Pippa sat with her gaze trained on her lap, where her fingers twisted a lace-edged handkerchief. Livy feared that she’d been too candid, given Pippa’s delicate state of mind. Then Pippa raised her eyes, and the blue orbs were as hard as ice.
“How do you intend to find my husband’s killer?” she demanded.
Livy gave the floor to Charlie, who replied in business-like tones.
“There are several paths we could take,” Charlie said. “First, with your permission, I would like to search Longmere’s personal effects for possible clues.”
Pippa gave a tight-lipped nod.
“Next, we will determine our strategy with regard to Edgecombe, Stamford, Thorne, and Bollinger. I would wager that at least one of them knows something about the earl’s death. Indeed, the killer could be amongst them. However, I do not believe they will be truthful under interrogation.”
“We could continue spying on them. Who knows, they may even lead us to this supposed Chinese partner.” Glory wrinkled her nose. “The business smells like the Billingsgate Fish Market, if you ask me.”
Pippa bit her lip. “That sounds dangerous. If something happened to you girls—”
“We can take care of ourselves,” Fi reassured her. “Come watch us train, and you’ll see.”
“Other than Edgecombe and his group,” Charlie said, “did your husband have any other people in his life, family or friends, who he might have confided in?”
“He had me.” Pippa’s poise cracked. “If only I had insisted that he tell me what was going on. If only I hadn’t been afraid of being a nuisance—”
“You cannot blame yourself,” Charlie said firmly. “It was Longmere’s decision and his alone to participate in this scheme and to keep secrets from you, his wife. The only thing that is within your power now is to see that his murderer is brought to justice.”
Pippa nodded, taking a composing breath. “He was painting a lot…near the end. He’d recently been selected to exhibit at the Royal Academy, and he spent hours in his studio perfecting his entry. You could talk to the housekeeper, Mrs. Ingerson; the day you found Longmere was her day off. I am sure Mrs. Ingerson could provide you with a list of visitors to the studio. Longmere also used a number of models in his work. His favorite was Alicia Hoskins, a lovely woman.”
Pippa was interrupted by the butler, who announced the arrival of the Duke of Hadleigh. As the butler went to fetch Ben, Livy turned anxiously to her friend. “You will remember not to say anything about the Society of Angels to Hadleigh?”
“Yes.” Pippa frowned. “What is going on between you and him? You never said why the two of you were together when you found Longmere.”
“It’s, um, a long story,” Livy said. “I’ll explain later, but I appreciate your discretion.”
“As I appreciate yours.” Pippa addressed them as a group. “Whatever you discover about Longmere, I must ask that you do your best to keep it confidential. I do not wish to give the ton—or my parents—any more reasons to dishonor his memory.”
Ben had not been looking forward to visiting the Countess of Longmere. Not because he found her as anything but amiable, but because of the news he had to deliver. Examining her husband’s body, Chen had found specks of blood in the eyes, purple splotches on the face and neck, and foaming in the airways, all of which pointed to asphyxiation, rather than a laudanum overdose, as the cause of death. The laudanum pooled at the back of Longmere’s throat suggested that it had been poured in after he’d died.
Ben hadn’t known how Lady Longmere would react to such grotesque news, but she appeared calm. Livy was of obvious comfort to her friend, holding the lady’s hand. Ben was grateful that Livy had already delivered the unpleasant news of Longmere’s involvement in the drug business. Having discovered no clues in Longmere’s studio, Ben now had to delicately ask for the widow’s permission to search her dead husband’s study.
“Why don’t you rest, Pippa? I’ll show His Grace the way,” Livy offered.
Thus, he found himself with Livy in Longmere’s study. Lady Fayne had left a while earlier due to a megrim, taking the other Willflowers with her, and he had promised to take Livy home. Even though their purpose was grim, he relished having time alone with her.
His little queen looked regal and diminutive in her little coronet, with looped side braids brushing her cheeks. She appraised the cluttered study with a keen gaze. The walls were covered in oil paintings, the furnishings showing signs of wear. Longmere’s desk sat in a corner; it was heaped with papers, charcoals, and assorted painting implements.
“Shall we split up the task?” Livy asked.
He debated keeping her out of the endeavor. With her loyal nature, however, Livy would want to help her friend…and she was not one to sit idly by. He supposed that no harm could come of her looking through the study with him.
“I’ll take the desk,” he said. “Why don’t you look through the rest of the room?”
She beamed at him as if he’d given her the moon and stars, and they went to work. The companionable silence tucked around them like a cozy, familiar blanket. It had always been this way with her: their togetherness had no need for words. They were in separate parts of the room, yet her presence lightened the burden of his task. As he sorted through the mess of the desk, he looked up now and again, his mouth twitching at the sight of his pretty miss, searching the room as methodically as a burglar.
He found nothing of interest until he opened the bottom drawer. He pulled out
