Never Trust a Rogue by Olivia Drake

forward, interest shining in her eyes. “You sound as if you are acquainted with His Lordship, then.”
    The girl knew nothing about Lindsey’s unconventional meeting with him—nor would she. “Only by the flimsiest connection. We were introduced at a party, that’s all.”
    She was saved from further inquiry by the arrival of the tea tray, delivered by a footman who placed it on a table near Jocelyn. At the girl’s behest, Lindsey sprang up to perform the role of hostess, pouring two cups of steaming liquid and adding a lump of sugar to both. She would have offered an additional cup to Fisk, but the plump old woman had dozed off over her sewing. As for Kasi, she only took food or drink prepared by her own hands, and anyway, the English rules drummed into Lindsey by Miss Underhill forbade treating a servant as an equal.
    Once Lindsey had passed out the tea and slices of plum cake, she deemed it time to steer the topic to her purpose.“I was wondering,” she said. “Would you perhaps know of a maid named Nelda? Until very recently, she worked next door for Lord Mansfield.”
    Jocelyn frowned thoughtfully. “Nelda. Yes, I believe she’s a dark-haired girl with the most unfortunate mole on her chin. Sometimes, when the other servants here were busy, she would help haul my bathwater from the kitchen.”
    “So you do know her!” Not wanting to appear overly enthused, Lindsey toned down her excitement. “Nelda is cousin to my abigail. The reason I brought up her name is that a few days ago Nelda went away without sending word to her family. You wouldn’t happen to know where she’s gone, would you?”
    “Oh my. She left? Without a word?” Her eyes widening, Jocelyn set aside her teacup. “I hope she hasn’t come to foul play. Especially considering . . .”
    “Yes?”
    Jocelyn glanced over at Fisk, who was snoring softly, her chin propped on her massive bosom. The girl fixed her guileless gaze on Lindsey and said in a confiding whisper, “I don’t wish to alarm you, but there is a madman roaming the streets at night. Have you heard of the Serpentine Strangler? He has been murdering maidservants all over London.”
    Lindsey nearly choked on a sip of tea. “I’m aware of the case. There have been two victims, no more. But really, you shouldn’t know of such sordid crimes. Who told you?”
    “No one in particular. I have excellent hearing. People seem to think that being crippled means my senses are dulled. But it’s really quite the opposite.” A hint of slyness touched Jocelyn’s smile. “I’m especially good at pretending to be asleep while the servants are gossiping. One can learn all sorts of interesting tidbits that way.”
    “I see. Well, I doubt Nelda has come to such an untimely end. She very likely found a better position in another house. It’s just a matter of finding out where.”
    “Mmm. You could be right.” Jocelyn swirled a dainty fingertip in the crumbs of plum cake on her plate. “And yet, considering that Lord Mansfield is such a wicked rake, I can’t help but wonder. . . .”
    His name poked like a thorn into Lindsey. “Wonder what?”
    Jocelyn peeked from beneath her lashes. “Perhaps the earl had his way with Nelda. Perhaps she had conceived his baby, and he did away with her before the scandal could come to light. Perhaps she’ll be found strangled like those other girls.”
    Lindsey almost dropped her cup. Jocelyn was worse than Blythe at wild speculations. Was it just that she had so much time alone here to dream up tall tales to amuse herself? Or had close proximity enabled her to know Mansfield’s character better than anyone else?
    The Earl of Mansfield couldn’t possibly be the Strangler.
    Yet Nelda
was
missing from his house.
    And Blythe had reported that one of the murdered maids had been on her way to meet a gentleman lover.
    Lindsey had a sudden, clear memory of Mansfield walking into Lord Wrayford’s study accompanied by a comely maidservant.
    The icy