An Old Money Murder in Mayfair Read online

  Clara’s gaze dropped from mine as I went on, “And the dowager had just eaten more of it. That was quick thinking on your part to knock over the tea tray. With the last bit of the marmalade spilling onto the carpet, it would have to be scrubbed off and discarded, leaving no food for the police to examine. Then Gigi took the blame for the spill, which meant you wouldn’t get in trouble and the police would have no idea it was you who knocked over the tea tray.”

  “But the motor? Clara doesn’t drive,” Gigi said.

  “You may have never seen Clara drive, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t know how. During the War, Clara worked as a motor mechanic at an airfield, information she’s quick to share. I assumed—mistakenly—that because the location was an airfield, Clara worked on the motors of planes, but she also worked on the motorcars. And I would assume that if one worked on a motorcar, one would need to drive a motorcar at times. Isn’t that right, Clara? Can you drive a motor?”

  She lifted her chin. “Of course. Everyone at the airfield knew how.”

  “It also explains her friendliness with the chauffeur,” I said. “I understand he has a bit of a drinking problem. Did you visit him in the mews and bring him a nice bottle of something? After a while, he probably wouldn’t mind—or notice—if you took the motor out.”

  Lillian said suddenly, “And the cameo! It was Clara’s, wasn’t it? That’s why Stella said it was just the beginning.” The words burst out of Lillian, and when everyone turned to look at her, she dropped her head.

  “You’re right, Lillian,” I said. “Stella tried to blackmail Clara because she’d seen her put something in the marmalade. Clara gave the cameo to Stella, and I’m sure she promised to pay her more later. But then Clara retrieved the chocolate box from Gigi’s room, added arsenic from her cosmetics to the chocolates, and left the box of sweets for Stella. I’m sure you wanted to retrieve the cameo, but you must not have been able to find it, so you made up the story about losing it in my room.” I turned to Thorn. “The poisoning of the dowager was accidental, but Clara intentionally killed Stella and implicated Gigi.”

  Gigi stared at Clara. “And you did all of this because of Captain Inglebrook?”

  “Yes.” She lifted her chin. “I love him. And he loves me. He does. He’ll see that, if only I can get you out of the way.”

  Felix, who was seated on the other end of the sofa from Clara, had inched as far away from her as the cushions allowed. “Then you’ll have to get rid of the Longchamp girl too.”

  Clara switched her attention to Felix. “What do you mean?”

  He leaned back as if afraid her intense gaze would burn through him. “He and the Longchamp girl—I forget her name—the dime-store heiress. They’re engaged.”

  “No! It’s not true. He loves me.”

  I shook my head at Felix, but he missed the signal to stop talking and went on, “Afraid it is, old thing. Inglebrook just stopped by to tell Gigi. I opened the door to the drawing room on them and overheard the whole thing. Accidentally, of course.” Felix shot an apologetic glance at Gigi and didn’t see the look of fury that suffused Clara’s face.

  Gigi, still looking shell-shocked, said, “It’s all right, Felix, I know you didn’t mean to intrude.”

  “That’s a lie,” Clara said. Felix shook his head. “Yes, you’re lying about Captain Inglebrook! You are!”

  Gigi said, “No, it’s true. He called to tell me. He and Miss Longchamp are to be married by special license.”

  Clara shook her head. “No. It isn’t true!”

  “I’m sorry, but it is,” Gigi said. “The announcement will be in the newspapers tomorr—”

  Clara jumped up and shouted, “Stop it! You’re lying!” She darted across the room to the door.

  Thorn was the first to recover, but Clara had already run into the hallway. Thorn took off after her, calling for his sergeant.

  We rushed after him but bottlenecked at the doorway. A shriek cut through the air, then a thud sounded and repeated, reminding me of the time when the footmen at Parkview had lost their grip on a trunk they were carrying upstairs. It had thunked and banged in just that same way as it tumbled down the stairs.

  We burst into the corridor, but Thorn shouted at us, “Stay there! Do not come downstairs.”

  I surged to the banister and peered over. Clara lay on the landing, her head bent at an odd angle. The sergeant ran up the stairs as Thorn trotted down. “Her foot caught on the runner, sir,” the sergeant called as he kneeled beside her. Thorn blocked my view of Clara, but I could see the sergeant as he shook his head. “Nothing we can do for her.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Three weeks later, I was fox-trotting around the ballroom of Marlowe House with Felix. Lisbet was throwing the Winter Party, the last social event before everyone departed for the country to celebrate Christmas. Huge sparkling snowflakes made from crystal pendants hung from the ceiling, poinsettias and mistletoe abounded, and a full-size sled, its runners covered in fabric, had been pulled around the room—by guests, not reindeer—before the crush of people become too tight for anyone to move unimpeded more than one foot in any direction. Gigi said Father Christmas and his elves were roving through the guests, distributing presents, but I hadn’t seen any of the costumed gift-bearers in the crowd. Felix and I were relegated to circling a tiny bit of the dance floor as the other couples squeezed in around us.

  “I hear congratulations are in order,” I said to him, “that you will soon be a published author.”

  “It’s true, thanks to Gigi.” Felix nodded toward Gigi as she and Mr. Tower swept by us. Mr. Tower’s tall figure cut through the swarm of dancers like the prow of a ship through water.

  “Tell me how it happened. Gigi’s been rather coy about it.”

  The long wings of hair on either side of Felix’s face had fallen forward when he tilted his head, and now he shook them back and said, “Gigi was always complaining that my plays were too grim, so I gave her one of my frivolous little projects, a ‘shocker.’ All action and suspense. Man on the run from danger, that sort of thing. Pure tripe. But she kept telling me it was good. She wanted me to submit it to publishers, but I resisted. She took matters into her own hands.”

  “That sounds like Gigi.”

  “She sent it to a friend of Mr. Tower’s. He runs a small publishing house and, well . . .” Felix shrugged, but he couldn’t keep the grin off his face. “It will be published next summer.”

  “That’s wonderful news.”

  “Thank you. It’s not serious work, but one has to start somewhere.”

  “Very true. I’ll buy a copy when it comes out. I like mystery and intrigue.”

  Jasper tapped Felix on the shoulder.

  “Good evening. May I cut in?” Jasper asked, and Felix stepped back, bumping into another couple behind him. By the time he’d apologized and Jasper held out his hand to me, the music had changed to a waltz.

  “Oh my. I don’t think we’ll be able to do a proper waltz,” I said.

  “We’ll do our best.”

  “I didn’t think you’d be here this evening.” Jasper had been away from London for several weeks. “Where have you been? Haverhill?”

  “No. Just here and there. The work of a bachelor gentleman is never done, it seems.”

  “You’re quite a catch.” Jasper’s attention had been divided between our conversation and checking over my shoulder to make sure we didn’t bump into any of the other couples, but at my words, his gaze returned to me. I said, “What I mean is, any hostess would be thrilled to have you, I’m sure.”

  “Or it’s desperate times, which require desperate measures.” He spun us around, avoiding a giggling couple who were still fox-trotting. “I’m glad I found you in this squeeze. I’m anxious to hear about your flat. No hiccups this time? All settled in?”

  “Yes, thank goodness. I’m quite enjoying it. It’s the perfect size for me, and it’s in a wonderful location. I’m quite the luckiest working girl in Londo
n.”

  We danced in silence a few moments. Jasper was an excellent partner, and when a small gap opened on the dance floor, he twirled us around. The lights spun, and the colorful dresses blurred. It felt as if we were skimming along, our feet barely touching the floor. “This is lovely, Jasper.”

  He smiled at me. “Yes, it is.”

  That smile! It created a fluttery sensation inside me. I looked away. It was just a smile. No need to overreact.

  The crush of dancers meant our dance positions weren’t at all proper. We were pressed up against each other so close that I could smell his citrus and cinnamon aftershave. My reactions to being so close to Jasper weren’t proper either. The warmth of his hand on my back penetrated through the filmy chiffon of my evening gown. I suddenly wished I had one of those daring gowns with the plunging backs so I could feel his hand on my skin.

  What a scandalous thought! I had to get ahold of myself. This was Jasper. I’d known him forever. I couldn’t go moony over him. I peeked up at him and plummeted from my dreamy state down to earth. Our closeness didn’t seem to affect him at all. In fact, he seemed completely unaware of the wild swing of my emotions.

  I stiffened my arms, widening the distance between us by a quarter inch. Behaving like a smitten schoolgirl wouldn’t do. Jasper and I might banter and flirt a bit, but had he ever signaled in any substantial way that he was interested in changing things between us? No. He smiled at me in what I thought was a special way, but perhaps I was reading more into that than was actually there. Jasper was a good friend. What I felt for him was a deep friendship—that was all. I ignored the little stab of discontent that surged through me as I gave myself a stern mental shake.

  Jasper’s attention was on something behind me. “Look who’s in attendance—the new Captain and Mrs. Inglebrook.” He turned us around so I could peer over his shoulder. Inglebrook and his new bride were dancing a few yards away from us. The new Mrs. Inglebrook had a plain face, a nice figure, and frizzy blonde hair.

  “Not at all like Gigi, is she?”

  Inglebrook whispered in his wife’s ear. When he pulled back, she gave him an adoring gaze.

  “No, but they do seem quite happy,” Jasper said. “And how is Gigi? How has she taken Inglebrook’s sudden marriage?”

  Through the gaps in the dancers, it was easy to spot Mr. Tower’s imposing figure and his ginger hair. Despite their mismatched heights, Gigi looked as if she was having a wonderful time. She was laughing as they waltzed through the crowd. “Quite well. She was more shaken by Clara’s actions than she was by Inglebrook’s.”

  “Yes, I imagine so. It must have been quite frightening to learn Clara tried to poison her.”

  “Gigi was devastated.”

  “How did you work it out?”

  “It was the cameo. Once I realized that Clara hadn’t lost it and that it was a blackmail payment to Stella, I realized it was Clara who was at the center of things. I always thought of her as ‘poor Clara.’ She had a difficult time of things. The way it ended . . . well, it was such a sad situation.”

  “Unrequited love can be quite devastating.”

  There was something in his voice—some small note that was almost wistful—that made me look closely at him. But if there had been some undercurrent in his words, it was gone in an instant. The music tapered off, and we came to a standstill. Jasper looked up, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “I do believe that’s mistletoe above us.”

  “Yes, it does look like it.” That glimpse of his unguarded expression prompted me to say, “Well, ’tis the season.” I put my hands on his lapels, went up on my tiptoes, and kissed him on the cheek, inhaling the spicy scent of his aftershave. I intended to give him a quick peck, but as my lips pressed against his smooth cheek, I found myself slowing down. The thought flashed through my mind that it would be so easy to tilt my head a little more and kiss him on the lips. I lingered, my face close to his, but then I realized he was frozen with a look on his face that I’d never seen before.

  I felt as if someone had tossed a bucket of water over me as I realized what that look meant. I was wrong. Jasper didn’t have any deeper romantic notions about me. I’d overstepped a boundary and completely misread the banter and light flirting we’d engaged in. I’d ruined everything between us, and we’d never again have that easy camaraderie that I enjoyed so much.

  Now I was paralyzed. I choked out, “I—I’m sorry—”

  But then he turned his head, a small smile turning up the corners of his lips as he breathed my name and kissed me on the mouth in a way that sent sparkly sensations reverberating throughout my whole body.

  I’d been kissed—or a few boys had attempted to kiss me—but those were bungling, awkward, and in one case, sloppy affairs. Jasper’s kiss was entirely different. It was delightful. Absolutely delightful.

  He lifted his head. Faint music was playing and people were talking, but at that moment, it was just me and Jasper as we stared at each other. Then the invisible bubble around us broke as two people rushing onto the dance floor forced us apart. The music surged as the orchestra struck up another fox-trot, but our gazes were still locked.

  From a long distance, someone said my name.

  They repeated it more loudly.

  “Um?” I pulled my attention away from Jasper and found Essie by my side, her bright, birdlike gaze bouncing from me to Jasper and back again. The last thing in the world I wanted was for Essie to grasp what had just happened, so I composed my features into what I hoped was a semblance of my normal expression.

  “Anything new for me, Olive? Something as juicy as that scoop you gave me about what happened at Alton House?” Essie’s tone was speculative. “Perhaps something of a more personal nature?”

  “Nothing as exciting as that. I’m living very quietly, arranging things in my new flat. Utterly boring. Nothing here to entertain your readers.”

  “Hmm. Somehow I doubt that. Your life is never quiet.”

  I looked at Jasper as I said, “It’s all been positively wonderful lately—very lately.”

  She made another humming noise, then turned to Jasper. “What about you, Mr. Rimington? You promised me you would tell me about Sir Archibald’s hunt. Anything salacious happen?”

  “Nothing salacious. Now, if you want scandalous . . .”

  “Scandalous will do in a pinch.”

  “Then perhaps I can get you a cup of eggnog and we can discuss it.” Jasper extended his arm, turned his head so that Essie couldn’t see, and winked at me.

  I heaved a sigh of relief as Jasper escorted Essie away. I didn’t think I could hide my happiness much longer. A fizzy champagne feeling was bubbling inside of me, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  Gigi, coming off the dance floor, took one look at me and pulled me away to a small table in the corner. “Darling, you look positively radiant. That color suits you.”

  “It’s more than the dress. I think—yes, I’m almost sure—I’m in love.”

  “With whom?”

  “Jasper.”

  “Finally!”

  “What?”

  “I said ‘finally.’ As in, it’s about time.”

  “You mean, you thought Jasper—um—fancied me?”

  She gave me a pitying look. “Darling, we all know how he feels about you. One only has to see the way he looks at you.”

  “But why didn’t you say something? I thought—well, that he might not want to be anything except a friend to me. He gave me a few hints, but nothing definite until I kissed him tonight.”

  “You kissed him?” Gigi said with relish. “Good show, Olive. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

  “It was lovely, and more than that—it was . . . exciting.”

  “Ah, lovely and exciting?” Gigi flared her eyebrows. “Those are the best kind of kisses.”

  “Gigi, stop. I’m already warm enough as it is.” I flapped my hands in front of my face.

  She laughed. “All right, I’ll leave off, but know that I�
�m very happy for you. And I’m sure Jasper is over the moon. He’s been waiting for so long.”

  “But why didn’t he press his suit?”

  “Because he’s a gentleman. He was waiting for you to make up your mind.” Gigi put her hand on the snowy white tablecloth. “If things weren’t moving so quickly for me, I’d suggest a joint wedding . . .”

  Her words pierced the pleasant golden foggy sensation I was drifting along in. “Did you say you’re getting married?”

  “Yes.” Gigi wiggled her fingers, and an enormous ruby sparkled. “To the man of my dreams. We’ll announce our engagement tomorrow at a dinner party. You’ll come, won’t you?”

  “Who?”

  “Benny, of course.”

  “Who?”

  “Benny Tower.”

  “Mr. Tower?” Flighty, fashion-conscious Gigi and the solid, respectable, and somewhat staid solicitor? “Essie asked me if I had a scoop for her, and I said no, but she’ll have one tomorrow for her society column.” I spoke before I considered my words. “But you said you didn’t find Mr. Tower attractive.” I immediately wished I could take the statement back. My only excuse for such gauche behavior was that my brain was muddled with the fact that Jasper had kissed me.

  Gigi’s grin widened. “Benny, not Mr. Tower. You’ll have to get used to calling him that. What I said was that Benny wasn’t as handsome as Captain Inglebrook. And I did point out that Benny has nice shoulders—very nice shoulders.” She sighed contently. “I know he’s not like all the other chaps I’m usually with, but Benny is”—she tilted her head and looked away, her manner turning almost shy—“well, he’s wonderful, really. Solid and dependable, and he adores me. And he likes for me to look smart,” she added in a manner that indicated it was that last quality that had clenched the deal. “You know I could never marry some old fusspot who always worried about money. Benny has his own money—oodles and oodles of it—so I know he’s not marrying me for mine—or Granny’s money, more accurately.”