then turned to Lord Ingram. “You are a captain, sir? Are you in the country for any length of time?”
“Permanently now. I returned to England with the intention of selling out—at the request of my family.”
Mr. Frake merely nodded. “Your elder brother died two years ago, I believe. Why didn’t you return then?”
Phyllida settled back in her chair, prepared to enjoy this. If anyone could put Lord Ingram in his place, she was willing to back this Runner. Nor would she mind learning a little bit more about the intriguing captain.
An ironic twinkle entered Lord Ingram’s eyes. “Blame Bonaparte. It was hardly a convenient moment in the war. We had suffered heavy losses at Corunna, if you remember. We were left with a pack of Johnny Raws and Wellesley needed every experienced officer he could get.”
Mr. Frake nodded and Phyllida gained the distinct feeling he had expected that answer.
“And what is the purpose of your visit here this morning, m’lord?”
Ingram fingered the quizzing glass that hung about his neck. “Much the same as yours. To learn who murdered the marchioness.”
Mr. Frake made a quick note in his book then looked back at Lord Ingram. An intriguing gentleman, that, he thought, and rather interesting that he should return to England only days before the wife of his old friend should be murdered. And now he wanted to help find the killer. Very interesting.
He directed an appraising eye over Miss Dearne, who set a neat pleat in the rumpled fabric of her skirt. Strain showed on her fine-boned features, which was natural. The bleak expression in her eyes could be grief—or merely worry. There was an intelligence in the lines of that face which gave him pause. She was clever enough, he decided, to have rid herself of a younger sister who might well have made her life intolerable.
Both of these two were going to bear watching. He closed his Occurrence Book with a snap and replaced it in his capacious coat pocket. “If you will show me your sister’s room, miss?”
Miss Dearne blinked. “Have you no other questions?”
Smiling, he shook his head. “Not at present, miss. I’d just like a look-see, if you don’t mind.”
“Ah.” Miss Dearne nodded wisely. “To discover if I left any incriminating evidence lying about?”
“To see if we can’t gain some idea as to why someone would want to go and murder her. Unless you know, perhaps?”
The young lady glared at him. “Certainly not.”
“Everyone loved her, did they?”
Her jaw tightened. “ I did. Oh, I know she could be dreadfully difficult but she was my sister.” Her gaze remained on Frake. “You were acquainted with her. You were the one who recovered the diamonds when that maid—” She broke off, her expression arrested. “Could Louisa have been killed in revenge for something that happened over that?”
“It’s a possibility, miss—providing one of those people who went to your box during the interval was in some way involved. If any of them was, it’s more than I ever discovered.”
“Oh.” Miss Dearne drew a handkerchief from the reticule that dangled at her wrist then clutched it in distressed fingers. “Why did she summon you to the box last night?”
“Do you have any ideas on that, miss?”
Her hands clenched then she looked up to meet his gaze. “I thought at the time she did it to annoy the dowager.”
“And now?”
Miss Dearne smoothed out the muslin square. “I don’t know. It just seems such a coincidence, does it not? She didn’t by any chance arrange to meet you there, did she?”
“No, miss. But I’ve seen her at the opera before. And she’s seen me. I go regular-like. This was just the first time she called me up.”
“Then she might have expected to see you if-if for some reason she wished to consult with you?”
“She might have,” he conceded. “Had she given you any reason to think that was the case?”
“No. That is…she seemed somewhat preoccupied of late,
“Permanently now. I returned to England with the intention of selling out—at the request of my family.”
Mr. Frake merely nodded. “Your elder brother died two years ago, I believe. Why didn’t you return then?”
Phyllida settled back in her chair, prepared to enjoy this. If anyone could put Lord Ingram in his place, she was willing to back this Runner. Nor would she mind learning a little bit more about the intriguing captain.
An ironic twinkle entered Lord Ingram’s eyes. “Blame Bonaparte. It was hardly a convenient moment in the war. We had suffered heavy losses at Corunna, if you remember. We were left with a pack of Johnny Raws and Wellesley needed every experienced officer he could get.”
Mr. Frake nodded and Phyllida gained the distinct feeling he had expected that answer.
“And what is the purpose of your visit here this morning, m’lord?”
Ingram fingered the quizzing glass that hung about his neck. “Much the same as yours. To learn who murdered the marchioness.”
Mr. Frake made a quick note in his book then looked back at Lord Ingram. An intriguing gentleman, that, he thought, and rather interesting that he should return to England only days before the wife of his old friend should be murdered. And now he wanted to help find the killer. Very interesting.
He directed an appraising eye over Miss Dearne, who set a neat pleat in the rumpled fabric of her skirt. Strain showed on her fine-boned features, which was natural. The bleak expression in her eyes could be grief—or merely worry. There was an intelligence in the lines of that face which gave him pause. She was clever enough, he decided, to have rid herself of a younger sister who might well have made her life intolerable.
Both of these two were going to bear watching. He closed his Occurrence Book with a snap and replaced it in his capacious coat pocket. “If you will show me your sister’s room, miss?”
Miss Dearne blinked. “Have you no other questions?”
Smiling, he shook his head. “Not at present, miss. I’d just like a look-see, if you don’t mind.”
“Ah.” Miss Dearne nodded wisely. “To discover if I left any incriminating evidence lying about?”
“To see if we can’t gain some idea as to why someone would want to go and murder her. Unless you know, perhaps?”
The young lady glared at him. “Certainly not.”
“Everyone loved her, did they?”
Her jaw tightened. “ I did. Oh, I know she could be dreadfully difficult but she was my sister.” Her gaze remained on Frake. “You were acquainted with her. You were the one who recovered the diamonds when that maid—” She broke off, her expression arrested. “Could Louisa have been killed in revenge for something that happened over that?”
“It’s a possibility, miss—providing one of those people who went to your box during the interval was in some way involved. If any of them was, it’s more than I ever discovered.”
“Oh.” Miss Dearne drew a handkerchief from the reticule that dangled at her wrist then clutched it in distressed fingers. “Why did she summon you to the box last night?”
“Do you have any ideas on that, miss?”
Her hands clenched then she looked up to meet his gaze. “I thought at the time she did it to annoy the dowager.”
“And now?”
Miss Dearne smoothed out the muslin square. “I don’t know. It just seems such a coincidence, does it not? She didn’t by any chance arrange to meet you there, did she?”
“No, miss. But I’ve seen her at the opera before. And she’s seen me. I go regular-like. This was just the first time she called me up.”
“Then she might have expected to see you if-if for some reason she wished to consult with you?”
“She might have,” he conceded. “Had she given you any reason to think that was the case?”
“No. That is…she seemed somewhat preoccupied of late,
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