Maggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “He has.”
“Then you understand that your own life could be in jeopardy,” Harlow continued.
Maggie stiffened and turned to Max. “You mean there is more?”
“My dear, that is what we are trying to find out.” He stood behind her, careful not to touch her as he had on the stairs. He was not sure he would have time to cajole his body back into correct form and did not want to create any further embarrassment or distress for Meg.
Light steps sounded behind them as his mother joined them. “Please pardon my tardiness, gentlemen.”
“Mother, thank you for joining us. You know Lord Harlow. This gentleman is Mr. Douglas Nizal. He is here to help us protect Lady Tipton.” He hated saying Tipton’s name, but he had a new focus for his ire—Viscount Silas Winters. Meg’s uncle had much to answer for, and he would make sure he did. But first, he needed to protect Meg.
“Gentlemen, we may have more to discuss than originally imagined.” Max gestured to the food before them. “Let us first take our fill.”
The small group filled their plates and chatted about mundane pleasantries while they ate.
He turned to Meg. “If you are amenable, Meg, we would like to begin.”
She gave a slight nod and put down her fork.
“Mr. Nizal? You may proceed.” Max addressed the investigator.
“Certainly, my lord.” Nizal’s balding pate gave two quick bobs. The short man quickly withdrew a pair of wire glasses from the pocket of his waistcoat and adjusted them onto his face. He then reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew his pad and pencil nub. “My lady, my approach is to state the facts without coloring them with emotion. If I seem abrupt, allow me to apologize in advance.” He looked up at Maggie, seated to the left of Lady Worsley. “They found your husband dead a little over a week ago. His body was sprawled beneath the bedroom balcony of his manor, and his throat was cut.” He maintained eye contact with Meg.
“That is what I was told. Lord Worsley told me that my uncle, whom I have not seen since he cast me from my home, is trying to implicate me in my husband’s demise.”
“That is preposterous!” His mother’s outburst was unanticipated. “Lady Maggie...Tipton is a lady of the highest quality. She has known my family most of her life, and I have never observed an ounce of meanness from her toward even such as a…bug!” Max’s mother almost spit the last word. “Surely you are not supporting this terrible lie.” His mother directed her fiercest look in Mr. Nizal’s direction.
“Mother, he is here to gather facts so we can determine what happened, but also because we believe Lady Tipton is in danger,” Max attempted to calm his mother. “We need to know what she knows.”
“Forgive my outburst. Yes. Yes, we need to protect this young woman from any person who could hurt her.” She patted Maggie’s hand subtly.
“Yes.” The short man gave an unconcerned look, eager to resume his inquiry. Given the go-ahead, he gathered the details of her last evening with Lord Tipton. “Prior to coming here, you were staying at your parents’ home, which had been boarded up?” She nodded. “How did you gain entry?”
Maggie took a moment before answering. “My father had been visiting his grandmother shortly before the revolution in France. He and his grandmother narrowly escaped back to England. It made an impression on him, and he made certain my brother and I knew of a secret entrance to the house. It has an entry near my father’s study. I accessed it and found blankets and other supplies maintained in a small safe room behind the study.”
“Your father had a secret room?”
“In a manner of speaking. Father created it. He did not like the parlor that sat next to his study. I believe he had that room redecorated, and in doing so, created a small secret room between the two. We all knew about it, but it had been years since I had seen it.”
“Interesting. But when you saw Slade, you had come down the stairs?”
“Yes. I had ventured to my bedroom to find a book to read and anything I might have left behind that I could sell. I also wanted to find my miniature of my parents.” She fingered a small locket hidden beneath the neckline of her dress. “It was raining, storming terribly, but I heard noises in my father’s study, so Shep and I crept downstairs. That was when we saw him throwing things from Father’s bookshelves.”
Max interrupted, feeling this would be a good time to bring up Maggie’s feelings toward Winters. “Lady Tipton, please tell Harlow and Mr. Nizal what you told me.”
Trembling, Meg began to tell them about how she had survived the fate of her family and why she feared she was being followed. When she talked about the last day she had spent with her family, she faltered, but forced herself to continue. Her voice rose when she spoke of seeing Slade beneath the bedroom window.
“So, you feel that their deaths had been premeditated.”
“Yes.” Meg brushed her eyes.
“Your uncle stood to benefit with your brother also dying. It gave him the title, and the entitled properties.”
“My father met with me that last morning.” Her voice lowered to barely a whisper. “He told me of things I should know, should anything happen to him. Papers and money that I should know about. He pointed out their whereabouts to me.”
“What were those papers, Meg?” Max was very interested.
“He did not tell me much. He mentioned important papers
