Page 69 of The Hidden Heart

“I most certaintly would not!” the other man shot back, his face settling into its most aristocratic lines. “It is scarcely any of your business. And a woman’s reputation is concerned.”

“Since that woman is dead, I doubt that her reputation really matters now. And when someone dies in my house, then it is most definitely my business. Are you refusing to explain? Is that what I shall have to tell the magistrate—that only Lord Kestwick concealed information?”

Kestwick sneered, but he said, “All right, then, yes. I had an…interlude with the woman. We are both adults. And she is—was—an attractive woman, a widow. It isn’t as if I seduced an innocent. Besides, since you were spying on me, I assume that you also saw Mrs. Woods leave my room. I went to sleep after that. I never saw her again until you found her lying at the bottom of the stairs.”

He looked at the duke for a moment, his expression cool, even challenging. “You know, Cleybourne, one is tempted to ask where you were when all this was happening. It strikes me that you were the first one to reach the foot of the stairs.”

Richard said nothing, merely nodded toward Cobb, who immediately rose to his feet and opened the door to usher Lord Kestwick out.

“Damme!” Cobb said, stepping back into the room after Kestwick had gone. “That one’s a cold fish. When I think I was standing right next to him when he was looking down at that poor woman. I never would have guessed he’d even spoken to her, and him having just—” He broke off, shaking his head. “I’ll never understand the gentry.”

“Unfair, Mr. Cobb,” Richard said with a faint smile, “to paint all of us with the same brush as Lord Kestwick. It is not his degree of birth that makes him cold, it is his heart. Unfortunately, he’s right. She did leave his room and go back to her own. I saw her.” Richard cursed softly, pushing himself away from his desk. “If only I had continued watching!”

Cobb shrugged. “Well, we all have to sleep, Your Grace. No sin in that.”

“No. Of course not.” Richard glanced over at Jessica and just as quickly looked away. “Still, it seems the devil’s own luck…”

“There’s just one of them left to question, Your Grace,” Cobb said. “Shall I bring him in?”

“Yes. Although I doubt Mr. Talbot will have anything pertinent to offer,” Richard said.

He was right in that. Darius came in, and except for one initial glance at Richard, he spent the rest of the time looking anywhere but at his interregator. He had, predictably, seen and heard nothing, and disclaimed all knowledge of Mrs. Woods or her whereabouts that evening.

“Useless,” Richard said disgustedly as soon as Darius was out the door. “Well, I would say the only thing that’s left to us now is to search the woman’s room.”

Jessica was pleased to note that he made no attempt to exclude her from this activity but seemed to assume that she would join him and Mr. Cobb. She thought that Mr. Cobb viewed at her with some curiosity, but he obviously did not dare to question a duke.

The three of them went up the stairs to Mrs. Woods’ room, where one of the footmen was sitting beside the door, keeping watch. Richard opened the door, and they stepped inside, lighting the old lamp that lay on her dresser.

For a moment they stood hesitantly in the middle of the room, looking around. It seemed macabre, a violation of the woman, to be searching through her things after she was dead. Finally Richard sighed and said, “Well, it can’t be helped. However little we might want to, we have to search the room. We don’t even know where she came from or where she was going, or whom to notify about her death.”

Jessica nodded and went to the wardrobe, opening it. There were only a few dresses hanging in it. She had not bothered to take out more than just a few things, Jessica supposed. The trunk at the foot of the bed yielded more clothes.

“Look at these,” Jessica said, pulling out one rose satin dress.

Cleybourne looked at it. “Yes. Very pretty.”

“No, I mean look at how different it is from the dresses we saw on Mrs. Woods. She wore dark colors—navy, dark green—and they were very plain. These are beautiful dresses, rich fabrics, bright colors, plenty of lace and decorations. It is odd that she has such different types of clothing. And another thing…”

She shut the trunk lid and stood up, struck by a thought. “I don’t know why this didn’t occur to me before. These clothes, and even the ones she wore every day, plain and dark though they are, are of nice materials and well-made. They were expensive.”

“And what was someone who could afford expensive gowns doing traveling by mail coach?” Richard asked, finishing her thought.

“Exactly.” Jessica moved to the dresser, pointing to the silver-backed toiletry set that sat there. “These are expensive, too.”

“Almost anyone can fall on hard times,” Richard said. “She could once have had money and lost it but still have the things she owned back then.”

“That’s true,” Jessica conceded. For a time, after the scandal, she had still had some trinkets and gowns that were much too expensive for her circumstances. “One sells the jewelry and furniture and such, but no one wants to give you money for ball gowns already worn.”

Richard considered her words but said nothing, just continued opening the drawers of the dresser and pulling out objects.

“Didn’t Reverend Radfield strike you as acting oddly?” she asked, picking up the various pots and jars that he was pulling from the drawers and examining them. It was obvious that Mrs. Woods had used cosmetics to enhance her appearance.

“You mean other than having illicit relations with married women?”

“Yes. He was so shaken when she died. He looked as if he were about to faint. And he said the prayer a little wrong, and that last thing he said—about her dying hereafter? That isn’t religious. I am sure it’s from Shakespeare—Macbeth, I believe.”

“Perhaps he is literary. No doubt he isn’t used to seeing dead bodies every day.” Richard gave her a sardonic look. “You realize, Miss Maitland, that if you were a properly genteel woman, you would have fainted or had hysterics or something of that sort.”