CHAPTER TWO

PHILIPPA

I sighed and inspected my gloved hand because on the subject as to why Andrew had made the claims against me that he had, I didn’t have an answer for the inspector.

“I can only assume this is Andrew’s attempt at trying to get back at me,” I said, feeling a wave of frustration washing over me. This whole thing was a huge misunderstanding and it had thwarted my day in the most inconvenient way. “He’s always resented me, ever since I married his father. But I never thought his resentment would go this far—especially after I’ve already provided him with three necklaces, all of which far outweighed the value of this one.”

Inspector Stirling’s eyebrows shot up at that and he stroked the end of one side of his mustache again, this time with his bandaged hand, as he appeared to be deep in thought for a second or more. “Did you?”

“I did.”

“And can you prove as much?”

I nodded. “You have simply to inquire with Hancocks & Co.”

The inspector nodded and then sighed as he shook his head and appeared even more perturbed than he had. “Mr. Fairfax failed to mention that.”

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest. “Of course, he did. He probably also failed to mention that not only did I purchase the home in which he currently resides, but I also provide him with ￡100 a month of my own inheritance I received when my father passed away. And I do so in honor of my late husband, not because I’m ordered to do so.”

His eyebrows lifted in surprise once more. Clearly, Andrew hadn’t painted the full picture for the inspector.

“Your purported generosity aside, Mrs. Fairfax—”

“It’s not purported if it’s a fact, Inspector.”

“It’s not a fact yet, as far as I’m concerned,” he responded rather crankily. Then he continued, clearing his throat as the frown returned to mar his face. “Do you have any proof that the necklace was indeed given to you by your husband?”

I shook my head and sighed. This was the sticking point. “No, I’m afraid not. But you should ask yourself, Inspector, why would I steal from my own family, especially given the fact that I don’t need to?”

His gaze was steady, his expression unreadable. “I’m sorry, Mrs. Fairfax, but it’s simply your word against Mr. Fairfax’s. And the only thing to call a spade a spade is your husband’s will.”

I gritted my teeth. “This is completely unfair.” I started to stand up then as I faced him with a frown, figuring I most probably would now need to procure a lawyer. What a bother. “Then I suppose you’ll let me know when my trial is to be set?”

“Aye, that is the way of things.”

I nodded. “Well, until then, I shall return home and await your response.”

Just as I was about to take a step towards the door, Inspector Stirling leaned forward and reached out to take my shoulder, pushing me back down into the chair I’d just vacated. It was a strange thing for him to do—invading my personal space in such a way—as if we were well known to one another. Left with no alternative, I sat again. But I was none too happy about it.

“Until I can verify your claim, I’m afraid I have no choice but to hold you here.”

I felt a surge of panic overtake me then as I thought about returning to the odious cells below. He couldn’t be serious! “Hold me? Here ? You mean, I’m under arrest?”

He looked at me as if I were daft in the head. “That’s exactly what you are.”

“But... I can pay whatever bail is required for my release.”

He shook his head. “Bail is at the discretion of the magistrate or judge handling the case and your case hasn’t even progressed that far, Mrs. Fairfax.”

“What does that mean?” I demanded, my heart now thumping away most uncomfortably in my throat.

“It means you will remain here until a judge decides what to do with you.”

“Or until you can prove I’m innocent?”

He cocked his head to the side and nodded, though his expression said he didn’t believe I was innocent.

I slumped back into the chair, suddenly feeling defeated and unsure of what to do next. This was not how I’d imagined my day going and I was starting to get more irritated by the second. I looked up at him then and frowned.

“I will have you know that I have an engagement later this evening, and a most important engagement at that. I don’t have time to be forced into one of your most unhygienic cells.”

The inspector arched a brow and appeared slightly amused for the first time since I’d entered his office. “An engagement?”

“A ball,” I replied, sitting up a little straighter. “Lord Abbott is hosting a gala this evening and he’s requested my presence—I am to be an honorary guest of sorts.”

And the amusement was suddenly gone from his expression just as quickly as it had arrived. “Why should I care about that?”

I rolled my eyes, figuring he wouldn’t understand. Not only was he a man, but he and I were cut from completely different bolts of fabric, as it were. “I’m something of a fashion icon to the ladies of the ton. As such, they’re expecting me to parade my newest gown at Lord Abbott’s ball—a gown imported from Paris, of course.”

“Of course,” he repeated with a facetious smile.

The gown had been created for me by my good friend and modiste, Augustine, who lived in Paris. And the only reason I’d agreed to parade this newest gown around the ton at Lord Abbott’s gala (I certainly wasn’t excited about acting the part of a living mannequin) was owing to the fact that I was doing a favor for my friend. Augustine, like me, was a single woman trying to make her way in society and I wanted to ensure that she succeeded. Seeing as how Lord Abbott was the owner of the Liberty department store and was interested in carrying Paris fashions, I’d agreed to sample all Augustine’s newest creations at his events.

But I doubted Inspector Stirling wanted to hear all of that, so I kept my mouth shut. Instead, I gave him an expression that showed him just how little I cared for his mockery. “Lord Abbott made a special comment about the reveal of this particular gown in his invitations, so it would be highly impolite of me not to attend.”

“And why should Lord Abbott have such an interest in you and your silly French gowns?”

I shrugged and pointedly decided to ignore the part about ‘silly, French gowns’. “He wishes to start carrying a line of French gowns in his Liberty department store.”

The detective had a serious look on his face, one that suggested he was about to tell me something I didn’t want to hear. “I’m sure all the ladies of the ton and Lord Abbott too, for that matter, will understand why you couldn’t attend your soiree as soon as it gets out that you were sitting in prison for stealing a diamond necklace that didn’t belong to you.”

I bristled at his comment, not appreciating his sarcasm. “I’m not going to be sitting in prison.”

He chuckled at that but the sound was void of any humor. “You, Mrs. Fairfax, don’t seem to understand just how much trouble you’re facing.” While I’d initially found his thick Scottish accent charming, now it just irritated me.

I huffed, crossing my arms over my chest. “I understand perfectly well, thank you. I just don’t see why I should be in trouble in the first place, because I’m telling you the truth.”

He raised an eyebrow, studying me for a moment. “You are in trouble, Mrs. Fairfax, because you were caught with a stolen necklace in your possession.”

I rolled my eyes. “Yes, I know that much. But if the system favored women as much as it favors men, I wouldn’t be in this mess to begin with.”

He let out another low chuckle. “Is that so? And what do you suggest I do about that?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe start treating women as equals in the eyes of the law?”

His lips twitched, but the smile never fully birthed itself on his mouth. Good thing too because that would only have enraged me, I was sure. “I’ll keep that in mind. In the meantime, I need to figure out what to do with you.”

“You could release me and allow this misunderstanding to work itself out?” I figured it was worth a shot.

His eyes narrowed slightly, his expression turning serious once more. “Forgive me for being a bit skeptical, given your past.”

My jaw clenched at that, because I had no idea what he was talking about. “What does my past have to do with any of this?”

He walked around his desk then and stood in front of it, just beside me, for a second or so before taking a seat on the edge of the desk and stretching his long legs out before him. He wrapped his arms against his chest, holding his bandaged hand close. Then he leaned forward, his eyes intent on mine. “As I understand it, Patrick died fairly soon after bringing you over from the continent. I can’t help but wonder if there was more to that particular story than meets the eye.”

I stiffened, my heart pounding, as anger and indignation began to flood me. “Are you suggesting that I had something to do with my husband’s death?”

Good Lord! The bloody nerve of the man! Who in hell did he think he was to say such a horrid thing to me?

I was already of the opinion that Inspector Stirling was a hard and dour man who probably hadn’t truly laughed a day in his life, but this! Well, this insinuation was just as shocking as it was irreverent.

He leaned further forward, his expression intense. “I find it suspicious that Patrick died so soon after you arrived in London.”

I glared at him, so completely insulted, I didn’t even know how to respond. I swallowed down the acid retort that was perched on my tongue and took three deep breaths as I tried to calm myself down, but I was truly and wholly livid. “As you’re well aware,” I managed to respond with a calm voice which was truly a feat in and of itself. “My husband died of tuberculosis, nothing sinister.”

Stirling didn’t appear convinced, but he didn’t say anything more on the topic and, instead, just studied me with narrowed eyes. “Tell me more about your life in America.”

“Why?”

A glare. “Because I’m asking.”

I matched his glare. “What do you want to know?” And why had this conversation taken such a personal turn?

“For starters: how did you meet Patrick Fairfax?”

I sighed—I really didn’t have the time for this, because it was true—Lord Abbott was throwing a gala this evening and if I wanted to be prepared for it, I needed to start those preparations in an hour or so. But, as I eyed the inspector, I was met with the feeling that he was used to playing by his own rules. And when in Rome... “My father was a notable archaeologist and traveled the world, giving lectures about the artifacts he found.”

He appeared surprised to hear that. “What is your maiden name?”

“Russe.”

Inspector Stirling nodded as if he recognized my surname, which wasn’t much of a surprise because my father had been very well known before he’d died. “Archibald Russe?”

“Yes.”

“I remember Patrick talking about attending your father’s lectures at the British Museum.”

I nodded. “That’s where I met Patrick—at the British Museum during one of my father’s tours.”

“Aye,” the inspector said, getting up and walking around his desk as he took a seat in his chair and then leaned back into it, bobbing up and down like a buoy on a turbulent sea. “And how did your relationship develop from there?”

“I don’t understand how this is pertinent to my case, Inspector.”

He continued to bounce back and forth, his fingers (well, except for the bandaged ones) steepled in front of him as he inspected me as if I were an exotic insect, dead and mounted beneath a sheet of glass.

“Humor me.”

I rolled my eyes and made a frustrated sound, but the stupid inspector continued to bounce in his stupid chair.

“Fine,” I breathed out the word on a sigh and gave him a look that said I was none too excited about having to recount such personal information. “After our initial introduction at one of my father’s lectures, Patrick began calling on me while my father and I were still in London.”

“How long ago was this?”

I glanced upwards as I tried to remember. “Perhaps eighteen months ago.”

“Go on.”

“After we returned to the states, Patrick even made a few trips out to Boston to visit me,” I continued, feeling a twinge of nostalgia for those early days of our courtship. I missed Patrick terribly and it was times like this, when I was reminded of our short time together, that made me miss him even more.

“Boston is where you’re from?”

I nodded. “During the times Patrick and I weren’t physically in the same country, we corresponded. My father and I made many trips here, to London, to visit him and sometimes he would meet us in other countries during my father’s tours.”

“Then I’m assuming the sudden fortune Patrick found himself with must have been yours?”

“Sudden fortune?”

The inspector nodded. “Your husband certainly earned a good wage as superintendent but nothing that would have enabled him to live the lavish lifestyle you must be accustomed to.”

I frowned, because it was impolite to speak of finances, but the inspector didn’t seem like someone who was concerned with propriety or common decency, for that matter. “My father uncovered many ancient relics and antiquities and in selling them to museums and private collections, he managed to earn a very respectable living.”

The inspector laughed at that. “I’d call your inheritance more than respectable, Mrs. Fairfax.”

“Call it what you will.”

He nodded, seeming to accept my explanation—at least for the time being. “Interesting. And what made you decide to settle in London?”

I shrugged. “Patrick—as Superintendent of Scotland Yard, wasn’t eager to leave his post.”

The inspector had stopped buoying in his chair and now leaned back, studying me with a thoughtful expression. “Yes, Patrick was the best at what he did. What I do find interesting though is that I worked with Patrick for years and yet I’m only just now meeting you.” And there was that suspicious expression again—only this time it was more pronounced.

“We had a long-distance courtship mostly,” I answered on a shrug. “Until sixteen months ago, when he asked me to marry him.”

“He proposed after only two months of courtship?”

I nodded. “And we were married two months after that, though it would still take me another few weeks to relocate from Boston to London... because my father was ill.” I breathed in deeply because I didn’t like discussing the deaths of the two most important people in my life. In general, I tried to banish such thoughts from my mind because the pain was always too much to bear. In my forty years on this planet, I felt as if I’d suffered quite a bit of death and sadness. “Then, after my father died, Patrick moved me out to London and after just a few months, he too was gone.”

“And then so were you.”

And here was the crux of the matter—the reason why the inspector had always been suspicious of Philippa Fairfax, before he’d ever even met me. “Yes, I left London directly after Patrick’s death,” I admitted.

“And why was that?” Another hostile expression.

I shrugged. “I couldn’t bear to live in London without him and I couldn’t return to America because I was haunted by the ghost of my father there, not literally, of course.”

He nodded. “Of course.”

“So, I moved to Paris for a year.” I swallowed hard as something occurred to me. “Did Patrick never speak of me?” I would have imagined that the inspector would have already known some of these details from Patrick, himself.

Inspector Stirling studied me for a few seconds before he released the breath he’d been holding. “He spoke of you, aye—often. That is, when he was here—in London. Towards the end of his life, I must admit he wasn’t here, in the office, very much. I shouldered the majority of his cases.”

Neither of us said anything more after that and the silence stretched between us for a good few seconds. Inspector Stirling just continued to look at me, as if trying to make me uncomfortable with the depth of his gaze. It was strange but I got the feeling that he was curious about me and not all of that curiosity was suspicion. Or perhaps I was simply imagining that last bit.

“So, Mrs. Fairfax,” he said finally, his Scottish accent thickening on my name. “There is still the matter of the diamond necklace.”

I breathed in deeply. “I swear to you, Inspector Stirling, that Patrick gave it to me as a gift. He said it was a family heirloom and he wanted me to have it on our wedding day.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Did he put that in writing anywhere, Mrs. Fairfax, because at this point, that’s the only way you’ll be able to prove your claim.”

I shook my head, feeling a surge of frustration. “No, he didn’t—or as far as I know he didn’t.” Then something occurred to me as I frowned at him. “Don’t you think it worthwhile to ask yourself why I would steal a necklace when I’m already an heiress to a vast fortune, as you so indecently put it?”

His eyebrows lifted momentarily and I got the feeling that it was a rare occasion when Inspector Stirling was challenged by someone. Then he looked at me shrewdly. “Your father’s fortune is no guarantee of your own financial stability, Mrs. Fairfax. People have been known to do desperate things for money.”

I glared at him, feeling insulted. “I’m not ‘people’. I’m a respectable widow and I would never stoop so low as to steal a piece of jewelry unless it was rightfully mine and something my husband intended me to have.”

He sighed, looking almost apologetic, but then he shrugged as if there was nothing more he could say on the subject. “My hands are tied, Mrs. Fairfax. Unless you can provide concrete evidence that the necklace was intended for you, I’m afraid I’ll have to charge you with grand theft.”