Page 27 of The Detective and the Baroness

Corrine gasped, her hand flying to her mouth in shock.

“As soon as Addington emerged from the residence, the hooded man waved down a hansom cab,” Mitchell continued. “I told my cab driver to follow the baron’s carriage, and for a while, the hooded man traveled in the same direction. However, the cab pulled off several streets before Addington’s house. I assumed it was a coincidence. I even tried to find the man and the cab, but was unsuccessful.”

Corrine’s eyes widened. “Could this be something?”

“Perhaps, or it could be coincidence. What color was the cloak?”

Corrine sipped her tea thoughtfully. “Dark brown. He had the hood pulled over most of his face and kept his head down. He said, ‘I need to talk to the baron. Now.’ I informed him the baron was unavailable, but he could leave his name and address with the butler, and I assured him that the baron would get back to him.”

“What about his voice?” Mitchell asked.

“Deep. Gravelly. Now that I think of it, the man could have disguised it, as the tone sounded unnatural. All I know is that I felt uneasy. Not fear as such, but a warning not to reveal too much information.”

Mitchell’s admiration for Corrine increased. “Very wise. What happened next?”

“He barked, ‘And who are you, then?’ and I replied I was the baroness. He laughed and said, ‘That old goat remarried? Trying for another heir, is he? He has more gumption in him than I thought.’ Then I realized he spoke of the late baron, Gilbert Addington. I informed him the old baron had passed, and my husband, a distant cousin, was now baron.”

Mitchell’s mind raced. Who could this stranger be? Perhaps he’d hung about the baron’s residence to see if what Corrine had told him was true. Or maybe there was something more to this. “What did he say to that revelation?”

“His head snapped upward briefly as if surprised by the news. I thought I saw scarring on the left side of his face, but I cannot be sure. Then he said, ‘I’ll seek out the new baron. I’ll be back soon. Tell him to expect me anytime.’ Meanwhile, I haven’t seen Travis to inform him about any of this.”

Mitchell placed his cup on the saucer. “And have you seen this stranger since?”

“No. Not at all. As I said, I placed the brief meeting from my mind. Should I be worried?”

Mitchell frowned. “When I saw the hooded man, his cloak was black and he wore a mask, which made me suspicious. That was why I’d tried to find him. But the man could own more than one cloak.”

Corrine sat forward, her eyes sparkling. “A long, hooded cloak is not what men generally wear, regardless of class. This man purposely tried to conceal his identity. But why? The fact he asked for the old baron leads me to believe he knew him well enough, or why else comment that Gilbert was trying for another heir? It means he was well aware of Gilbert’s son’s untimely death. I asked Thomason if he recognized the stranger, as the butler had been with Gilbert for years. But he claimed he could not see his face, nor did he recognize the voice.”

Mitchell smiled. “You are clever and resourceful. I can see why the Galway Agency hired you.”

Corrine blushed. “Well, I am not exactly hired, just an occasional operative. I wanted more of a challenge in my life now that I was no longer nursing, and the Galway sisters happily agreed to my suggestion.”

“Regardless, this was well done. You’re thinking like a detective. And your observations are well thought out. The man acted surprised by the news of Gilbert’s death, which could mean he was not in close contact with the old baron. Perhaps several years had passed between visits.”

Corrine passed him the sandwich plate, and he took three wedges. “We should question Thomason. Immediately. From what I could ascertain about the old baron, he became a recluse after his son’s death and his wife’s passing shortly thereafter. He rarely left this house.” Corrine stood. “Shall I ring for him?”

“Yes. Allow me to start with the questioning, but jump in any time you wish. Is the butler aware of the reason I’m here? How many servants do you have?”

“No, I do not believe he knows unless he’s had his ear to the door. Regarding servants, Gilbert did not have many, and Travis has not mentioned anything about hiring more. Only Thomason lives in. He has rooms in the downstairs area. There is a housekeeper/cook, a footman, and a maid-of-all-work. They generally arrive at seven every morning and are gone by six each night.”

“You do not have a lady’s maid?”

Corrine chuckled. “I have never had one. I always looked after myself, and I will continue to do so.”

“Go ahead and ring for the butler.”

*

Corrine nodded, then pressed the buzzer, and immediately sat beside Mitchell on the sofa. “One press is for the butler,” she whispered. “Two presses are for the footman, and so on.” She picked up her teacup and sipped, watching the door.

Thomason, a man in his mid-fifties, or so Corrine surmised, was not the friendliest of servants. But butlers were known to keep themselves removed from emotion, at least in her experience. She’d had to fire the Rothley family butler four months after her mother passed. Corrine remembered the man was aghast that a fifteen-year-old girl had given him his walking papers. The butler hadn’t acted removed from it at all that particular day. In fact, Johnson had insisted on seeing the viscount, and her father had tried to talk her around, but she’d stood her ground. Shortly after firing Johnson, she had to release two maids and the housekeeper. By the time Corrine had accepted Travis’s marriage proposal, they only had one part-time maid. That was Jeffery’s responsibility now.

Thomason entered the room. “You rang, my lady?”

“Yes. Detective Sergeant Simpson has a few questions for you. Please, take a seat.” Corrine waved her arm toward the empty wing chair.

The butler hesitated, for servants of any rank would never sit anywhere in the family’s living area. Looking discomfited, he sat in the leather chair.