Page 28 of Murder in Matrimony (A Lady of Letters Mystery #4)

TWENTY

Dear Lady Agony,

Do you believe friends can be trusted with secrets? I don’t want to burden my friend, yet I am becoming desperate. I know you will tell me true.

Devotedly,

Secret to Share or Keep

Dear Secret to Share or Keep,

If your friend is a true friend, he or she can most certainly be trusted with a secret. To whom are we to unburden ourselves if not our friends? Friends make life tolerable. So, too, will your life be when you share your secret. Do so, and feel better soon.

Yours in Secret,

Lady Agony

Two nights later, Amelia, Simon, Kitty, and Oliver assembled in the Hamsted dining room to discuss Oliver’s progress.

The meal was finished, and they had sent the footmen away so that they might talk in private.

The men refrained from smoking, but all enjoyed a glass of port to celebrate the good news Oliver hinted at.

The sunlight had disappeared an hour ago, and candlelight filled the room, illuminating the dark burgundy liquid in their glasses.

The image brought to Amelia’s mind the idea of autumn and the end of the season.

Soon, many Londoners would retire to their country houses and take up grouse hunting.

Amelia, however, would remain in town, and she wished for nothing else.

The thought of perusing shop windows at Christmas and smelling chestnuts roasted by costermongers was her ideal holiday.

Simon’s eyes flicked to the closed doors and returned to the company around the mahogany table. “So tell us, Hamsted, was your conversation successful?”

Oliver winked at Kitty, who returned the gesture with a smile, before answering.

“Completely successful. I have the pleasure of informing you that my mother accepted my admission wholeheartedly. She even went as far as to say she found Lady Agony’s column so enjoyable that she was not surprised it was written by a man.

The breadth of topics was evidence of it, and only I, with my eye for detail, could have penned such nuanced pieces. ”

Amelia rolled her eyes. “Indeed.”

“It sounds like something she would say.” Kitty chuckled.

Oliver preened. “What can I say? I am a genius as far as she is concerned.”

Lady Hamsted had many faults, but not appreciating her son wasn’t one of them. She praised him in private and in public and probably in her sleep.

“How did you explain your knowledge of her being the blackmailer?” asked Amelia.

“When you told me she wrote the letters to you in uppercase, I came to the idea.” He leaned back in his chair, crossing a leg over his knee.

“She writes the letter “z” in a distinct way, as you said, with a curl. When I confronted her, I asked her to write the word zebra on a piece of paper. She thought it was one of my clever word games and agreed immediately. I saw the curl, and I remarked on it. Then I said old habits die hard even when one tries to change—or disguise—them. I would recognize her letter “z” anywhere and had recognized it lately in her letters to Lady Agony.”

“Brilliant,” Amelia said. “A claim she could not doubt.”

“Or refute. If I had read the letters with my own eyes, then I must be Lady Agony.”

Hearing him say it still brought a smile to Amelia’s lips.

“Did she try to force you to name the Mayfair Marauder?” asked Simon.

“At first.” Oliver uncrossed his leg and came closer to the table.

“She is still sore about the ruby, although she said what really bothered her was the thief entering her bedroom.” He frowned.

“It seems she’s had trouble sleeping in there since the theft.

I feel bad about that, certainly, but it is no excuse for doing what she did. ”

Herself suffering from many a sleepless night, Amelia understood how a lack of sleep could affect a person’s wellbeing.

When the problem became chronic, it occupied more of a person’s mind than a person without the affliction might believe.

Not only that, but it led to general unease that, in this instance, Lady Hamsted blamed on the thief.

It did not excuse her letters, but it did add perspective to them.

“Once I told her I am conducting research on London thieves and could not name my source, she quit the topic. She thanked me for forcing the thief to return her jewel at once. She might have guessed Lady Agony had a personal interest in the outcome, she said.” He grinned at Amelia.

“If only she knew how right she had been.”

“And it is thanks to you that she did not.” Simon held up his glass of port. “To Mr. Hamsted, a dear friend, renowned scholar—and intrepid deviant!”

Kitty and Amelia joined in the toast, and Oliver colored only slightly at Simon’s praise. When Kitty continued extolling his bravery, however, he quickly switched topics off himself. “How are the plans coming for your sister’s wedding?”

“Tolerably.” Amelia set down her glass. “If only I could come to a conclusion about Mr. Cross’s murderer, I would feel more at ease. The idea that someone murdered him so near his own church is abhorrent to me. The person must be caught before the wedding.”

Simon frowned. “You and Kitty learned of no new prospects at your meeting at St. George-in-the-East?”

“A prayer meeting,” Kitty quickly added when Oliver gave her a quizzical glance.

After she and Amelia told him about her secret pseudonym, Kitty had admitted to accompanying Amelia on some of her tasks.

Oliver was actually relieved at knowing the reason behind some of Kitty’s excursions.

Before this knowledge, he was left to guess at the cause of a tear in her dress or a leaf in her hair.

Still, he made both Kitty and Amelia promise that they would include him if future tasks included physical danger, which they promptly did.

“The only prospect it illuminated was a possible arsonist at the Plate however, she did worry about his clumsiness.

He could be physically awkward when it came to parties or events.

But in a task that involved document retrieval? He would surely be capable.

“Then we have a plan.” Kitty couldn’t contain her excitement and clasped her hands together. “Oliver and I will fetch you and Lord Bainbridge tomorrow, and to the vicarage we shall go.”

“Do wait until after breakfast,” said Amelia. “I promised Winifred a game of jacks.”

Oliver crossed his arms. “You certainly live a double life, Lady Amesbury. Countess, mother, authoress. How do you keep it up?”

She looked at the sympathetic eyes returning her glance. “With a great deal of help from my friends.”