Page 64 of Murder at the Debutante Ballby

“Maybe he has a woman,” said one of the old men in a thick accent.

His companion nodded knowingly and said something in Italian. The first one chuckled. They both looked at me, smiling like naughty teenaged boys.

“Your English is better than I thought,” I muttered.

“Ignore them,” Luigi said to me. “They don’t know Harry.”

I considered asking him if Harry had ever mentioned a woman to him but decided against it. I didn’t want to know the answer. Well, I didn’t want to know if the answer was yes.

That didn’t stop my mind from wandering in that direction. Perhaps he’d been waiting outside the Druitt-Poore’s house to collect someone from the ball. A pretty widow, perhaps, or a maid finished for the evening. She would be pretty, too, of course. He might have met her when he went to the Searcys office without me. The maids and footmen must go there from time to time to collect their pay and ask about future work.

“Miss Fox?” Luigi said. “Did you hear me?”

“No. Sorry. I was miles away. What did you say?”

“Do you want me to give him a message?”

“No, thank you. I’ll come back later.”

My plan for the morning didn’t require two people. Indeed, it might be better if just one of us confronted Mr. Livingstone.

Last time Harryand I called on him, he’d sent us away with blustery anger. I’d hid my face by lowering my hat brim, but this time I kept it up. I wanted to see his reactions and that meant allowing him to see me.

He tried to have his butler send me away this time, too, but I insisted. I told the butler to tell Mr. Livingstone that I would inform Scotland Yard of his accusation from the previous night. I was shown up to his study without delay. I was very glad not to be shown into the drawing room where Amelia was more likely to walk in.

Mr. Livingstone did not invite me to sit, but I sat anyway. Some things couldn’t be discussed standing up like a soldier. I wanted to be delicate, gentle, and a picture of feminine sympathy. Honey was better at catching flies than blunt hammers.

I left the door open and could hear the butler shuffle his feet just outside.

“Thank you for seeing me, Mr. Livingstone. I’m sorry to arrive unannounced like this.”

If my polite, ladylike manner caught him off guard, he didn’t show it. Although he was clean shaved and superbly dressed, he looked like he’d only just crawled out of bed. A gentleman who’d drunk himself into a state the night before can look immaculate of a morning thanks to an efficient valet, but he couldn’t hide the pallor of his cheeks or his bloodshot eyes.

“You again,” he snapped. “Is your superior not with you this time?”

“Mr. Armitage is my associate and no, he is not here.” Despite his hostility, I felt immeasurable relief that he didn’t recognize me from the ball. I’d deliberately worn plainer clothes today, knowing I was coming here. “Regarding last night’s outburst—”

“That’s none of your affair.”

“On the contrary. Scotland Yard are very interested in what you had to say, and as I consult for them, I was duty bound to inform them. They know I am here, speaking to you on their behalf.”

He leaned forward, eyes narrowed. “Who are you? I swear I know you.”

“I work for Searcys as a temporary maid. I’ve been hired by the hostesses of several balls you’ve attended, including the Druitt-Poores.”

“You don’t sound like a maid.”

Drat. The dress hadn’t been enough to fool him. I should have put on a Cockney accent. “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, Mr. Livingstone. To the matter at hand. Last night, you barged in on the Druitt-Poores’ ball.”

“I didn’tbargein. I was invited.”

“As was your daughter, I believe.”

“How does a temporary maid know that?”

“Miss Livingstone failed to attend, however. Did you deliberately leave her at home, knowing you would be involved in an altercation?”

He sat back heavily, all the fight having suddenly left him, as if my accusation had punched it out of him.