Ashley Gardner - A Regimental Murder

He sounded like Kenneth Spencer. "Her husband was accused of murder," I said dryly. "That would certainly be upsetting."

For one instant his affable expression vanished. Beneath it I glimpsed something ugly and hard, a glittering sharpness. It was a flash only, then his fatuous smile returned.

"Even so," he went on, "I do not like what the events of the past month have done to her. I will ask you to please have done discussing it with her." He clasped his hands. "I have asked her to go to her daughter, but she refuses. You can certainly see that such a thing would be better for her."

"On that point, I can concede." When Lydia had lifted her glass, I was alarmed to see how much her too-thin hand had trembled. The country air could only do her good.

"Excellent," Allandale said. "I do appreciate your interest, but really, Captain, this business must stop." He gave a decided nod, as though he expected his word to be final on the subject.

I opened my mouth to tell him that not talking of it did not mean the deed had not been done, but William, Lydia's footman, opened the door on us. "Forgive me, sir."

Allandale swung on him, then quickly rearranged his expression. "Yes, William. What is it?"

"Message for you, sir." The boy advanced across the carpet, a folded paper in his hand.

Allandale took the note, unfolded it, and read the two lines penned there. He blew out his breath. "Devilish nuisance. Forgive me, Captain, but there is business I must take care of. William, please send for the carriage to take Captain Lacey home. I will hire one for my errand."

He shook my hand, his polite mask returning. "Pleased that you should dine with us, Captain."

He crumpled the paper, his brow creasing even as he turned away.

He marched from the room. I followed more slowly. Lydia had not dismissed me, and I certainly would not rush to obey the upstart Mr. Allandale.

I looked in at the dining room, but Lydia had gone. Disappointed, I proceeded downstairs, and reached the ground floor just as Allandale was gathering his hat and gloves from the young footman.

Allandale looked up at me. "Good night, Captain," he said firmly. He went out. The front door closed.

William's expression performed an instant transformation. The deferential footman's mask vanished, his young eyes twinkled, and he almost smiled. He raised his finger to his lips.

On the other side of the door, Allandale tramped away, his footsteps soon lost in the noise of traffic. William turned, nearly quivering with glee. "Please come with me, sir."

He led me back upstairs and to the drawing room I had just vacated. I followed, puzzled, and hopeful.

"Just wait here, sir," William said, then vanished.

I waited for about twenty minutes, pacing the room beneath Lydia's portrait. She gazed down at me, serene, calmly beautiful. She'd had no troubles at the time the picture had been painted-she'd had a young daughter and a husband with a solid and distinguished army career.

I had just decided William had forgotten about me, when, to my delight, and answering my hope, he opened the door again and ushered Lydia inside.

She smiled at me as William closed the door and left us alone. "The cocklebur has become unstuck at last."

I smiled back. "Happy chance that took him away."

She flushed. "It was not chance, truth to tell. I caused that message to be sent. It will take him to Essex, and by the time he discovers the ruse, it will be far too late to reach London again until morning. But I wanted to speak to you, uninterrupted."

My heart quickened. "I forgive you your deception. I, too, find him a constraint to conversation."

She sat in her usual place on the divan. "You mentioned selling this house," I said. "Where will you go after this business is cleared up? That is, if it ever is. I feel devilish ineffectual, I must say."

"You believe in Roe's innocence. That is already a great help."

"I want to do so much more."

Her eyes softened. "You do not know how it feels to have someone on my side, Captain, such a relief to speak openly. I so long to know the truth. The newspapers-what they print is horrible. Those cartoons about you are ludicrous. How can you bear it?"

I smiled. "I thought Mr. Allandale had forbidden newspapers in the house."

She made a derisive noise. "He might have told William to throw them away, but William is loyal to me, not to Mr. Allandale. Yes, I have seen the stories. They do not upset me, they make me quite angry. They have no right to ridicule you."

"I am a convenient target. It will pass." Or else I would break all Billings's teeth.

"They are hashing out the entire Badajoz incident over again." She sighed. "I am so tired of all of this."

I sat forward, wanting to comfort her and not knowing how.

She sent me a wavering smile. "Please, Captain. Tell me what you discovered in Kent."

"Little, I am afraid. I discovered that Lord Richard Eggleston and Lord Breckenridge are vulgar and irritating, but you did not need me to tell you that. And that they were Belemites."

She raised her delicate brows. "Belemites?"

"Officers who manage to be assigned posts nowhere near the fighting. Even if their regiment is heavily involved in battle, they somehow have been assigned to transport prisoners or look into a supply problem."

"My husband was not fond of them," Lydia said. "They liked a pretty uniform, but nothing more. Lord Breckenridge plied Roe for a long time to raise his rank, but fortunately Roe had the resolve not to let him become a colonel."

"I can believe that. Breckenridge might have served in the Peninsular campaign, but he was not a soldier."

I then gave her the full account of my visit to Astley Close. I omitted the shameful game of cards and my boxing bout with Breckenridge. I did tell her of Brandon's unexpected appearance and Breckenridge's suspicious death. While I spoke, she toyed with a heavy gold and garnet ring on her right forefinger, twisting it round in a distracted way.

"So I really learned nothing," I concluded. "Except that Eggleston and Breckenridge were most put out that I should be investigating them. I have not yet made acquaintance with Connaught, though Grenville is trying to contact him."

"He is much the same as the other two, I am afraid."

I tapped my fingers to the arm of the chair. "I wonder that your husband did not cut his acquaintance with them after the war. They are thoroughly unpleasant, and not men whose company I would have thought your husband would seek."

She opened her hands in a helpless gesture. "I asked him why myself, but he never would tell me. He only said that they had shared the camaraderie of battle, and so they must remain friends. I knew he did not much like them, but he refused to break the connection."

I remembered Lady Breckenridge describing how Lydia had begged her husband to take her home when Breckenridge wanted to play his disgusting card game. "He ought to have spared you."

She shrugged. "It no longer matters."

It mattered to me.

I continued, telling her what I'd learned from the Spencers and from Pomeroy. She listened attentively, the garnet on her ring winking as she twisted the band again.

"What this means," I said carefully, "is that not only could Breckenridge, Eggleston, or Connaught have killed your husband, but the Spencers could have also. And they might have killed Breckenridge as well."

She looked surprised. "But why should they?"

"Because John Spencer longs for revenge against those connected to his father's death. He reeks with it. And Kenneth Spencer worries much about his brother. He might have murdered your husband believing that John would be satisfied once Colonel Westin was dead. He seemed much distressed that John wanted to continue his search for the truth."