While I tried to think of another line of questioning, I tasted the ice. In an instant, I was savoring sweet and cold mixed with the flavor of bits of strawberry. Where had Lady Westover’s cook found strawberries at this time of year? I didn’t care if the berries were grown in a glasshouse or shipped in from Africa, I fell under their spell. The chill on my tongue made the fruit even more honeyed and almost made me miss the duke’s next words.
“I didn’t know something as simple as an ice could make a determined young woman like you melt.”
Jerking my head to the side, the spoon still on my lips, I caught the laughter in the duke’s eyes. I had a task to accomplish. I regretfully set down my spoon and said, “Is there anyone else who might be blackmailed by Nicholas Drake?”
“Not that I know of.” His expression turned serious. “Have you considered this might be dangerous?”
“Yes. This wouldn’t be my first investigation that involved ruffians.” The worst ruffian of all was the first. He looked like a gentleman, but he’d killed my parents and possibly Denis Lupton for possession of a Bible. And I still hadn’t found him.
Unaware of where my thoughts had traveled, the duke said, “Drake can’t pay you for your efforts on his behalf. Even if he could, he wouldn’t.”
There was a little left in my crystal cup and I was enjoying the last spoonful, only half listening to the duke’s words. Then I turned to face him and felt my eyes widen at the intense way he was staring at me. I was immediately on my guard. “Sometimes we’re paid for our efforts. The rest can be considered charity if you wish.”
He leaned forward slightly and stared into my eyes. “Be careful Drake doesn’t destroy you in your efforts to help him.”
“Ladies, if you come with me to the parlor, the men can rejoin us later.” Lady Westover stood and led the way out of the dining room. I followed, wondering whether it was Victoria Dutton-Cox or Blackford’s sister who had been destroyed by Drake. And I felt decidedly uneasy about the unfathomable look the duke had given me.
When we reached the plant-filled parlor, Lucinda Naylard and Daisy Hancock chose opposite sides of the room. I decided to follow Daisy, who had settled on a sofa close to the only warm spot in the room, in front of the fire. Pushing aside the leaf of a rubber plant, I asked, “How did you enjoy your first season?”
The girl brightened. “It was everything I had hoped for and more. I danced every dance at every ball. I wore beautiful gowns and flirted with handsome men. There’s nothing in the world as exciting and glittery. I can’t wait for spring when it starts over again.”
“But surely you’ll marry soon and have other important duties to fulfill.”
Daisy looked at me as if I had just spouted blasphemy. “My uncle says I must choose a husband this year and get married, but I want to enjoy this two more times at least. I don’t think three seasons will qualify me as a spinster, do you? There’s nothing more fun than shopping for clothes and going to balls and seeing old friends.”
“It sounds wonderful,” I said. If my doubt showed in my tone, Daisy didn’t notice.
“My uncle says I need to find a husband this year or I’ll end up like her,” she said in a hissing whisper as she nodded toward Lucinda.
When I glanced over, Lucinda sat alone. She appeared to be praying. Lord Hancock needn’t worry. Daisy would never be like Lucinda.
Inspector Grantham came into the room. “Grandmama, I’m sorry, but I must leave now. I’ve been called back to Scotland Yard.”
“You work too hard, Eddy,” she said as she kissed his cheek.
“Cousin Georgia, I’ll speak to you later. Ladies.” The inspector gave the room a bow and hurried away.
The other gentlemen joined us a short while later. Lucinda immediately pulled her brother into a corner and whispered in his ear. Coffee was served and Daisy gave Blackford a flirtatious look. He walked as far from her as he could, ending up by the window draperies, and set his coffee cup on a lace-covered table. “I don’t think he likes girls,” Daisy whispered to me.
“Perhaps he prefers women,” I whispered back.
Daisy looked around the room with a pout. Her uncle, who’d cornered the duke in close conversation, wore a similar expression.
Lady Westover came over to join us, and I took the opportunity to say, “So, you’ve known each other a long time.”
“I was godmother to Daisy’s mother. After her death, I’ve tried to look after Daisy,” Lady Westover said. “Lord Hancock has never married, and I thought a woman’s touch would be helpful. I’m afraid I’ve been remiss in my duty to you, young lady.”