When Gods Die

Amanda shook her head.

“I’m not consorting with Lady Anglessey’s murderer,” said Sebastian. “I’m simply trying to discover who he is.”

“Really, Sebastian. Like some common Bow Street Runner?”

“With rather more finesse than that, I like to think. And, of course, I’m not getting paid, so you needn’t worry there’s any hint of the stench of trade being attached to the practice.”

“I should rather think not.”

Sebastian gave her a hard smile. “Offends your delicate sensibilities, does it?”

“It would offend the sensibilities of anyone of breeding and culture.”

“Really? Well, murder offends mine.”

“You have no sensibilities.” She turned away, one hand coming up to shade her eyes before she suddenly moved to face him again. “Why are you doing this?”

Sebastian took a slow swallow of brandy. “I thought I just explained that.”

She shook her head. “No. Why you? Why this murder?”

Sebastian hesitated a moment, then said, “Do you remember the bluestone necklace Mother always used to wear? The one she said was given to her by some old crone in the mountains of Wales?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Did you know she was wearing it the day she was lost at sea?”

“No. What has the necklace to do with anything?”

“It was around the Marchioness of Anglessey’s neck when her body was found in the Pavilion.”

Amanda’s eyes opened wide with surprise. “You can’t be serious. How extraordinary. Wherever did she get it?”

“No one seems to know. But Jarvis recognized it and suggested I might have my own reasons for looking into the matter.”

Amanda searched his face. “Are you so certain the Prince did not kill her?”

Sebastian met her gaze. Whatever else one might say about Amanda, she was a levelheaded, intensely unimaginative woman. If even she had come to suspect Prinny of murder, then the Regent was in serious trouble.

Sebastian shook his head. “She was killed earlier that afternoon. Her body was simply moved to the Pavilion and arranged so that he would find her.”

She frowned. “How much earlier was she killed?”

“Some six hours or more.”

Amanda’s lips curled in a contemptuous smile. “Ah. There, you see? No great mystery. Why, I could have told you Prinny didn’t do it myself. He wasn’t even in Brighton earlier that day.”

Sebastian’s hand tightened around his brandy glass. “What?”

Amanda laughed. “Did you not know? He was here in London. I saw him myself. Coming out of Lady Benson’s.”

“Last Wednesday? You’re quite certain?”

“Last Wednesday was Lady Sefton’s breakfast. I wasn’t able to attend myself, of course. But I remember it distinctly.” She gave the skirts of her mourning dress an unconscious twitch. “I can quite understand why Prinny kept his visit to Town secret—a lady’s reputation and all that. Not that Alice Benson has any reputation left. If her father hadn’t tied up her portion the way he did, Benson would have divorced her years ago. As it is, I fear being without Alice’s fortune would be even more mortifying for Benson than being cuckolded by the Prince, now, wouldn’t it?”

“What time was this?” said Sebastian sharply.

“Shortly before Lady Sefton’s breakfast. I’d say sometime in the early afternoon.”

Amongst the fashionable set, breakfasts were held in the afternoon, just as morning visits were held after three o’clock. Sebastian knocked back the rest of his brandy and set the glass aside. “Where might I find Lord Jarvis this evening?”

“Jarvis?” She paused a moment, thinking. “Well, there is Lady Crue’s ball. But I believe I heard something about the Dowager Lady Jarvis making up a party for Vauxhall. Sebastian,” she called after him as he headed for the stairs. “Where are you going?”

“Vauxhall.”

Chapter 50

Pressing a coin into the wherryman’s callused palm, Sebastian stepped onto the quay at Vauxhall. Beside him, a link torch flared against the dark sky to fill the moist, sultry air with the scent of hot pitch.

The earlier rain had brought little relief from the heat. As he entered the gardens through the Water Gate, he found the gravel of the wide main path still showing wet in the shimmering light cast by row after row of glowing oil lanterns. Around him, the thick expanses of lush vegetation steamed.

At the Grove he paused, his gaze sweeping the colonnades. The sweet strains of Handel’s Water