A Momentary Marriage(107)

“He asked me about my manuscripts the other day,” Walter said shyly. “He said he would read one of them.” His grin broadened. “And he told me I didn’t have to go back to school if I didn’t want to. I nearly fainted.”

“You see? He cares about you. All of you. I think that’s why he hasn’t done anything before now about Claude; he couldn’t bring himself to accuse Claude, no matter how logical it was.”

“Claude wouldn’t kill him. He certainly wouldn’t do it in cold blood. And to do it in such a way, seeing James die by inches. No. Claude can be hard. He resents James and he’s often bitter, but he’s not cruel.”

“Then who could it be? That’s the sticking point. Who else would benefit from James dying? I have no trouble accepting that Mr. Salstone is that cruel, and he might be wicked enough to murder just to gain a laxer trustee than James for Patricia’s funds. But why would he try to kill me? It would gain him nothing, and it seems a large risk to take merely because he dislikes me.”

“It was a risk certainly. Someone could have seen him going in or out.” He sighed. “Unfortunately, no one did.”

“Perhaps they really were accidents.”

“It seems unlikely that urn would have fallen by itself. And we know someone plotted James’s death.” His face took on a determined expression. “I must investigate it. I can’t let James and Claude be at odds. Even if it turns out it was Claude, I have to know.”

“I’ll help you.” Laura stood up. “Where shall we start?”

They went first to the balcony, which lay off a little-used sitting room near the nursery wing. At the sound of their footsteps, Robbie popped out of one of the rooms farther down the corridor. “Hullo!”

“Hullo, Robbie,” Walter greeted him cheerfully. “Learning anything yet?”

“No,” Robbie returned proudly as he trotted down the hall toward them. “Will you take me down to the castle this afternoon? Miss Barstow says I cannot go alone, and Papa’s gone to London with Uncle James. I heard Uncle James and Papa had a mill last night. Did they?” He lifted his fists and launched into a pantomime of punching.

“Who told you that?” Walter asked.

“Nobody. I heard Mr. Netherly talking.”

“You hear entirely too much,” Walter responded. “Hasn’t anyone told you not to go listening at doors?”

The boy laughed, showing his gap-toothed grin. “Then I wouldn’t learn anything!”

The governess rushed down the hall after Robbie, looking harried. “Robbie!” She bobbed a curtsey to Walter and Laura. “Beg your pardon, sir. Ma’am.”

She hauled the boy back to his studies, scolding him in a low voice. Walter, watching them go, said, “He’s not a bad little chap, whatever Patsy says. He just gets bored.”

As they continued down the hall, a man trotted up from the back staircase and emerged into the hallway. He paused, looking startled, when he saw the two of them, but he recovered quickly. “ ‘Ah, what light through yonder window breaks . . .’ ” He swept an elegant bow toward Laura. “Lady de Vere. What a pleasure to see you.”

“Netherly,” Walter replied sourly, and turned away, steering Laura into the sitting room across the hallway. “Jumped-up poseur,” he muttered under his breath. “I don’t know how Mother puts up with him.”

“What’s Mr. Netherly doing up here?” Laura wondered.

“Dropping in to flirt with Miss Barstow, I’d guess. You heard Robbie repeating something he said.”

“He’s flirting with the governess? What about his mad passion for your mother?”

Walter snorted. “Mad passion for foisting himself on society, I’d say. Miss Barstow’s not the only female he pursues. He’s always sneaking about, bothering the maids. I even heard Adelaide dressing him down about it the other day. Insult to Mother, but of course, nobody wants to hurt her by telling her about it.”

He turned around, surveying the bland room where they stood. “We’re right over the ballroom. Balcony’s out those French doors.” He pointed. “Easy enough to nip up here if one used those back stairs Netherly just came up. Of course, the culprit would risk being seen by the servants.”

“The servants were busy running back and forth to the ballroom. I doubt they would have paid any attention to the stairs.”

“He could get back to the ballroom quickly afterward, too. People might not even notice he’d been gone.”

Laura nodded. “Which makes one wonder why Claude would still be hanging about upstairs if he was the culprit.”