Page 36 of A Murder at Kew Gardens

She nodded. “Benson knew everything.”

Of course he did. No man is a hero to his valet—and no man is a mystery to one, either.

“What else did he know?”

Claire’s mouth curved, faintly and despite herself.

“My husband’s little vanities.”

“Such as the looking glasses?”

“And his hair.”

“His hair?”

“He had begun losing it years ago. Benson used to make him a special pomade that was supposed to restore it.”

“Did it?”

“Not in the slightest. He remained as bald as before, though he faithfully applied it every evening.”

Despite everything, I laughed.

“This was Benson’s special concoction?”

“Yes. It smelled dreadful. Edmunds insisted it was improving matters.”

“But it was not.”

“No. It merely made him bald and faintly medicinal. Whenever we were intimate—never mind.”

I pressed my lips together. I could only imagine the scent of the man.

“Benson knew everything about him. Edmunds trusted him completely.”

The smile faded from my face. Secrets. Benson knew Edmunds’s secrets, and Crane had made a profession of other people’s secrets.

A private embarrassment. A potion fetched discreetly from a chemist. A vain husband. A trusted valet. A widow with much to lose. But the information did not simply fly through the air and settle where it pleased. Someone had carried it.

Half of what society knew about itself traveled below stairs long before it reached a drawing room. A man in Crane’s trade would have known where to shop. And a valet did not leave his knowledge behind with the pomade recipes when he left a house. It went where he went.

“What became of Benson after your husband died?”

Claire spent some time on the question. “He asked for a reference.”

“And you gave him one?”

“Of course. He had been a faithful servant. Edmunds liked him very much.”

“Do you know where he went?”

She frowned, thinking while the clock upon the mantel ticked softly and a carriage rolled past outside.

I kept my hands folded and my face pleasant and did not prompt her. Whatever she was reaching for, she would reach it sooner without my help.

“I believe I do,” she said at last.

I went still.