Lord Scoundrel Dies (28 page)

Harry broke off abruptly.

She had wondered if the killer might not be
a female but had dismissed it, accepting Charlie’s belief that a
woman would have been unlikely to do such a thing. But hadn’t that
single red rose suggested something of the kind? There would have
been no need for a man like Lord Sutton to have it, unless a lady
had been present.

‘Well?’ Olivia said, voice taut.

‘It would have been an accident.’ The words
came rather breathlessly but then, Harry had just realised that she
was in a rather precarious position. ‘Surely you were overwrought.
I mean…’

‘I meant to kill him,’ Olivia observed,
voice entirely calm once again. She moved a little closer. She laid
an unnervingly cold hand on Harry’s arm and Harry felt something
even colder press against the bare skin of her forearm as Olivia
brought her other hand forward. ‘Just as I mean to kill you. I have
to, you see. You know. I can’t have anybody knowing, not when the
earl is just about to ask me to marry him.’ There was a strange,
almost hypnotically calm note to the girl’s voice. ‘Walk with me,
Miss Honeywood. Or I will stab you right here.’

Cold fear rippled through
Harry but she tried not to panic. It was not a good idea to panic,
not with somebody who was clearly touched in the head, for it could
precipitate a disaster.
My death, being
first and foremost,
she thought miserably.
Talisker had warned her of this, of course. Of the dangers of
meddling in things that did not concern her. He had told her from
the outset that if anybody suspected she knew anything then it
might be risky. The thought of the viscount upset her almost as
much as having a knife pressed to her side.

‘Is that really a knife?’ she whispered.

‘Of course. I was hoping to meet you
tonight.’

It was a chilling thought, the idea that
somebody had come along to a party hoping to kill somebody else.
Harry wondered what kind of young lady thought to bring a knife
along with them in their reticule. One who was completely and
utterly mad was the obvious answer. Briefly, she wondered what kind
of knife it was before abandoning the thought. Miss Messingham was
clearly quite resourceful and would no doubt have brought something
appropriate.

They began walking away from the people,
heading towards the Serpentine. Away from safety.

‘You don’t have to do this, you know,’ Harry
began. ‘I won’t say a word. I wouldn’t dream of it. I am delighted
that you’re going to marry an earl who seems very smitten,
incidentally. Such a distinguished gentleman, the Earl of Maudsely.
I’m sure he will make an excellent husband.’ She was babbling,
desperately trying to think of something that would make Olivia
change her mind for it really did seem as if she intended to kill
Harry to silence her and whatever knowledge she possessed.

‘He is distinguished, isn’t he?’ Olivia
agreed. ‘Mama always told me that I should aim high when we came to
London and I was determined to do so. For a time it seemed that all
the best men were gone or not at all interested in marriage and I
was quite downcast but then his lordship looked my way. I was quite
relieved. I thought he was interested in Genevieve Thatcher.’

‘Oh, you’re much prettier than Miss
Thatcher,’ Harry reassured her, wondering if there was any way she
could escape. Miss Messingham continued to hold on to her, guiding
her and guarding her at the same time, so it didn’t seem likely at
the moment.

‘It’s not about looks,’ Olivia returned
primly, ‘but about deportment and suitability. I have been very
carefully brought up and know what is expected of me as the wife of
an important man. Miss Thatcher is flighty.’

Even in the midst of her anxiety, this
struck Harry as being an odd way of looking at things. ‘So, what
about that rose, then?’ she said instead. It was a silly thing to
do, hearken back to the death of Lord Sutton, but Harry was hard
pressed to come up with either an escape plan or an acceptable
topic of conversation.

‘Rose?’ Olivia repeated blankly.

‘Beside Lord Sutton’s head. There was a red
rose.’

‘Oh that,’ her companion said dismissively.
‘He gave it to me when I arrived. So ridiculous. As if a flower
would make the smallest bit of difference. I was hoping to get my
bracelet back before he started any nonsense but he said he wanted
a kiss before he gave it to me. And I couldn’t, I just couldn’t let
him kiss me.’ They stopped walking. ‘Step onto the pier, please
Miss Honeywood.’

Harry glanced down and saw that they had
reached the steps of the small wooden pier to which little pleasure
boats were tied. She heard the soft, rhythmic bump of their hulls
against the side as they bobbed gently on the surface of the water.
Harry did not want to climb on the pier.

‘Why?’

There came a sharp sigh. ‘It makes no
difference to me how I kill you,’ Olivia said impatiently. ‘I
suppose I can stab you just as easily as make you get into the
water. But I’m sure that I have read drowning is quite a pleasant
way to die. Didn’t Keats say something about it?’

‘Poetic license, Miss
Messingham,’ Harry said crossly, stepping up onto the pier. Now
that she knew what the girl intended, she went willingly for,
unlike a great many females, Harry could swim like a fish. ‘I can’t
see how he would know
what
it’s like to drown as he was writing the wretched
poem.’

‘I suppose that’s true,’ Olivia allowed. ‘To
the end, if you please. And hurry. Mama will be wondering where I
am.’

They walked towards the end of the pier.
Olivia, apparently more confident now that she had her victim under
control, had released Harry at last and was following close behind.
Several feet from the end, Harry paused and turned to look at
Olivia.

‘So just to get things clear in my head,’
she said firmly. ‘What happened after Lord Sutton suggested he kiss
you?’

‘I suggested he get me a glass of wine. When
he turned to do so, I picked up one of the big candleholders that
stood beside the door and I hit him. I hurried forward and touched
his arm and when he turned, I struck him as hard as I could. I
wanted to hit him on the temple, you see. When I was young, one of
the stableboys had fallen and hit his temple and I recalled that
the doctor told me this is a delicate part of the head. I would
have preferred poison, of course but it is really quite hard to
find.’ Olivia pursed her lips, clearly ruminating on the
difficulties of obtaining her preferred method of murder.

‘I see,’ Harry said faintly, because it did
seem that Olivia was waiting for some response.

‘Afterwards I searched the room, looking for
my bracelet but I couldn’t find it anywhere. I heard a noise – a
door closing somewhere and I knew I had to get out of there.’

‘You acted on impulse,’ Harry said quietly.
‘He was behaving reprehensibly and –’

‘I went to Lord Sutton’s determined to
silence him once and for all,’ Olivia retorted, clearly happy to
tell the unvarnished truth to somebody who she intended to see dead
in the very near future. She was a pretty girl, light brown hair
caught up in a cascade of ringlets, hazel eyes – which Harry had
thought of as a little vacant on their last two meetings – now
alive with emotion. ‘I know very well what kind of man he was. He
blackmailed people, used their mistakes against them. I could not
possibly allow that man to have any kind of hold on me. He had to
go.’

‘Miss Messingham!’

The hail had come from the other end of the
pier. Olivia swung around, knife raised instinctively, while Harry
peered cautiously around her. The reflected light from the party,
not one hundred yards away, was enough to show that they had been
joined by two others. Harry gasped softly when she recognized both
newcomers; Lord Talisker and Mr. Lampforth, bless them!

How apt, she thought with a touch of
incipient hysteria. Having taken part in the entire affair, it
seemed entirely fitting that they should both be here for the
dénouement.

‘Stay where you are!’ Olivia said sharply.
Harry could sense her mind working furiously, trying to work out
what new threat she must deal with. ‘Who is it?’

Naturally it was his lordship that spoke. He
would always be the leader, confident and assured. It should have
irritated Harry but she found that, under the circumstances, she
could forgive him for his pushing ways. Not only could she forgive
him, she was half inclined to fling herself onto his chest, just to
feel those oh-so-capable arms enfold her.

‘Viscount Talisker,’ he replied coolly,
giving his title and therefore a little more weight to the
conversation. ‘And Mr. Lampforth. We are looking for Miss
Honeywood.’

‘Are you? But she is right here with me.
Aren’t you Miss Honeywood?’ Bizarrely, Olivia Messingham had
reverted to the mask most suited to Polite Society. She even
uttered a light laugh. ‘She has been so good as to accompany me for
a walk.’

‘Has she?’ He was moving forward, while
Charlie brought up the rear, watchfully silent. ‘Miss
Honeywood?’

‘I’m right here,’ Harry said, wondering if
she could edge around Miss Messingham. Was her companion really
going to try and pretend that they were merely taking a stroll
together? Olivia did not know, of course, that the two men were her
co-conspirators.

‘Ah, Miss Honeywood,’ his lordship said, as
if it were the most natural thing in the world to find her at the
end of a pier in the dark. ‘I have been looking for you. Your aunt
has been wondering where you are and Mr. Lampforth said I would
bring you to her. And you must allow me to escort you, too, Miss
Messingham. We cannot have two such charming young ladies out
without an escort.’

Olivia was silent and Harry
wondered what she would do. She could hardly try and murder all
three of them, surely.
But she’s deeply
disturbed,
Harry reminded herself
anxiously. It was impossible to predict
what
she might do.

‘That’s very kind of you,’ Olivia said at
last, ‘but Miss Honeywood and I will return shortly. We have been
having such a pleasant chat. Please return to the party and tell
Lady Astley that I won’t keep her niece for very much longer.’

Mad and not easy to manipulate, Harry
thought ruefully. Olivia Messingham appeared resolute in carrying
out her plan of drowning her in the Serpentine, oblivious to the
fact that Harry’s accident, so soon after this conversation would
look decidedly odd. That, she supposed, was where the mad part came
in. In her head, Miss Messingham had a plan and very little doubt
that she could carry it out. It didn’t look like she would have to
swim to save herself after all for Harry felt a great deal more
confident about her survival now that his lordship and Charlie had
arrived. They must be aware that something was wrong. Indeed, Lord
Talisker’s tone said as much for he was behaving with considerable
circumspection.

‘We could not possibly leave you,’ Talisker
said again, voice gentle.

Gentle or not, Olivia must have heard the
implacable note in it for she turned back to Harry. ‘Very well,’
she said gaily. ‘Miss Honeywood, take my arm and we shall
return.’

Harry took an involuntary step backwards for
‘take my arm’ sounded a lot like ‘I’m about to push you into the
water’ to her sensitive ears. Talisker must have thought so too for
suddenly he was there, his hand reaching out to take a firm hold on
Miss Messingham’s arm.

‘I think she can manage by herself.’

Olivia Messingham went very still and Harry
suddenly remembered something rather important. ‘She has a knife!’
she warned him sharply.

The words jarred Olivia into sudden, frantic
life and suddenly she was turning, the knife raised, ready to
plunge it into the man that was holding her captive. Harry gave a
shriek of horrified warning as his lordship’s other arm shot up,
capturing Olivia’s deadly thrust.

‘Lampforth,’ he said, raising his voice. ‘A
little help, if you please.’

Charlie hurried forward, then stood
hesitating. It took Harry a moment to realise that he didn’t quite
know where to put his hands on the squirming girl. Such manners,
she thought with a touch of hysteria. With a small shrug, he
clamped his arms around her upper half, locking them together and
allowing Talisker to disarm Olivia Messingham and bring her under
control. With the knife removed and finding herself restrained, the
girl suddenly went completely limp, as if the life had completely
drained out of her.

‘She’s fainted,’ Charlie muttered, trying to
keep the unconscious Olivia from falling onto the planks beneath
them.

But now that Olivia had been contained
Talisker seemed to have lost all interest. He strode across to
Harry and took her by the shoulders. ‘Are you alright?’

‘Yes,’ she managed a wavering smile. Now
that the danger had passed her knees felt unpleasantly weak, as if
cotton had replaced the bones in her legs. ‘Miss Messingham
murdered Lord Sutton.’

‘So I surmised. That damned rose. I didn’t
think…’ Releasing her shoulders, he took her chin in his hand and
tilted her face up, studying her. ‘Are you alright?’ he said again
and this time, his voice was immensely gentle.

‘I do feel a little peculiar.’

He shook his head. ‘I daresay. Dear God,
what am I to do with you? I have never met a female more inclined
to fall into trouble.’

‘You clearly don’t know enough females,
then,’ she returned, rallying a little. She needed to pull herself
together. He would be thinking her a very poor specimen.

Her response produced a short, rueful laugh.
‘I think I know more than enough, thank-you.’

‘What are we going to do with Miss
Messingham? She’s completely mad, I think. Her family… they will be
devastated.’