Page 70 of A Dangerous Vision

“I visited Regent Square today, Mr. Pennington, and was given permission by Mrs. Earnsley to inspect Mrs. Devlin’s room.”

Lance Pennington’s eyes narrowed as Gideon shifted to dig into his waistcoat pocket.

“I found this in Mrs. Devlin’s bedside drawer.” Gideon handed the young man the monogrammed handkerchief that had clearly belonged to Percival Pennington.

The man’s brother refused to give it more than a cursory glance.

“Perhaps my brother left it at the club at some point. Maybe she intended to return it to him.”

“It was tucked away inside the drawer underneath other objects. Something she chose as a keepsake.”

“She has keepsakes from me as well, I assure you. Did you find a pair of garnet earbobs? I gave her those.”

“Did you and your brother ever argue over Mrs. Devlin?”

Pennington sighed and gave him a wry look. “Do you have any siblings, Inspector?”

“No.” None that he knew of, though he suspected there might be a few.

“Well, if you had, you would know that siblings argue. We've been arguing since we were children. So we did have a row here and there, but much less frequently than when we were children.”

Gideon did not know the extent of Percival Pennington’s wealth, though with a townhouse in Mayfair, it must have been sizable. Was that sufficient motive for a man to kill his brother? Perhaps. But when paired with jealousy, it seemed to Gideon quite a potent incitement.

“What did you argue about of late?” he asked.

Pennington ground his teeth. “The list would be a long one, Inspector. My brother did not respect my writing endeavors. He took umbrage with my failure to settle on a profession he approved of.” He loosened the stranglehold he had on the arms of the chair he sat in. “I’d also incurred debts and he forever urged me to work harder, to make more of myself, as he would say.”

He’d stopped himself from saying more. Gideon noted how his jaw tightened. It looked like he was trying to hold the rest in.

Finally, he looked at Gideon squarely once more. “There were many topics that we disagreed upon, Inspector, but none that would have caused me to take a blade to my brother and end his life.”

“Speaking of blades, do you own any, Mr. Pennington?”

The color in his cheeks had faded but rushed back now. His eyes flashed with anger. “No, I cannot say that I do. We have some at the theatre. Blunt-sided, covered in foil. Not much use for a murderer.” He inhaled sharply. “Someone killed my brother, Inspector, but it was not me.”

“Did you argue over money?”

Pennington shifted in his chair. “At one point he was providing me with an allowance, but he cut me off when he decided that my work was not respectable. That did anger me, yes. Because the provision for an allowance was something that my father had begun, and Percival changed the rules to please himself.”

“That seems rather arbitrary.”

“Indeed, and I am stubborn, so his tactics were not convincing. He was forever admonishing me to study law or become a banker. Such endeavors would have withered my soul. I would much rather live a creative life and remain impoverished than devote myself to a profession I had no love for.”

“Did Mrs. Devlin feel the same?”

Pennington fixed his gaze on Gideon at the change of topic.

“You said that you would have offered for her, Mr. Pennington, but could you have offered for her?”

“I do earn, Inspector. I’m not a wealthy man, but I’m not a pauper either.”

“I only meant that purchasing a home and running a household are significant expenses.”

He ground his teeth. “I would have taken on extra work.” The young man sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes fierce. “When you love someone, you'll move all of creation to be with them. I would, but...” He settled back in his chair again. “Demeter has made it clear on several occasions that she has had enough of marriage.” He cut a hand through the air in a dismissive gesture. “She was married previously to a dreadful man.”

Gideon had held his final card long enough. “Did you know that your brother visited Mrs. Devlin as recently as the last few weeks?”

Pennington scoffed. “Who has made that claim? It is inaccurate, I assure you. Percy had become fixated on his mystery amour. At the inquest, I deduced that was Lady Cordelia Redmayne. Obsessed with her, I’d say. He had stopped going to Miss Mahoney’s salon.”