Chapter 2

"I have always loved truth so passionately that I have often resorted to lying as a way of introducing it into the minds which were ignorant of its charms."

Giacomo Casanova

Julius arrived at Ridley House with Brendan's letter in his hand. The past weeks had been a frustrating exercise in futile intelligence gathering. The more he learned about the suspects on their list, the less he knew about the murder of the baron. It had been a kick in the gut to receive word from Brendan earlier that day.

It happened again. I have doubled the guards. - Filminster

Damn Brendan, and his vagueness. What happened again? Was anyone injured? Julius lifted the heavy brass knocker on the front door and brought it down in hard taps.

A few minutes later, the door swung open and Julius found Michaels staring back at him.

"Are they safe?"

The older man, known for his reticent attitude, shut his eyes for a moment before nodding. Julius experienced a wash of relief, stepping forward to pat the butler on his shoulder. Michaels had averted a great tragedy when the baroness had been attacked nearly a month earlier, and Julius was profoundly grateful for the retainer's sacrifice in killing her assailant.

"Good man. Where are they?"

Michaels gestured up at the large drawing room, stepping aside to allow Julius entry. Julius climbed the stairs two at a time in his haste to learn what had happened. Under normal circumstances, he would compose himself before entering, to don a mask of idle insouciance, but he did not bother this time. Sweeping into the room, he found Brendan and the baroness seated on a settee under the window.

"Ridley!"

Brendan took to his feet, his expression one of distress. As Julius approached, he noted that the baroness's face was pale and pinched.

"What happened?"

Brendan ran a hand through chestnut curls that appeared to have been raked with great vigor into disheveled disarray. "Lily was in … We had another attempt to breach Ridley House."

Lady Lily Ridley, a petite elf with chocolate brown hair, peered up at Julius, her eyes huge against her pallid features. It was obvious she was recovering from a great shock.

"I … visited the library this morning to fetch a book before breakfast, while it was still rather gloomy outside. I was in there for several minutes before I felt a draught in the room. When I looked over to the window, I saw a ruffian climbing in and screamed for help."

Julius realized with frustration that Lily's voice was hoarse—she must have screamed with vigor if it had inflamed her throat. Anguish rose as Julius considered the brave bride who had saved his chum from the gallows. If anything happened to her … Julius admitted the baroness had stolen into his heart as a dear friend for her courage in defending Brendan. Despite his aversion to forming bonds with women, she was one of his allies now, someone under his personal protection. This continued campaign by the killer to search Ridley House for evidence of his identity was beyond the pale.

The baroness rose to take hold of his hand. "Trafford, you must not concern yourself. I am fine. We are fine. Brendan and I have made arrangements to stay with his sister and the Duke of Halmesbury. They have ample staff and are hiring guards to protect Markham House. Please … do not worry."

Julius stared down at her, uncertain what to say. They barely knew each other, but what he knew of Lily Ridley, he admired with his entire being. Raising his gaze to Brendan, he licked his lips as he imagined what might have happened. The baroness was so tiny, she could have been overcome with ease or stolen from them. It was fortunate she had an impressive pair of lungs to aid in her survival. Her many years as a chatterbox had served her well today.

"This is … this is … this has gone too far!" Julius could hear the passion in his voice, and normally he would calm himself and adopt a languid posture and pretend that none of this caused anguish.

But it does! This has gone too far!

Brendan nodded. "I agree, but there is little to be done about it. We have to press on."

Julius released the baroness and began to pace, his thoughts whirling. "Our investigations are moving far too slowly! There has to be some method of shaking this loose. We know the killer is watching the house."

Brendan cocked his head. "Well … it is more accurate to state that we know his men are watching the house."

"What of Smythe?"

"Abbott is following him. He hopes to learn something soon."

The other heir, the baroness's brother, had since married the young lady he had compromised on the night of the ball, resulting in an unusual tutoring session from Julius on Abbott's wedding day.

Their lackluster progress to date had whittled their list of six suspects down to four, including Smythe, who was now Abbott's father-in-law.

"Yet, we still have another three men on the list and I cannot learn anything new. I have gathered information, followed them around, and nothing … They attend meetings and go about their day as if nothing has occurred. A peer has been killed, his heir has been accused of murder, his bride has been attacked—there must be more that we can do! Something to draw the killer out! We know he lurks about in the shadows! What we need to do is drive him"—Julius yanked the glove off, shoving it into his pocket before twisting on his signet ring—"drive him into making a mistake!"

Julius hoped that Smythe turned out to be innocent, or Abbott would be trapped in hell when forced to accuse his own father-in-law of murder. It was one of several reasons Julius was compelled to spend so much of his time investigating the other suspects. He hoped to reveal a culprit other than Smythe.

Lady Filminster had reseated herself, and was watching Julius with curiosity. "How do you propose to do that?"

Julius paused to stare out the window above her head, thinking. If anything happened to Brendan, or the baroness, Julius would never forgive himself for allowing it to unfold. "I do not know, but I will think of something."

Brendan cleared his throat. "Thank you … for all you are doing to assist us."

Julius nodded, but his thoughts were occupied by the conundrum before him. How to draw the killer out and end this farce? "It is nothing."

He left Ridley House soon after that, a glimmer of an idea beginning to form, but he did not think the others would agree. It was a plan he would need to execute by himself, which was for the best. He worked better alone.

It was early evening,and Audrey was in the library, awaiting the announcement of dinner. Flapper, her wounded starling, was on the mend, and Audrey had found herself, yet again, with little to occupy her attentions. She was reading a fusty tome on physiology when a footman interrupted her from the door.

"Miss Gideon?"

Audrey looked up from her notes. "Yes, Howard?"

"His lordship wishes to speak with you. He is in his study."

She nodded, closing her journal and stacking her books in a neat pile for her return in the morning. Her endless days of leisure in the earl's home were driving her mad. She was bored out of her mind, so being summoned for an audience was a novelty to break the monotony of her life since her arrival in London. If she had been able to treat patients, it would have made the grief bearable, but instead she wasted away in this great London townhouse, remembering the past. Perhaps she would hear from the guild soon, and she could make plans for her future accordingly.

Dutifully, Audrey headed to the study farther down the hall, curious what the earl wished to speak with her about. Lord Stirling had been busier than usual these past two weeks. Since the quarrel with Lord Trafford, if memory served. The earl was always engaged in work, but catching sight of him had been a rare event since the argument. Considering the content of it, Audrey wondered if his son had upset him with the discussion of the earl's estranged wife.

Audrey had not been aware of why Lady Stirling and her daughter had been absent these past years. Embarrassment assailed her over the knowledge she now possessed because of her inadvertent intrusion into their private family affair. It had been worthwhile, she assured herself, because her little patient would take flight soon.

Audrey stopped in front of a gilt-framed mirror in the hall to check her hair. Re-pinning some of her wayward locks, she reflected on a simpler time when she had been considered an attractive country lass. Here in London, she was a disheveled mess by high society standards. Constant fussing with her appearance to prevent criticism had become an endless chore. Audrey longed to return to the village where she could go about her day unencumbered.

Assessing her hair from different angles, she decided it would have to do. Turning, she knocked on the study door.

"Enter."

Audrey unlatched the door and stepped inside.

Lord Stirling was an imposing peer with a warm charm that made him likable to most. However, Lord Trafford was correct in that the earl had grown ever more grim over the years. Audrey recollected a time when he had smiled and laughed freely. And, she supposed, the shift to solemnity had been worsened after Lady Stirling's departure. Not that Audrey had spent much time in their company before Papa had died earlier in the year. But there had been dinners and gatherings in Stirling, where she had observed them from afar. Now that she was thinking on it, it was possible that Lord Trafford's attire had grown ever more colorful in approximate correlation to the earl's descent into grimness.

"Good evening, your lordship."

"Audrey, you look lovely this evening."

The earl was ever polite, but Audrey could perceive his mind was elsewhere.

"Thank you, Lord Stirling."

He was standing at the mantel, his expression bemused. He glanced up at the portrait of his wife for a second before continuing.

"I have some business to take care of on the Continent, which means I will be leaving at first light."

Audrey nodded. The earl left on Crown business from time to time, so it was not unexpected. He usually forewarned her by more than a few hours, but she supposed something urgent had arisen without warning.

"Lady Hays is not in Town, so I have arranged to have Lady Astley collect you in the morning."

Audrey's heart plummeted into her slippers. "Lady Astley?"

"That is correct."

She scrambled to think of an alternative proposal. Lady Astley was an embittered noblewoman who embodied all the worst traits of high society. She was also very proper and not to be offended. Audrey would be restricted to feminine pursuits that Lady Astley deemed suitable … which would drive her demented until she was begging to be removed to Bedlam.

"How … long … will you be gone?"

The earl took a moment to respond, as if he had not heard her. "It could be as much as two weeks."

Audrey nodded, her thoughts still scrambling. There must be something she could do. "What if I remain here? I would not want to inconvenience Lady Astley."

The earl shook his head. "You must have a chaperone. Next month, your mourning period will be over, which means we can begin the hunt for an appropriate husband. Your reputation must remain pristine."

Audrey's heart sank from her slippers into the servants' hall belowstairs. They had not discussed what would happen when her mourning period was over, but finding an appropriate husband was not in her plans. She did not wish to be disrespectful, but …

"Perhaps the maid assigned to me could act as a chaperone? She has accompanied me to the bookshop, and to the modiste?"

"It will not do for a prolonged period, I am afraid. Lady Astley is a peeress of quality who will ensure that there is no doubt of how you spent your days."

Audrey wished to stomp her feet and howl in protest. She would spend her days in a great depression if she were in the Astley household. Better to be a Bedlamite! Her ladyship was horrid beyond words. Audrey would be lucky to be allowed her books at all. She doubted Flapper would be ready to take flight in the morning. Would she be permitted to care for the starling under Lady Astley's censorious watch?

The earl had been kind and generous in taking her in, but he did not understand the life she had led in Stirling as her father's apprentice. She had treated patients, taken care of the ill and injured, been a person of consequence in their village.

In London, she was nobody. A hindrance living in the earl's household. The moment she came of age, she would take control of her inheritance and forge her own path, but in the meantime, she needed to be grateful for the assistance Lord Stirling had provided in her hour of need.

"I … understand."

What could she say? The Season was over, and most members of high society had left Town. Lady Astley must be the last remaining noblewoman of his acquaintance whom the earl could prevail on at such short notice.

Drat! It is going to be an awful fortnight!

She could only hope that Lord Stirling was successful in his mission and returned in good time. And that the weather remained fair to facilitate a speedy journey.

Julius knewit was a terrible idea. Not one of his friends or acquaintances would support it. It was reckless. Brazen. Rash. Idiotic. Which meant Julius was in his element.

Since his friends had each irrevocably tied the knot over the past two years, he had grown dissatisfied with his idle pursuits. He had no interest in following his chums into matrimonial hell, but found himself stuck in a half-life. Too bored to carouse. Too bored to attend events. Determined to not grow up.

He had considered visiting his mother in Paris, to bury himself in the pleasures to be found there, but the notion held little appeal. If Julius were honest, Lord Snarling was not incorrect—his mother would disapprove of whom he had become. This decision had absolutely nothing to do with his last trip over the Channel when he spewed his guts into a bucket for the entire journey.

It pained him that he was rebelling against his austere father with ludicrous behavior and outlandish fashion, but it was the only escape he found from the march of time. Julius had no desire to become a humorless old goat like Lord Snarling, so he was fighting against any inclination to mature.

Which was why, despite his fears for Brendan and the baroness, or his worries over Abbott's forced marriage, Julius was chipper while inking his notes to the three remaining suspects. He was tempted to prepare one for Smythe, but Abbott was investigating his father-in-law and Julius knew it would be overstepping to insert himself.

Nay, he would focus his energies on the remaining men on the list.

Henry Montague, heir to Lord Montague. Julius had established through his investigations that Montague had a penchant for gambling. That had been a promising clue. Perhaps Montague was desperate for funds. Desperate enough to commit murder to ensure no one stood in the way of his inheritance. But, from what Julius could learn, Montague's wagers were not reckless. The man usually won more than he lost.

Then there was Simon Scott, half-brother to Lord Blackwood. A charming and handsome gentleman with aspirations. There were no indications of dubious activities. Perhaps a strong ambition to succeed, and a ruthless approach to marriage, based on his choice of bride. Scott was courting a higher-ranking debutante, and Julius did not believe it was for her scintillating personality. She had the right pedigree but with few redeeming qualities, in Julius's estimation. The sort he steered clear of and who posed no threat of luring him into marriage. Julius would rather eat his own arm than spend more than a few minutes in her company.

And, finally, the vicar Edward Stone. A jolly, well-liked priest and youngest brother of Lord Harlyn. He seemed an unlikely suspect, content to administer to his flock in a local parish. But Stone could not be ruled out as a craven killer, determined to acquire wealth and power when his older brother passed on. Perhaps he needed the funds to fix the church roof?

One of these men could very well be a stone-cold, murderous thug who had bludgeoned the late baron in his private study.

Julius scratched out his letters to each, each with the same declaration. The singular difference between them was the location and the time.

He did not signhis name. This was a ploy to draw out the culprit. The guilty man, or one of his minions, ought to show at the unique location and time stated in the letter, desperate to discover who had written the note.

If none showed, then Julius had cleared them of suspicion. But if one did, Julius would know whom their culprit was and then they could limit their search for information to just one individual. It would help identify which deceased Peter had wed twenty years earlier and had a son by centralizing their search to fewer parishes which might contain the needed records.

Reckless, idiotic … but effective.

Donning a cape to mask his appearance, Julius set off to deliver the letters. By morning, he would narrow the field of suspects and end the frustrating slog of intelligence gathering. Anticipation made his steps buoyant as he contemplated the thrills the next day would bring.