Chapter 19

CHAPTER 19

N oelle tapped her foot impatiently as she set another puff pastry into her mouth while Hattie watched her with wide eyes. The young women present – Noelle, Hattie, Hermione, Brighton, and Lady Jennifer, who had just joined them – sat together in one corner of the room.

While Hattie’s eyes remained rimmed in red and her sniffles had yet to abate, Lady Jennifer was surprisingly collected for a woman who had lost her brother potentially to murder.

“How are you holding up, Jennifer?” Noelle asked, which caused Hattie to let out another hiccup.

“Fine,” she said in her usual one-word answer.

“Do you truly think it is best to take his body home?” Hermione asked, posing her question in that headlong way that only Hermione could.

“He would have wanted to be buried close to my parents,” Jennifer said, while Noelle sat back and assessed her, wondering if, perhaps, Jennifer had another reason for wanting to remove the body from the investigation – and distance herself from it as well. On the other hand, Noelle could understand not wanting to be surrounded by reminders of what had happened.

“When will you leave?” Noelle asked.

“This afternoon, if possible,” she said. “The weather is still clear, so we might as well.”

Noelle nodded absentmindedly, her mind still on Cooper and the current questioning. She wondered if they would ask her next, concerned that they shouldn’t have time to coordinate their stories. Of course, it was too late for that.

“How many pastries are you going to eat?” Brighton asked Noelle, watching her pick up another Chelsea bun. She couldn’t help that she ate too much – particularly sweets – when she was nervous.

“Does it matter?” Noelle asked.

“You’re not married yet,” Brighton said, looking down her nose at Noelle, who rolled her eyes. Cooper had seemed more than happy with the curvier parts of her body, although she wouldn’t supply Brighton with any more information to gossip about.

“Which begs the question,” Hermione said, leaning forward, “Are you marrying so quickly because you have no other choice?” Her eyes flicked down to Noelle’s stomach and then back up.

“No,” Noelle said around her pastry. “Not at all. We are marrying quickly because we truly want to be married and want to do this properly. It seemed a perfect time with family and friends already gathered.”

“Not his friends,” Hermione commented.

“No,” Noelle said, guilt filling her that she hadn’t considered that yet. “Not his friends. Perhaps we can have another ceremony when we return to London.”

“It’s just unusual, is all,” Hermione said with a shrug, and Noelle had to force her smile as she tamped down what she would honestly like to say.

“I understand,” she said. “However, your mother seemed quite happy for us to be married here, which I appreciate, as I no longer have my mother to look out for me.”

That caused Hermione to stop talking. What retort could she offer?

Noelle gritted her teeth, ready to change the subject, when Cooper walked in. His eyes went straight to her, and he gave her the most imperceptible nod as though to tell her everything was all right.

Before they could speak, Lord Burton walked in and requested her presence.

She had been right.

She squeezed Cooper’s hand as she walked by him, her heart racing at the thought of what was to come. She didn’t have anything to hide and hoped that having men without titles on the jury would remove the disadvantage he faced among the noble set.

Still, she couldn’t help clenching her hands tightly in her lap when she took the seat on the sofa, trying to take comfort in its warmth as she reminded herself that Cooper had sat here minutes before, that he was close by, and that she wasn’t truly alone.

She raised her eyes to the twelve men sitting in front of her, who ranged from laborers to artisans to merchants from the nearby Guilford – at least, from what she guessed based on their dress.

They were all staring at her with frank curiosity, and she tried to manage a smile to appear friendlier.

Mr. Briggs sat in front of them, pen and paper on his lap, while another man, white-haired with a bushy white beard, who she assumed was the magistrate, sat to the other side of the room, away from the jury.

“Lady Noelle, thank you for speaking to us.”

She nodded, biting her tongue so she wouldn’t tell them it wasn’t as though she’d had much choice.

“We are trying to ascertain what occurred the night Lord Northbridge died,” Mr. Briggs said. “Can you please tell us when you last saw the victim?”

“Of course,” she said demurely. “It was at dinner that evening. We ate together, and then the ladies retired to the drawing room. The gentlemen joined us after an hour or so. Some began to play cards, and when I retired for the evening, Lord Northbridge was still there, as were all of the men he was playing with.”

“Very good. Do you remember what the men were speaking about?”

“I was not close enough to hear.”

“When you retired for the night, did Mr. Hartwell accompany you?”

“Not immediately,” she said, hoping Cooper said the same. “My lady’s maid helped me prepare for bed. I tried to sleep but was having difficulty, so… I went to speak with my fiancée.”

Her cheeks burned red, even though she knew she had nothing to be embarrassed about. Still, she had no idea what these men would think of her, nor who they would tell of her actions.

But this was worth it if it meant protecting Cooper.

“He was in the room when you entered?” Mr. Briggs asked, showing no emotion.

“He was,” she confirmed. “He opened the door for me and allowed me in.”

“What did you do?”

She lifted her chin. “That, Mr. Briggs, is of no business to anyone in this room. Suffice it to say that I was with him and that neither of us left.”

There was a low murmuring among the jury, while Mr. Briggs glanced over to the magistrate, who waved him forward, obviously accepting her answer.

“Very well,” he grumbled, showing his first bit of annoyance. “How long did you remain in the room?”

“I would suppose it was less than an hour, although I lost track of time,” she said, biting her lip, hoping that her expected throes of passion would forgive her uncertainty over how long she was supposed to have been in the room with Cooper. “I was there when we heard the noise from outside the window.”

“Explain the noise, please.”

“It sounded like a gunshot,” she said. “Which, I suppose it was.”

“How many gunshots did you hear?”

“We heard the first right away,” she said. “The second was delayed but sounded a few moments later.”

“What did Mr. Hartwell do at this time?”

“He looked out the window, but he couldn’t see anything,” she said, remembering the story they had discussed last night before falling asleep. “He then put on his wrapper and told me to stay in the room while he went to see what had happened.”

“What did you do?”

“I did what he said. I stayed in the room. When I heard noise out the window, I looked out to see what was happening below me, but I couldn’t see anything properly until Lord Burton stepped outside with the lantern and cast light on everything.”

“What did you see then?”

“Coop—Mr. Hartwell had fallen over Lord Burton’s body.”

“How was he reacting?”

“He was shocked, from what I could tell,” she said.

“Then you stayed in the bedroom?”

“When I saw other guests emerging into the night and heard ladies in the corridor, I joined them,” she said. “Mr. Hartwell had asked me to stay so I would be safe, but I assumed all would be fine once we gathered as a group.”

“Do you have any reason to suspect that Mr. Hartwell might have wanted to kill Lord Northbridge?”

Noelle swallowed hard before tightening her fingers around one another and squeezing her knees together as she sat as tall as possible.

“It is no secret that Mr. Hartwell and Lord Northbridge did not get along well,” she said, knowing that the story would come out, so she might as well tell her version of the events, as damning as it might be. “Lord Northbridge was forceful with me earlier the evening before. Mr. Hartwell saved me from him and his threats,” she said, having to clear her throat, surprised at the emotion telling the story that arose within her.

“They had words,” she continued. “However, Mr. Hartwell is not the type of man who would ever kill someone.”

“What do you know of Mr. Hartwell’s background?”

Perspiration broke out on Noelle’s brow, which she hoped would not be evident to the men seated before her.

“Not a great deal,” she admitted. “I know that his family was slightly impoverished when he was young, but he worked hard to become the man he is today.”

“Do you have any other reason to suspect him?”

“Not at all,” Noelle said firmly. “He is a good man, Mr. Briggs. I would not be marrying him otherwise.”

She hoped that the confidence she had infused in her voice, the conviction she felt, would come across to these men and cause them to believe in her.

“Very well, Lady Noelle. You are free to go,” Mr. Briggs said upon what appeared to be approval from the magistrate in the corner.

Lord Burton was waiting outside the door – likely listening at the keyhole, if Noelle had to guess – and escorted her to the parlor, where most of the guests were now congregated, at least so it seemed from the piano music floating toward the drawing room.

She found no sign of Cooper, but her father greeted her, worry on his face.

“Noelle,” he said, placing his hands on her arms. “How are you?”

“I’m fine, Father, truly,” she assured him before lowering her voice and looking around to ensure no one was listening to them. “My greatest concern is that Cooper will be blamed for this simply because he is not considered one of us.”

“Well,” her father said, squaring his usually stooped shoulders back, “he will be my son-in-law soon, which makes him part of our family. And I do not want to see anyone in our family hurt.”

“Thank you, Father,” she said, blinking away the tears that threatened. “That means more than you know.”

He patted her arm somewhat awkwardly, clearly unsure of how to show his affection for her, but she appreciated it all the same.

“Have you seen Cooper?” she asked, looking around, and her father frowned.

“He followed you out when it was time for your inquiry,” he said. “I assumed he would wait and return with you.”

“No,” she said, tapping her fingers together. “I believe he considers himself something of a private investigator in this matter. I’m sure he’ll return shortly.”

“Hopefully,” her father murmured. “We cannot create any further cause for suspicion.”

“Cooper seems to know what he’s doing,” she said with confidence that she didn’t entirely feel. “I’m sure of it.”

Or, at least, she hoped.

She had fallen for a man for the first time in her life.

She wasn’t about to allow him to become convicted of murder.