A Spinster’s Guide to Danger and Dukes (Ladies Most Scandalous Book 3)

That afternoon, Langham took Val and a few of the other gentlemen of the party out riding to tour some of the more interesting views on the estate.

While they were gone, Eversham had sought out Langham’s brother, Adrian, to confirm his information from the Foreign Office regarding Lord Short’s Amazon railroad scheme.

The riders had just returned and were shedding their greatcoats in the entry hall when Langham noticed Ned Jarvis standing just off to the side, obviously waiting for a lull in the conversation to catch his attention.

“What is it, Ned?” Langham asked, noting that his cousin’s jaw was set and his normally merry eyes looked troubled. “Is there a problem with the estate?”

“No, Your Grace.”

It was rare that the man addressed Langham by his honorific, which alerted the duke that whatever it was that was bothering Ned, it was serious.

“But I do need to speak with you,” Ned concluded with a tense expression.

Perhaps noting the steward’s discomfort, Val, who had been standing next to Langham, gave him a quick nod. “Thank you for the tour, old fellow. I’ll just go see if I can find where Caro has got to.”

When he was gone, Langham gestured to Ned with a hand toward the stairs. “Why don’t we go up to my study?”

With a terse nod, Ned followed him toward the upper floors, and soon they were closeted in the book-lined room.

Langham had never seen his cousin looking so flustered, and he wondered if Ned was going to tell him he was leaving for another position. The other man had been steward of the estate since not long after Langham came into his majority, and he’d come to rely on him not only as a trusted employee but as a friend. If he were intending to leave the abbey, Langham would be sorry to lose him.

When Jarvis turned down the offer of a seat as well as a drink, Langham knew it was time to forge ahead and get the bad news out into the open.

“You’d better spit it out, old fellow,” Langham said wryly. “I hope you aren’t going to tell me you’re leaving for another position, because I don’t mind telling you it would break my heart. Though of course I would wish you the best.”

Ned looked startled. “What?” Then, as if Langham’s words had just sunk in, he shook his head. “No, no. I’m not offering my notice. Though once you’ve heard what I have to say you may demand I do so.”

Puzzled, Langham wondered what else could be the issue. “Then, by God, sit down. Standing there like a schoolboy in the headmaster’s office is just making us both more uncomfortable.”

With a sheepish look, Jarvis reluctantly sat in the chair opposite Langham’s massive desk, though his posture didn’t relax any.

“I am glad to hear Miss Delamere’s sister, Violet,” Ned said in a tentative voice, “is recovering from her ordeal at the hands of her father and that the two sisters have been reunited.”

“Yes, Miss Delamere is relieved to have her sister with her,” he nodded, noting the nervousness in his cousin’s demeanor. Recalling what Poppy had told him that morning about Violet’s slip of the tongue, he guessed the reason. “But I think you are here for another reason relating to Mrs. Lovell?”

“There’s no other way to say it,” Jarvis began stiffly, “so I’ll just come out with it. I am in love with Violet, that is, Mrs. Lovell. I know that she is under suspicion for the murder of her husband, but I intend to inform Rhodes and Stannings that I am the one who killed Alistair Lovell.”

Langham stared in shock as he realized how off the mark he’d been about Ned’s reason for speaking to him. Though he suspected he might do the same if he were in the other man’s place, he still couldn’t help but be aghast at the plan.

“And what has Violet to say to your plan?” he asked aloud. “She cannot be pleased at the idea of you taking her place on the scaffold.”

“I have not informed her,” Ned said with a scowl. “She may not like the idea, but I will not see her prosecuted for that bastard’s murder.”

“But did you actually kill him, Ned?” Langham asked harshly. “Because it would be damned foolish of you to hang for murder when neither one of you is guilty of killing the scoundrel. You’d condemn Violet to a life of misery simply because you were too impatient to wait for the real killer to be caught.”

Jarvis made a sound of frustration. “You’ve seen how ruthless Lord Short is. He is the one who first put it in Rhodes’s head that Violet was responsible. He just wants to get his hands on the fortune Lovell left to her on his death. A man who will implicate his own daughter in a murder will stop at nothing to get what he wants.”

“We will not throw Violet to the wolves,” Langham said. “You must know that, Ned. I could never let my fiancée’s sister be prosecuted for murder. Indeed, Detective Inspector Eversham of Scotland Yard arrived this morning. We will find the real culprit. There is no need for you to fall on your sword. No matter how necessary it may seem right now.”

Langham watched as his cousin took in his words. It took a moment but his expression finally changed from one of stubborn determination to skepticism.

“You truly believe Eversham will solve the murder?” Ned asked.

“Eversham’s a friend. I know him well. It’s what he does,” Langham said reassuringly. “And he’s brought along his wife, Lady Katherine, and her cohort, Lady Wrackham, both of whom are friends of Poppy’s and quite familiar with conducting investigations.”

“But they’re ladies!” Ned protested. “Ladies do not solve crime.”

“You’d better not let Poppy hear you say that,” Langham said with a laugh. “She and her friends are quite adept at working out mysteries. She might insist that I dock your wages and toss you out on your ear. Not to mention it influencing her opinion on your relationship with her sister. Although I must say offering to hang in Violet’s stead does give you a leg up.”

Ned’s ears began to redden. “Given who the magistrate is, I was convinced Violet would never get a fair hearing.”

This brought Langham up short. “What do you mean? Stannings is a good man.”

At his assertion, Jarvis looked uneasy again.

“I won’t sack you for speaking ill of him, Ned,” Langham said impatiently. “He’s been a friend, but I trust you to tell me the truth. “

“It’s just that Stannings was being blackmailed by Lovell,” Jarvis said carefully. “And Violet overheard them arguing the day before Lovell was killed. Her husband was threatening to bring down the society, whatever that means, and Stannings said he’d see Lovell dead first.”

Langham sat up straighter in his chair. Lovell must have been referring to the Lucifer Society. Could the naked man who’d led the group in the caves last night have been Stannings? It was difficult to imagine his old friend being involved in something so sordid. Yet Stannings was certainly familiar with the secret doors into the caves and St. Lucy’s. “Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” he demanded. “Stannings can’t preside over the investigation into the man’s death when he himself had reason to kill him.”

“I couldn’t tell you without telling you about Violet and me,” Jarvis said. “And at the time I couldn’t be sure how you’d react to the news I’d been involved with your fiancée’s sister.”

It made some sense, but Langham was frustrated at the knowledge they’d been staring a viable suspect in the face this entire time but hadn’t realized it.

*  *  *

While the gentlemen were off riding, the ladies of the house party had decided to embark upon a ramble to the far side of the lake, where they would enjoy a picnic tea.

As she walked with Kate and Caro, Poppy couldn’t help but notice how much less intimidating the temple folly appeared in the light of day. It was difficult to imagine that beneath the graceful columns of the pretty building lay an underground network of meeting rooms used for the most nefarious of purposes.

Though the sun was warm, she gave a shudder at the memory of the gruesome ritual she and Langham had observed there.

“It is a little chilly this afternoon despite the sun,” Kate said, pulling her own shawl more tightly around her. “These early summer afternoons can still offer a few surprises, can’t they?”

“More likely she is recalling her romantic interlude in the folly with a certain handsome duke,” Caro said with a wink as she threaded her arm through Poppy’s. “Though I must tell you, my dear, that Ludwig is going to be terribly jealous. He has grown used to being the most important man in your life.”

Ludwig was Caro’s temperamental but lovable Siamese cat, whom Poppy had looked after for Caro from time to time.

“I imagine he is far more disturbed by the arrival of a new man in your life,” Poppy quipped, even as she felt her cheeks flush at Caro’s teasing.

“Oh, Ludwig and Val are great friends now,” Caro said with a laugh. “You should see them together. It’s really quite adorable. Though his valet still hasn’t resigned himself to the reality of cat hair on his master’s waistcoats. Poor man.”

It was clear from Caro’s tone that she wasn’t in the least bit chagrined at the situation. Her affection for Ludwig was such that she would endure untold amounts of cat hair for him. And, she seemed to think, so should everyone else who came into his orbit.

“How are you getting on with Langham’s family?” Kate asked as they continued on, following behind the dowager, who was flanked by two of her dearest friends. “You said that you’ve won over his sisters, but what of his grandmother?”

“I’m not altogether sure,” Poppy said careful to keep her voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard. “She seems to hold Langham in real affection, so I believe she will continue to champion us as long as the betrothal lasts, but we haven’t had a chance to speak alone since my first day here.” She had great admiration for the older lady, but she had to admit to finding her more than a little intimidating.

They’d reached the site where servants had laid out colorful blankets and had begun unpacking baskets laden with all sorts of delicious fruits, pies both sweet and savory, and other kinds of culinary delights.

“It’s a pity the men didn’t come with us,” said Kate wryly. “I somehow doubt ten ladies will be able to do justice to this feast.”

“Have no fear, Lady Katherine,” said Genia from where she had seated herself on a corner of the blanket. “I believe the gentlemen mean to join us after they have had their tour of the estate. There is nothing like riding for working up an appetite.”

“You must tell us about your column, Lady Wrackham,” said Charlotte from beside her sister, indicating that Caro and Kate should sit by them. “Did you really meet Lady Katherine at a dinner party?”

Poppy was about to take her own seat beside her friends when the dowager’s little dog, Percy, shot past, his short legs working as if the hounds of hell were in pursuit.

“Percy!” Miss Halliwell, the governess to the Carlyle children, whom Poppy had met the other morning on the terrace, came rushing forward, out of breath. “Come back here!”

“Miss Halliwell, Percy has run away,” cried a small girl, with carefully styled ringlets and a petulant look about her. “Make him come back!”

Sure enough, as Poppy looked on, the child’s bottom lip began to quiver and tears welled in her big brown eyes.

Poppy felt a pang of sympathy for the governess and went over to her. Percy’s misbehavior was surely beyond her assigned duties.

“I’ll go after him,” she said, on impulse. She had a way with animals. Surely the little dog would come to her with a bit of coaxing.

The governess looked up from where she was kneeling beside the crying child. The expression on her face was one of unadulterated gratitude. “Oh, would you?”

“I will,” she said with a smile. “Tell my friends where I’ve gone, please?”

“Of course,” said Miss Halliwell. “I owe you a cake at the very least.”

“I want cake,” cried the little girl beside her. Poppy stifled a laugh. Miss Halliwell had her work cut out for her with that one.

“I’ll be right back,” Poppy told the other woman, before starting out in the direction in which Percy had disappeared.

Behind her, she heard Lord Adrian’s voice saying in an astonished voice, “Jane? Jane Halliwell? What are you doing here?”

It took every ounce of discipline Poppy had to stop herself from rushing back to see just what was happening between Miss Halliwell and Lord Adrian, but that bit of drama would have to wait until she’d found the recalcitrant Percy.

When she’d last seen the little dog, he’d been heading for the folly, so she climbed toward it.

As she neared the marble edifice, she was surprised by how much larger it seemed when she wasn’t approaching it on Langham’s arm. Somehow, his presence had made the folly seem less imposing. On her own, she felt dwarfed by it, and not a little intimidated. Which was foolish, she chided herself. It was merely an empty space. The new iteration of the Lucifer Society was hardly performing rituals in the caves in broad daylight.

Even so, she was not eager to linger too close to the entrance, and she picked up her pace as she followed the outside wall of the folly.

Here, to her surprise, she saw that a stone monument of a fierce-looking St. Michael had been constructed to the right of the folly. Leaning in to read a plaque that had been placed at the statue’s feet, she learned that it was a memorial to Michael Thaddeus Joshua James Fielding, Fourth Duke of Langham.

Something about the choice of Michael the Archangel to memorialize the man who had founded the Lucifer Society, struck Poppy as particularly amusing. The archangel, after all, had been the one to cast Lucifer out of heaven. How Langham’s great-grandfather would have loathed this. Which served the old reprobate right.

Just then, she spotted a brown and white flash of fur on the far side of the monument.

“Percy,” she said in a singsong voice as she approached where the little dog sat panting and watching her. “Nice Percy, sweet Percy, come to Auntie Poppy.”

But as she neared the dog, he darted off again, stopping just far enough away to be out of reach.

Out of breath and losing patience, Poppy decided that the best way to capture the stubborn little animal was to let him come to her.

To that end, she took a seat on the stone base of the memorial and looked down across the grass toward the lake. A glance behind her showed that Percy was watching her. Hopefully it would only take another minute or so for curiosity to get the best of him.

Wishing she’d brought a book or some way to pass the time, she waited with growing impatience for Percy to give up his post and come to her.

Then, with a burst of elation, she remembered that she’d put the list they’d found in Lovell’s bedchamber and a pencil in her reticule yesterday. Removing the page and the pencil from the cloth purse, she scanned the words, seven in all, that had been jotted down the page.

Xziobov

Givmgszn

Hgzmmrmth

Yirtsg

Triglm

Nliglm

Kirwv

Examining the letters in the list, she tried a couple of Caesar ciphers first—this was the code that Julius Caesar had used on his own correspondence and was created by shifting each letter of the alphabet a fixed number of letters to the right.

But this method yielded no results for long enough that Poppy was convinced that she was following the wrong path.

Then, something struck her about the letters in the list. There were an unusually large number of letters that were uncommon, many of them found at the end of the alphabet. But three of the most common letters used in English were vowels—a, e, and i—all of which appeared near the beginning of the alphabet and yet didn’t appear in this list at all or in the frequency one would assume.

Deciding that she might have hit on the solution, she tried substituting the alphabet from a to z with the alphabet from z to a. That is, a = z, b = y and so on.

And just like that, the words on the list began to make sense. They were all surnames. But it was the third surname on the list that made her gasp.

Stannings.

While it was entirely possible that Lovell had been keeping a list of debts, Poppy couldn’t forget that the man had been a blackmailer. And the amount beside Stannings’s name was by far the highest on the list. Could it be that the magistrate who was meant to be investigating Lovell’s death was also one of his blackmail victims? If so, this called into question Stannings’s ability to do his job with any degree of impartiality. For all they knew, the magistrate could have been the one to murder Lovell.

Even if Stannings wasn’t the one who’d killed her brother-in-law, there were six other names here of potential suspects they should investigate.

She had to show Langham and Eversham the list—surely they’d finished their meetings and tours and had joined the picnic by now.

Percy would have to wait. She’d send one of the grooms after him as soon as she got back to the group.

Standing, she began to walk toward the path leading back to the picnickers. But she hadn’t gone more than a few feet before she heard the little dog barking behind her.

With a sigh at the pup’s timing, she turned back to see what he was yapping at but was startled to see Sir Geoffrey Stannings approaching from a path near the far side of the folly. Percy, as if recognizing that it would be dangerous to approach him, kept a safe distance away.

“Miss Delamere.”

“Sir Geoffrey,” she said, clasping a hand to her chest, “you surprised me. I didn’t realize there was a path leading up the hill from this side of the folly.”

“My apologies, Miss Delamere,” the man said, bowing to her. “The way the paths up this hill are laid out is quite as labyrinthine as the caves that lie below them.”

Reminding herself that his mention of the caves might be entirely innocent, she made an effort to keep her breathing calm.

“Were you looking for clues related to Mr. Lovell’s murder up at St. Lucifer’s?” she asked, keeping the subject to his work on the murder case, rather than alerting him that she now suspected he might have been being blackmailed by her brother-in-law.

“Clever girl,” said Stannings with a wink. “That’s exactly what I was doing.”

Poppy didn’t care for being called a girl. And certainly not by this man. But she schooled her features not to show it.

Instead she said, “Have you had any luck? It seems as if the site has been looked over so many times now by so many people that there would be nothing left to find.”

“You might well think so, Miss Delamere,” he said thoughtfully. “But you’d be surprised what can be discovered when one has a familiarity with the area. Why don’t you come over here and tell me whether you think this might go some ways toward clearing your sister’s name.”

Poppy’s instincts were telling her in every way not to trust Stannings. And remembering how one of Kate and Caro’s earliest columns had warned vulnerable women to eschew good manners when they felt themselves to be in danger, she did just that.

Rather than moving closer to him, as he’d suggested, she turned to run in the opposite direction. Percy, who by this time had grown weary of barking at Stannings, ran after her.

But she hadn’t counted on the fact that Stannings was faster, and she soon found herself being towed backward by the magistrate, one of his hands clapped over her mouth so that her shriek of outrage went unheard. In the scuffle, she felt his shirt rip beneath her grasp, and felt a grim note of satisfaction at the thought even as she watched Percy run toward the front of the folly and presumably down the hill.

Poppy hoped against hope that his return without her would be noticed.

“It’s really too bad I’ve had to resort to this, Miss Delamere,” said Stannings with a grunt as he caught one of her elbows in his ribs, “but it’s only a matter of time before you and your lover realize it was me you saw in the cave last night.”

And before she could reply, Poppy felt herself being pushed forward. The next thing she knew she was hurtling downward into nothingness.