sandy hair?”

She nodded. “I think he’s seeking permission to court me.”

I took the seat across from her. “And that is not something you desire?”

“Well, I was hoping . . . I thought . . . oh, Rosie, I don’t know what to do. Should I give my approval when I’m not interested in him? At least when it comes to marriage.”

Grandmother pursed her lips. “I advised her against it.”

“Any particular reason?” I agreed with her, but I was curious about her rationale.

“Because,” said Grandmother with steely patience, “she’s not in love with Breckhurst. She’s toying with the idea merely to elicit jealousy from another quarter.”

Chrissie flushed. “You don’t know that.”

“Grandmother is not wrong, sweetheart,” I said gently. “If your heart is truly elsewhere?—”

“I like Breckhurst,” Chrissie said. “He’s kind. He reads poetry.”

She thought a poet made for an admirable suitor. Personally, I would be bored to flinders. I much preferred a man of action. “But he’s not the one you write about in your diary.”

Her eyes widened. “You read it?”

“I did not. Petunia did. I scolded her after she told me. You’ll need to find a better hiding place.”

Grandmother made a sound somewhere between amusement and disapproval. She’d always had a fond spot in her heart for Petunia. But her tone when she addressed Chrissie had no softness in it. “You cannot trifle with a man’s affection, Chrysanthemum. It may wound more deeply than you imagine.”

Chrissie glanced down at the envelope. “I suppose you’re right,” she murmured. “I’ll speak to Cosmos and tell him to politely decline.”

“A wise decision,” Grandmother said. “Speaking of your brother, where is he?”

“He’s escorting Claire home,” I said.

“Oh,” she said in a mild tone.

“You don’t object?”

“It’s not up to me to object. Or approve, for that matter.

That decision falls squarely on your brother’s shoulders.

” She sighed. “And frankly, Rosalynd, I was growing a bit concerned. Cosmos has never shown the slightest interest in the female gender. If he’s attracted to Lady Edmunds, I’m actually relieved. ”

“But she’s toying with him.”

Grandmother gave me a sharp look. “Are you quite sure of that?”

“I doubt she’ll marry again, given how much she despised her marriage.”

“Oh, my dear. Why must it lead to a wedding? Couldn’t they simply . . . enjoy themselves?”

“Grandmother!” Chrissie exclaimed, clearly shocked by her statement.

Grandmother turned to her with firm eyes. “Don’t be getting any ideas, my girl. That opinion is solely reserved for your brother.”

Chrissie lifted a defiant chin. “Because he’s a man?”

“Partly. And partly because he’s finally shown interest in something beyond his plants. Now run along, Chrysanthemum. I wish to have a word with your sister.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She kissed Grandmother’s cheek and swept from the room.

As soon as the door closed, Grandmother turned her sharp gaze on me.

“Now then. Let us discuss your behavior.”

I lifted an innocent brow. “What behavior would that be?”

“Attending an inquest. Visiting a stationer’s shop. And this sordid business at St. Agnes—all in the company of the Duke of Steele. With no chaperone in sight. Not even a maid.”

“You are aware, Grandmother, that St. Agnes is managed by nuns. They make excellent guardians of virtue.”

Her eyes snapped. “Don’t get smart with me.”

I sighed. She was right. She didn’t deserve such disrespect. “We’re trying to solve a murder.”

“And how will you manage that? You’re no detective.”

“Maybe not, but someone has to care. What happened to Elsie Leonard was monstrous.”

She set her teacup down with an audible clink. “Listen to me. If you persist in gallivanting around London with a notorious duke, you will ruin not only your own name—but Chrissie’s as well. And the twins’. And poor Laurel.”

“I don’t gallivant. I investigate.”

“You disregard propriety.” Her voice sharpened. “Society is ruthless to women who defy its rules. You may believe yourself above it, but your sisters are not.”

Her words struck deeper than I cared to admit. I looked down, twisting my hands in my lap.

After a long moment, her tone softened. “You are clever, Rosalynd. But cleverness is no substitute for caution. Do not confuse the two.”

“I won’t,” I said quietly.

She rose and smoothed her skirts. “I have another engagement to attend to, so I must take my leave. I hope you’ll consider my advice—for your sisters’ sake, if not your own.” And then she firmly stamped down her cane and strode out of the room.

Emotionally exhausted by the events of the day, I climbed the stairs to my bedchamber and shut the door behind me. Welcoming the silence, I settled into the chair near the hearth where the fire burned low and the quiet gave me space to think.

Grandmother was right. My actions reflected on my sisters.

No matter how unfair that might be. Chrissie might be one of the most popular debutantes of the Season, but that could change in a heartbeat.

If my behavior was deemed scandalous by society, it might jeopardize her chances of making a good match. Unlike me, she wished to marry.

And then there was Steele.

I hated to admit it, but he was right. I had been reckless. Not in my visit to Kew Gardens, but my excursion to Saffron Hill.

Following that man from St. Agnes without an escort had been extremely foolhardy, even though I’d done it for the best of reasons.

I’d hoped Elsie’s murderer, eager to take possession of Elsie’s things, would appear.

But he hadn’t, even though I’d stood in that disgusting alley for hours.

If I’d thought about it for even one second, I would have realized her assassin wouldn’t be stupid enough to come in person.

He’d have the box brought to him. But, intent as I was to find justice for Elsie, I hadn’t thought that far.

I had to face the fact. I’d allowed my emotions to override my common sense. And that meant I owed Steele an apology.

Just as I reached that humbling conclusion, a knock sounded at the door.

I opened it to find a footman holding a silver salver. “A note was just delivered, my lady. Mr. Honeycutt thought it best to bring it up at once.”

“Thank you,” I said, taking it from him. “That will be all.” He made a quick retreat.

The handwriting on the envelope was neat, precise, but unfamiliar. Curious, I broke the seal.

My dear Lady Rosalynd,

It was a pleasure to see you earlier at Kew Gardens. You seemed so taken with our discussion of family that I thought you might wish to meet another member of mine—my aunt, Lady Harriet Vale. She has long served as the matriarchal heart of our household.

We would be delighted to host you, and Rosehaven as well, for dinner tomorrow evening at eight. It would be just the four of us, as Henry has a previous commitment.

Do say yes.

Yours most sincerely,

Nathaniel Vale

I read it twice.

So. He believed I’d been charmed by his family. And him. And now he wanted to draw me in further.

An invitation to Vale House, wrapped in civility and respectability.

Though the invitation included Cosmos, he wouldn’t be able to attend.

On the ride home from Kew Gardens, Claire had invited him to supper tomorrow so he could examine her 'patch.’ At night.

In the dark. Unless Cosmos possessed supernatural vision, which he didn’t, he wouldn’t be able to conduct a proper inspection.

At least one that involved barren ground.

But Cosmos, being Cosmos, had accepted without the least hesitation. Truly, the mind boggled.

But never mind him. I needed to decide what to do about Vale’s invitation. I should refuse it. That was the commonsense thing to do. But the thing of it was, I needed answers. No, more than that. I needed proof. And I wouldn’t get it from a distance. For that, I would need to get up close.

Before I could talk myself out of it, I moved to my writing desk and dipped my pen in ink.

Dear Dr. Vale,

Thank you for your kind invitation. I would be pleased to join you for dinner tomorrow evening.

Yours,

Lady Rosalynd Rosehaven

I sealed the envelope with a decisive press of wax and pulled the bell for a footman.

Let the trap be set.