Page 44 of Murder at the Seven Dials

The crowds around them were noting their intense conversation; Mr. Marsden’s arrival had been noticed as well.

“Must we do this here?” Wimbly whispered.

“I find I like the atmosphere,” Marsden replied. Audrey could see why. Wimbly’s temples glistened with sweat. He was nervous about attracting too much attention.

“Fine. I saw her Sunday evening. At the theatre.”

She’d been found in Philip’s rooms Tuesday night. Audrey searched back to Sunday evening. Philip had been out, she recalled. She hadn’t seen him before turning in for the night.

“And what of His Grace?” Audrey pressed.

“What of him? He wasn’t there if that’s what you mean.”

“Tell me about Miss Lovejoy that night,” Mr. Marsden cut in, as if this washisopportunity to question the marquess. Well, she supposed it was both of theirs now.

“She was in the production, of course. She was brilliant, as always.”

“And did you go backstage after?” Audrey asked before Mr. Marsden could speak again.

“How is that relevant?”

“Did you speak to her?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered with a roll of his eyes. “She was in a wretched mood. Asked me to take her away from all of it. She mentioned the Continent.”

“That she wanted to go?” Marsden asked.

“That’s right, and when I put her off, she became practically hysterical. I didn’t stay. Said I had another appointment.”

“Was she usually that way? Distressed like that?” Audrey asked.

Wimbly grimaced. “If she had been, I would have detached from her long ago. No, she was never upset easily.”

“You didn’t wonder what might have caused such a mood?” Marsden asked.

“I only cared to be away from such an outburst,” he answered coldly.

“The house on Yarrow,” Mr. Marsden began.

“Yes, I own it. Yes, Miss Lovejoy lived there,” he answered preemptively.

“Where is the staff?” the detective continued.

“I let them all go the moment I heard the news. I saw no reason to dillydally.”

Audrey frowned. The man had no feelings. He didn’t mourn the loss of his mistress in the least. Likely, he saw her as an object. One he could easily replace.

“Who were her friends? Acquaintances?” Audrey asked.

“How should I know? I did not entertainthem,” he bit off. “Now, you have your answers, so I will take my leave. Good evening, Your Grace.” He peeled back his upper lip in a sneer and left them as quickly as he could.

Around them, the other patrons stared with curious faces and narrowed eyes.

“We have worn out our welcome, my dear duchess,” Mr. Marsden murmured.

She wanted to bite off his head. Audrey turned on her heel and left the main floor immediately. She breathed easier as she took the stairs to the ground floor. The sticky residue of smoke and sweat clung to her even as her skin shivered over.

The porter brought her wrap as another footman sent for her coach.