The Sign of Death Read online

  Her aunt cleared her throat, and it was obvious that she was attempting to get herself under control. “Yes. For many years.”

  William was at a loss for words. Not that he knew a great deal about Lady Margaret’s life, but it was startling that she and James had been acquaintances. From her reaction to his death, perhaps more than acquaintances.

  “May I ask you a question, and if it is too personal, please let me know.” William thought for a moment. “How is it you knew James?”

  Lady Margaret sighed and looked out the window as she spoke. “We almost married.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The stunned silence was broken a few heartbeats later as Amy shook her head as if to clear her brain. “I’ve lived with you my entire life; how is it I never knew you were betrothed to Mr. Harding?”

  “It was when you were quite young, so you would not have known.” Lady Margaret took in a deep breath. “It was before your mother died. I was a mere twenty years at the time. We weren’t exactly betrothed, since your father—my brother—disapproved of James.”

  Lady Margaret glanced at William. “May I ask you to pour me a sherry, please?”

  “Of course.” William strode across the room and poured a sherry for Lady Margaret and a brandy for himself. “Amy, would you like a sherry also?”

  “After the morning we’ve had, yes, very much.”

  He placed the glasses on a small tray on the sideboard and carried them to the women. Once they were all settled with their drinks, Lady Margaret continued. “James and I had planned to elope to Gretna Green, but my brother discovered our plans and stopped us. He sent me off to our family estate in Hampshire.”

  Amy continued to stare at her aunt as if she didn’t know her. “Then what happened?”

  Lady Margaret shrugged. “I stayed there for a while, then returned to Bath. James had moved on. He was courting another woman, and when we met, he said it was probably for the best, since Miss Daniels suited him better.”

  “Did they marry?”

  “Yes. But she died giving birth to their son, who didn’t survive either.”

  Amy stood and crossed the distance between them and sat next to her aunt, taking her hand in hers. “He hurt you. I can tell.”

  Lady Margaret patted Amy’s hand. “It was a long time ago. James and I met on occasion in town, and we were cordial to each other, but I’ve always wondered what my life would have been like if Franklin hadn’t stopped us.” She sipped her sherry, then shook her head. “And now he’s dead.”

  Lacey entered the room and held out an envelope to Amy. “My lady, this just came in the post for you.”

  “Thank you.” Amy took the missive from Lacey and looked up at William. “It’s from my publisher.” She opened the envelope, and her eyes scanned the note. She groaned and covered her eyes with her hand.

  “What is it?”

  “They are insisting that I appear at the Atkinson and Tucker book festival as E. D. Burton.”

  * * *

  “You can’t possibly do that!” Aunt Margaret looked aghast as Amy clenched the paper in her hands.

  “I know. I shall refuse.” Amy folded the wrinkled note back up and returned it to the envelope.

  “Just a moment,” William said. “There might be a clause in your contract that gives them the right to force you to do this.”

  Amy and her aunt stared at the man. “Whatever do you mean?”

  William shrugged. “I am somewhat knowledgeable about publishing contracts, and it is possible they can do that. Do you have a copy of one of your contracts? If you don’t mind, I would like to take a look at it.”

  “My papa’s solicitor gave his approval.” Her papa was nothing if not thorough. She studied William, realizing that there was no reason he couldn’t have a look at the contract and that to continue to refuse was childish and ridiculous. “Very well, I have the contracts upstairs in my room.” She stood and shook out her skirts. “If you will excuse me.”

  Was it possible that her publisher could force her to appear as E. D. Burton? She had insisted several times on anonymity when she sold her books to them. Mr. Gordon, with whom she’d dealt since the beginning, had assured her that her identity would remain anonymous. It had been one of her requirements when she signed—the only way she could get Papa’s permission to sell her manuscript. As an adult, she should have been able to sign her own contracts without getting approval from Papa first.

  She yanked opened the drawer of the desk in her small office next to her bedchamber and pulled out the top contract. She made her way back downstairs just in time to hear Lacey announcing lunch.

  The three of them made their way to the dining room. Wonderful smells greeted them, reminding Amy again how hungry she was. She handed William the contract as they sat at the table. He took it from her and nodded. “I will look at this once we finish our meal.”

  A beautiful whitefish with capers in a creamy sauce, roasted potatoes, and carrots had Amy’s stomach rumbling and immediately drew her attention. Cook had also provided a jellied salad and fresh rolls.

  “I thought vegetarians didn’t eat fish,” Aunt Margaret said as she eyed Amy’s plate.

  “Actually, I am the type of vegetarian that eats fish.” Amy glowered at William’s smirk. She tried her best to follow the vegetarian lifestyle and had no problem eschewing meat, but she had no intention of giving up fish also.

  Apparently they were all hungry, because they dove into their food with very few comments as they ate. A few This is very goods and Please pass the salts were about all that was said. Good manners held that nothing distressing be discussed while dining. Naught was said about Amy’s contract, since, if William found anything that allowed her publisher to force her to appear as E. D. Burton, that would ruin the entire meal.

  Once the food had been consumed and they were left with a pot of tea and a tray of cheese, fruit, and biscuits, William sat back, picked up the contract, and began to look it over. He appeared quite engrossed as he read each page, a shake of his head and a frown his only reactions.

  Amy and Aunt Margaret attempted some conversation, Amy using the time to tell her aunt about their escapade that morning, but the entire time she kept glancing over to William, who continued to grimace as he read.

  “Well?” Amy said as he laid the document down.

  He looked over at her and sighed. “I am not a solicitor, but I have read many contracts. From what it says here”—he pointed at the document—“it is possible they can force you to attend.”

  Amy’s jaw dropped. “How? They agreed to keep my identity a secret.”

  William thumbed a few pages of the contract. “It does say that, but unfortunately, it also says in this clause that the publisher has the right to market the books any way it sees fit.”

  “But what does that mean?”

  He laid the document back down and folded his hands upon it. “Appearing as E. D. Burton at the book festival could be considered a marketing technique. Again, I remind you that I am not a solicitor and I suggest you have one look at this, but my opinion is they can use this clause to enforce it.”

  Amy let out a huge breath and slumped against the back of the chair. “Father will not be pleased.”

  A small niggling of joy began in her stomach and slowly spread throughout her body. She had always felt cheated in not receiving public acknowledgment of her work. She had to sit and listen when the book club discussed one of her books and ignore the comments when they praised the writing of E. D. Burton. Frustration was part of the ploy also, because there were times when a member of the book club would swear they knew precisely what E. D. Burton meant when “he” wrote such and such. Oh, how she wanted to correct them.

  Now here was her opportunity to have the public know that she was E. D. Burton. And she could receive all the acclaim without going against her papa’s wishes.

  But then there was always the possibility he would forbid her to write any more books. Sometimes she hated be
ing a woman.

  * * *

  The next night, William assisted Amy and Lady Margaret from his carriage in front of the Assembly. After their lunch, they had all decided to attend the Assembly, since Lady Margaret had graciously offered to help with their search for Harding’s killer. Actually, she’d announced loud and clear her desire to seek justice for his death, even though she described Harding as an arse.

  It was noteworthy that she described him in such a way before William and Amy had even told her the entire story of Harding’s duplicity. When they were through with their account, she shook her head and commented that “once a scoundrel, always a scoundrel.”

  They went over the list of names from the files Harding had hidden in his home. William knew Mr. Montrose from his club, and Lady Margaret mentioned that the man occasionally attended the Assembly. William would watch out for him. Lady Margaret also said there was a chance that Mrs. Whitney would be there as well. If not, she added, looking pointedly at Amy, Mrs. Whitney usually attended the rounds of afternoon social calls.

  Amy groaned at that one and stated—quite emphatically—that she did not enjoy sitting around drinking tea with women whose only purpose for being present was to share gossip. But she had reluctantly agreed that if it was the only way to speak with Mrs. Whitney, she would accompany her aunt the next time she made her rounds. Unlike Amy, Lady Margaret was quite the social butterfly.

  The Assembly was well under way when they arrived. Since William and Amy were so easily accepted by their circle of friends as a couple, he began to ruminate on their very comfortable relationship. What had been relaxed and happy these past few months now seemed to have reached a point where he needed to consider making it more.

  Perhaps much more.

  But Amy had mentioned several times that she had no intention of binding herself to a husband who would then dictate her life. Now, with his mother taking up residence at his house, living and breathing her intention to marry him off and be blessed with grandchildren, William wondered if perhaps he should try to change Amy’s mind.

  Amy was intelligent, high-spirited—sometimes a bit too much—and certainly easy to look at. He felt she would be a wonderful wife if he could convince her that he would not stifle her in any way. Well, he would certainly forbid her from buying a gun.

  They approached the small group from the book club who also frequently attended the Assembly. Miss Sterling, Mr. Davidson, and Mr. Colbert all greeted them, as did Miss Gertrude and Miss Penelope, who seemed to have joined the little group as well.

  “Where is Lady Wethington?” Mr. Colbert asked, looking behind Amy.

  “She had intended to join us, but she had a megrim and stayed home with a cold cloth and a tisane from our cook,” William said.

  Mr. Colbert’s shoulders slumped. “Oh, that is too bad.” The man looked as though he’d lost his favorite puppy.

  Amy snorted, trying her best to hold in her laugh, but William failed to see what was funny about Mr. Colbert’s interest in his mother. She was far too old to be courting. And so was Mr. Colbert.

  He took the opportunity to move away from any discussion about his mother. “Miss Gertrude, Miss Penelope, how are you this evening? I don’t remember seeing you at these events before.”

  “No.” Miss Penelope grinned. “We never have attended, but now that we are venturing out to the book club each week, sister thought it a good idea to also engage in other social activities.”

  The music started up, and both Miss Penelope and Miss Gertrude looked in his direction. Bloody hell, did they expect him to push them around the dance floor? Amy’s elbow in his side reminded him that dancing with Miss Gertrude might bring information they needed.

  He held out his hand and bowed slightly. “Miss Gertrude, would you care to dance?”

  She giggled and turned bright red. William did his best not to sigh. Apparently Mr. Colbert thought to follow his lead, as he asked Miss Penelope to dance as well. Mr. Davidson, as usual, just stood and watched the rest of the group. William had never seen the man dance, even though he was at the Assembly just about every Saturday.

  He was grateful for his height, since Miss Gertrude was tall for a woman as well as quite slender. She was stiff in his arms, but if he was going to suffer dancing a waltz with her, hopefully he would gain some information.

  “How are you enjoying the book club?” That seemed like an innocuous start.

  “Very much, my lord. I particularly liked The Sign of the Four. Very mysterious, I must say.” The woman was also a decent dancer, which helped. If he didn’t have to guide her around the dance floor, it would leave his brain clear to ask questions.

  “I was surprised to find that you and your lovely sister are interested in mystery stories.”

  “We never were before, but we suddenly developed an interest in how these things are done.”

  William stumbled and almost stepped on the woman’s foot. Could she be so naïve or unconcerned? He cleared his throat. “What things?”

  “Oh, book clubs and such. We always wondered how it worked.” Before he could respond to that, she said, “Will we see you at church tomorrow?”

  That question seemed to come from nowhere. Unless she was trying to remind him that she was a devoted churchgoer and therefore would never consider killing a man. He had no idea what Miss Gertrude was attempting to do, but he knew she would remain on their suspect list.

  He had to find a way to delve into her past to discover what it was that Harding had used for blackmail. “You and your sister have been members of St. Swithin’s Church ever since I can remember. Have you always lived in Bath?”

  She nodded vigorously. “Oh yes. Always. I dislike London.” She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “Very much.” He noticed a flicker of fear in her eyes, which disappeared so quickly that he wasn’t sure he’d seen it.

  Since he hadn’t mentioned London, her answer raised questions. Yes, there were definitely things he needed to learn about this seemingly meek and harmless woman who was interested in mystery books and thoroughly disliked London.

  It was time now to bait the lion. “I assume you heard that my man of business, Mr. James Harding, came to an unfortunate end recently. Did you know him?” He watched her carefully for a reaction. He was not disappointed.

  Her body stiffened and her eyes flashed. “Whatever happened to that man was well deserved. There are no words vile enough to describe him. He was a rat. A snake. A devil.” Once the words were out of her mouth, she smiled at him as if they were discussing something very pleasant, although her face remained flushed.

  To say he was taken aback was an understatement. At that moment she looked as though she could kill the man without sorrow or remorse.

  The music came to an end, and he returned Miss Gertrude to the group. Amy was just arriving from a dance with Mr. Beckett, an older gentleman who had been eyeing her at the dances recently. That didn’t sit well with William. Didn’t the man realize he was old enough to be her father? Or at the very least an older—much older—brother?

  He would have to keep an eye on Beckett as well as Mr. Colbert, who still looked unhappy about William’s mother not being with them. Being the protector of women’s virtue was becoming a taxing endeavor.

  Amy linked her arm in his. “Why don’t we take a stroll, my lord?”

  They began their trek around the room. William noticed Lady Margaret conversing with a woman who was unknown to him. “Do you know that woman your aunt is speaking to?”

  “No. I wonder if that’s Mrs. Whitney.”

  “If it is, we can count on Lady Margaret to introduce us. But in the meantime, I must tell you about an interesting conversation I just now had with Miss Gertrude.”

  Amy’s brows rose. “Please do.”

  He repeated the conversation as he and Amy strolled. They nodded at various people they knew as they made their way around the room. Even though Bath’s population grew every year and the town was swollen with visitors du
ring the tourist seasons, there was still a group of longtime residents who for the most part—between business, church, various clubs, and the Assembly—knew each other. Or certainly knew someone who was able to introduce them to anyone unknown.

  “That is quite interesting,” Amy said as he finished his tale. “What I find most telling, besides the fact that she appeared able and willing to shove Mr. Harding into the river, is the fact that she mentioned London when you asked her how long she’d lived here.”

  “I agree. That left me wondering if whatever occurred in Miss Gertrude’s life that Harding found damaging enough for blackmail took place in London.”

  “My thoughts as well.”

  They loitered for a bit at the refreshment table, speaking with other friends. After a while they returned to the group, where Miss Gertrude appeared more composed. Shortly thereafter, the sisters announced that they were tired, were looking forward to the book club meeting on Thursday, and intended to take their leave.

  “May I escort you to your carriage?” Mr. Colbert asked.

  “That would be lovely, Mr. Colbert. Thank you,” Miss Penelope said. The three of them departed just as Lady Margaret walked up to them. Accompanying her was the woman she had been speaking with earlier.

  “May I introduce you to Mrs. Carol Whitney?” Lady Margaret went around the group, presenting each person. Mrs. Whitney was a pleasant-looking woman and appeared to be in her early thirties. She acknowledged everyone and smiled politely.

  Amy, who was standing right next to the newcomer, struck up a conversation with her. Miss Sterling captured William’s attention, so he was unable to hear the discourse between Amy and Mrs. Whitney.

  Once he was free of Miss Sterling, and as Amy was still in deep conversation with Lady Margaret and Mrs. Whitney, William wandered the room. He didn’t see Montrose and hoped to be able to speak with him sometime at their club.

  He was about to return to Amy when she and Lady Margaret walked up to him. “I believe I would like to leave now,” Amy said.