Page 91 of Not a Fine Gentleman

“They were fast friends; I’m certain he’s grieved that Hennessy’s murderer is still at large.”

“Perhaps that’s it.” But her tone implied otherwise. After adding cream and sugar, Mrs. Finch sipped her tea. A troubled frown creased her brows.

They chatted about family and other news, but their conversation felt stilted and unnatural.

“I understand Bow Street has been tasked with solving the murder,” Mrs. Finch said.

“Yes, they are working most diligently to uncover the truth.”

“Do they have any suspects now that they no longer believe it’s you?” Mrs. Finch asked.

“I’m not privy to the inner workings of Bow Street.”

“Of course. More tea?”

Margaret accepted another cup of tea. Adding a lump of sugar and splash of cream to her tea, she asked, “Out of curiosity, during your last dinner party, did you happen to notice anything unusual?”

“Unusual?” Mrs. Finch blinked at her with wide eyes.

“Anyone leaving at an odd time? People that you’ve never seen coming and going—perhaps even a few days prior? A servant who should have been there helping, but who left instead?” Margaret stirred her tea and affected a mildly curious expression.

Mrs. Finch shook her head. “The only unusual thing I noticed that night was Old Dan leaving for an errand moments before our dinner party began.”

“Is Old Dan a footman?” Margaret asked.

“Oh no, he’s far too ugly.” She gave a delicate shiver. “He’s my husband’s special kind of errand boy.” Mrs. Finch spread her hands. “Old Dan is rather an odd sort if you know what I mean. He’s fiercely loyal to my husband, but sometimes I get the feeling he’s unhappy with us. Perhaps he cannot find better employment. He’s quite homely, you see. No one of fashion would have him for a footman.”

Since no response seemed appropriate, Margaret merely said, “Poor thing.”

“How are you, Lady Hennessy? I know there was no love lost between you and your husband, but you must be lonely now that he’s well and truly gone.” Despite the kind words, genuine friendship and concern lacked in her tone and expression. She spoke rather as if she hoped to find some juicy information she could gossip about later with her friends. Was that, then, her motive for inviting Margaret for tea?

“I have been lonely for a long time,” Margaret said evasively.

Truth be told, living with her family and seeing so much of Connor had taken the sting out of any possible grief she might have felt. The memory of Connor’s kisses remained with her in such vivid detail that a ghostly imprint of his lips still warmed hers. Just the thought sent a rush of hot tingles zinging through her. Hennessy’s kisses had been skilled but calculating, designed to bend her to his will. Connor’s kiss had been equally skilled, but honest, somehow—as if he merely wished to express desire and even, she dared hope, affection.

At the moment, however, she needed to stay focused on her main reason for paying a call on Mrs. Finch. “Hennessy once mentioned something about diamonds, and since he and your husband were friends, I wondered if you might know anything about that?”

“Only that I’m fond of them,” Mrs. Finch said coyly.

“What about diamond mines?”

Mrs. Finch cocked her head as if sifting through memories. “Oh, yes, I think they were considering buying some diamond mines—or was it that they already had? I’m not certain.”

To soften the line of questions, Margaret smiled and made a little wave. “Yes, well—who cares about the affairs of men and business?”

Mrs. Finch smiled too. “Exactly. I’m sure I don’t.”

They chatted of other things, Mrs. Finch filling her in on the latest ton gossip and who had not left for their country houses.

Once Margaret finished her tea, she glanced at the clock. “Thank you for your invitation, but I do not wish to overstay my welcome.”

“Thank you for coming, Lady Margaret.”

A young servant girl entered and bobbed a curtsy. Margaret schooled her features to prevent herself from revealing her recognition. Cora, the chef’s assistant who Margaret had helped in the past, glanced urgently at Margaret before she addressed Mrs. Finch, “Begging your pardon, ma’am, but the chef and housekeeper are requesting a moment of your time when you are able.”

Mrs. Finch fixed a disapproving glare on the girl who’d broken a rule about servants being seen—especially by guests.

Before Mrs. Finch got a word out, Margaret intervened. “I can see myself out if your maid,” Margaret gestured toward Cora, “will help me into my wraps.”