Social Graces (Victorian Vigilantes Book 5) Read online

  ‘I wasn’t unsettled, not really. Don’t take any notice of me. I am still unaccustomed to being a countess, and keep expecting people to accuse me of being a fraud.’

  ‘You have been a countess for the better part of a year.’

  ‘In Torbay, where no one knew anything to my detriment.’

  Jake shook his head. ‘There is nothing to your detriment for anyone to know. Quite the reverse.’

  ‘My innocence will not prevent the gossips from agreeing that you have made an almighty fool of yourself.’ Olivia grinned at him. ‘Anyway, you will have the pleasure of intellectual conversation with Isaac that has nothing to do with babies, or wives with insecurities. I had Eva with me in Torbay but Isaac didn’t stay long enough for you to enjoy his company.’

  ‘Isaac is much in demand as a barrister, as you well know. That sensational murder trial over the summer took all his time.’

  ‘But he was able to have the accused acquitted when the newspapers were all convinced of his guilt. I was very glad about that.’

  ‘We need a more diligent police force,’ Jake replied, scowling. ‘One that will take an intelligent look at the facts, rather than jumping to conclusions and pouncing upon the most likely suspect.’

  Olivia flexed a brow. ‘That’s asking a lot. I cannot see it ever happening myself.’

  ‘We shall see. Anyway, you’re right. I shall be delighted to see Isaac.’

  Eva Arnold had been in a similar position as Olivia when they first met. She had been forced into matrimony with a brute of a man who sought to control her every waking moment. Eva was the earl of Redbridge’s daughter and had been literally sold into marriage to a middle-class…well, crook for want of a better word. Jake, Isaac and Olivia had helped her to escape that marriage, her husband had died in a duel fought with Isaac, and Eva had been reunited with her daughter, Grace. Isaac had fallen desperately in love with Eva and they were married the moment Eva’s period of mourning for a husband she had despised came to an end. As a barrister with a rising reputation for achieving justice, whenever anyone was accused of a high-profile crime, Isaac was their first choice as a defence barrister. Olivia knew that he was obliged to turn away more work than he took on.

  Olivia heard the front door open and glanced at the clock. ‘They are early,’ she said, smiling. ‘Obviously, they are as keen to see us as we are them.’

  Parker entered the room. ‘Chichester is here,’ he said with his usual verbal economy, ‘and says he needs an urgent word.’

  ‘The marquess?’ Jake scowled, never having had much time for a man whom he’d once described to Olivia as a bit of a scoundrel. ‘Did he tell you what he wants?’

  ‘No, but he seems to be in a bit of a state. Do you want me to send him away?’

  Jake shared a glance with Olivia. ‘Do you mind?’ he asked.

  ‘Not in the least. I can only assume that he has heard you are back in town and has some urgent difficulty that requires your skilful intervention. I admit to being intrigued since I am aware that you don’t much care for the man, nor he for you. I wonder what problem could be pressing enough to make him swallow his pride and come knocking at your door.’

  ‘He’s an arrogant individual. Did you know that he was intimate with my brother?’

  ‘No, I did not.’ Olivia touched Jake’s hand. ‘You should not receive him. You don’t need to be reminded of that unhappy period in your life.’

  ‘They were cut pretty much from the same cloth in their youth, Chichester and Edward that is, and enjoyed their debauched ways. Chichester was older and Edward went out of his way to court his society.’

  ‘That’s one way of putting it,’ Parker said with a sneer.

  Olivia nodded. Parker had been a footman in this house when Jake’s brother had been at his wildest.

  ‘Was he…’

  ‘No,’ Jake replied. ‘He wasn’t here on the night Edward died but he’s probably heard skewed accounts of what actually happened, which makes his coming here voluntarily all the more intriguing.’ He sighed. ‘Very well, Parker, show him in.’

  ‘I don’t think I have ever met the marquess,’ Olivia said as they waited for him to make an appearance. ‘What I don’t comprehend is why you would help a man whom you neither like nor respect.’

  Jake lifted one shoulder. ‘I don’t know whether I shall help him. It rather depends upon what he has to say for himself. We shall soon know.’

  Parker returned and announced the marquess. Olivia watched him as he crossed the large room to join them. She was immediately minded of a small, mobile mountain. He was a man of about forty with thick dark hair liberally threaded with grey, and whiskers that were beginning to turn white. His face had probably once been handsome but his eyes and the definition of his cheekbones had been swallowed up by wobbling flesh, making him seem older than his years. He was superbly attired but even the most expensive tailoring couldn’t completely conceal his girth.

  ‘Torbay,’ he said, shaking Jake’s hand. ‘Good of you to receive me. Lady Torbay,’ he added, turning to Olivia, who had also stood to greet him. ‘It’s a pleasure. May I offer you my congratulations upon your nuptials?’

  ‘You may indeed,’ Olivia replied, bobbing the suggestion of a curtsey and resuming her seat. Her first impression was not favourable. The man had come here, presumably to seek Jake’s help, yet maintained an air of superiority that Olivia found unnecessary and irritating. There again, she sensed that he was deeply upset about something, as evidenced by the deep frown creasing his forehead, so she reserved judgement upon the man himself.

  ‘Have a seat, Chichester,’ Jake said. ‘Will you take refreshment?’

  He nodded towards Jake’s almost empty glass. ‘Whatever you’re having.’

  ‘Whisky for our guest, Parker. I’ll take a refill, too. My dear?’ he added, turning towards Olivia. Chichester scowled, clearly having supposed that Jake would see him alone. Olivia had considered withdrawing, thus providing the gentlemen with an opportunity to conduct their conversation in private, but now changed her mind.

  ‘Wine, if you please, Parker,’ she said sweetly.

  Once they had been served with their drinks and Parker had withdrawn, Jake got straight to the point, clearly in no mood to make small talk with a man he held in such low esteem.

  ‘To what do we owe the pleasure?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, I…’ He glanced at Olivia. ‘It’s a delicate matter.’

  ‘You can speak freely in front of my wife. She is not easily shocked.’

  Chichester shifted uneasily in his chair, his eyes downcast. He took a long swallow of his drink, allowing the tense silence to lengthen between them. Neither Jake nor Olivia sought to break it and eventually Chichester spoke again.

  ‘The fact of the matter is,’ he said, looking directly at Jake. ‘I am in desperate need of your help. I know you have a reputation for tact and discretion,’ he added, sending a significant look Olivia’s way, ‘and I have very great need of those attributes.’

  ‘I presumed that was the case,’ Jake replied, leaning back in his chair, as much at his ease as Chichester was discomposed. ‘But you have yet to explain why.’

  ‘Well look.’ He ran a hand through his hair. ‘There’s a very real possibility that I might be accused—wrongfully, I assure you—of murder.’

  Chapter Two

  Jake immediately regretted not receiving Chichester alone. He had known this was no social call and that Chichester would only swallow his pride and beat a path to his door if he was in urgent need of Jake’s detective skills. But murder? It had not occurred to him that it would be anything quite so serious or as upsetting for his beloved wife.

  His gaze slid apologetically towards Olivia as he attempted to gauge how badly affected she had been by Chichester’s admission—so similar to her own worst nightmare. His wife had already expressed uncharacteristic concerns about her return to London. Now, thanks to Jake’s lack of foresight, she had been dealt a first-hand
reminder of the agonies she herself had endured a few short years previously. He knew from first-hand experience that memories of those agonies still sometimes kept her awake and restless late into the night.

  ‘Goodness!’ Typically, it was Olivia who broke the terse silence, not seeming unduly disturbed by the nature of Chichester’s plight. ‘May one ask whom you are supposed to have murdered?’

  ‘A friend.’ Chichester cleared his throat and studied his hands, acutely embarrassed. ‘An actress, as a matter of fact.’

  Jake muttered a litany of curses beneath his breath, and the scowl he directed towards Chichester would have deterred a less desperate man. Chichester should have called during the afternoon, when Olivia was less likely to be at home. But even if she had not been a party to their discussion this evening, which Chichester had clearly assumed she would not be, she would still have asked Jake what he had wanted after he had left. Perhaps Chichester and his marchioness didn’t talk to one another or take an interest in the other’s affairs, but the same could not be said for Jake and Olivia—nor would Jake have it any other way.

  Not under normal conditions.

  ‘Perhaps, Olivia, on second thoughts—’

  ‘Don’t fuss, Jake. I shall not swoon just because Lord Chichester’s circumstances feel so familiar.’

  ‘My dear Lady Torbay.’ Chichester’s florid face flushed. ‘Please forgive me. The similarities between my circumstances and your own had not escaped me, which is why I wished to speak to your husband alone. Whatever must you think of me?’

  ‘What I think is that you are in urgent need of my husband’s services, accounting for your distracted state.’ She treated Chichester to a smile that was far kinder that Jake considered his due. ‘Believe me,’ she added with a shudder, ‘I know exactly how it feels to be falsely accused.’

  ‘I have not been accused of anything.’ He gave a significant pause. ‘Yet.’

  ‘Details, Chichester,’ Jake said briskly. If Olivia and Chichester had decided to side against him, his only alternative was to hear his guest’s account of the murder in question and get rid of him as quickly as possible. Then he would convince Olivia that looking into this particular case would be unwise. Chichester was an influential man, well capable of paying for the best legal representation to defend his honour. Besides, all men were not equal, and it would be a brave policeman who accused a marquess of murdering an actress until he had a torrent of evidence to support his case.

  ‘The lady’s name is…was, Miss Constance Saville.’

  ‘Oh,’ Olivia said. ‘I know that name. You are probably aware that my former husband was a theatrical agent. He was anxious to represent Miss Saville but couldn’t tempt her into his fold. I saw her Lady Macbeth once and could quite understand Marcus’s frustration when she refused to decamp. She was quite superb.’

  Chichester inclined her head and the fear, the sadness—call it what you will—briefly left his eyes. ‘That she was,’ he agreed. ‘A remarkable talent and a pointless waste of a young life.’

  ‘I assume she was more to you than an accomplished actress,’ Jake said.

  Chichester harrumphed, offended by a question that he must have known Jake would ask.

  ‘I cannot be much help to you—if I decide to help you at all, that is—unless you are completely honest with me,’ Jake continued. ‘Clearly you assume that you require my help, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, so I would appreciate your candour. Olivia won’t be offended by anything you have to say, if that is what concerns you.’

  Chichester sent Olivia a considering look, then nodded. ‘Connie enjoyed my protection, I won’t deny it.’

  ‘Which is why you anticipate being accused of her murder, I would imagine.’

  ‘Precisely so.’ He cleared his throat and then downed the contents of his glass in one swallow. ‘I came up to London with my son—’

  ‘Henry is with you?’

  ‘No, no, my younger son, Riley. He has been unwell, but is due back at Eton next week.’

  ‘Ah, of course.’ Jake had forgotten that Chichester had two sons, separated by ten years and three sisters. Riley must be about fifteen, he imagined. Jake wasn’t acquainted with the younger boy, but sincerely hoped that he was less pompous than his father and elder brother. He surmised that Chichester had used his son’s enforced absence from school as an excuse to bring him up to town before taking his back to Eton himself—not for the lad’s benefit but so that Chichester could snatch a few nights of passion with his ladybird. ‘Go on,’ he said, hiding his distaste for his guest with an elegant flip of one wrist.

  ‘Connie is not your average actress,’ Chichester said, clearing his throat.

  ‘Is there such a thing?’ Jake asked, elevating one brow to express surprise at Chichester’s sweeping statement.

  ‘What I mean to imply is that she comes from a decent family who disowned her when she insisted that she wanted to tread the boards. I don’t mean that she came from a family of our standing, Torbay. Her people are respectable middle-class, but…’

  ‘We wouldn’t know them?’

  ‘Probably not. Saville is…was, Connie’s stage name. Her real name was Constance Larson. Her family have a small, very small by our standards, estate in Hertfordshire. Her father fashions himself as a gentleman farmer.’

  ‘When did she die?’ Jake asked.

  ‘Well, that’s just the thing, you see.’ Chichester scratched manically at the back of his neck, agitating the folds of flesh that rested against his neckcloth. ‘I watched her performance last night. Took young Riley with me. Her Desdemona was a masterpiece. Riley was enthralled by it and was delighted to congratulate her afterwards.’

  ‘Presumably your son then returned home and you did not.’

  Chichester sighed. ‘I spent the night with Connie and left at noon the following day.’ He looked Jake directly in the eye. ‘She was alive and well when I left her. I’d swear to the fact on a stack of bibles.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ Jake replied. ‘I am willing to accept your word for it.’

  ‘When did you learn of her death?’ Olivia asked into the ensuing silence.

  ‘Late this afternoon. I received a note from her sister, Sophia, who is the only member of her family who still has anything to do with her.’

  ‘And presumably she knows of your association with Constance,’ Jake added.

  ‘Indeed, although I have never met her. Wouldn’t be appropriate to, given the nature of my relationship with Connie. Anyway, it seems Sophia came up to London and called upon Connie. When she couldn’t get an answer she became concerned because the doorman had told her she was at home. He let her in using his master key and they both found Connie sprawled across her bed.’ Chichester swiped a hand across his eyes. ‘She’d been strangled, damn it! Excuse my language,’ he added belatedly, glancing towards Olivia.

  ‘I am so very sorry,’ Olivia said. ‘What a terrible thing to have happen.’

  ‘It gets worse,’ Chichester said.

  ‘How so?’ Jake asked, wondering what could be worse than learning that a woman who meant a great deal to him had been brutally strangled.

  ‘The doorman said something along the lines of “Gawd help us, his lordship has gone and done it this time.”’

  ‘Meaning you?’ Jake clarified.

  ‘Presumably so. He told Sophia that I had left not an hour before and no one had visited Connie since then. The police were called and I have no doubt he’s told them the same thing. You have to help me, Torbay.’ His forehead crinkled as he peered at Jake, his eyes sunken pinpricks of worry. For himself or for his loss, Jake had yet to decide. ‘The scandal alone could destroy my family. If my name finds its way into the newspapers and my wife…well, you probably think I brought this on myself but I can assure you that I had been discreet and never meant for my family to be embarrassed by my activities.’

  ‘What did the doorman mean when he said you’d done it this time?’ Jack asked, leaning
back in his chair and studying his guest over the rim of his glass. How he responded would help Jake to decide whether or not to help him. At the moment he was veering against offering his services, even though the particulars of the murder intrigued him. It was too close to home for Olivia’s comfort, even though she displayed a keen interest in the circumstances and showed no outwards signs of distress.

  Jake believed Chichester’s claim of innocence. It was clear that he was enamoured of the girl, had invented an excuse to bring his son to London in order to see her, and had no reason to kill her. Unless of course she had found another protector and intended to give Chichester up in his favour. There was no telling what a man might do when consumed with a combination of rage and jealousy.

  ‘Connie possessed a volatile character. She was given to fits of pique. I thought it was the artistic side of her nature coming to the fore and made allowances. She was truly magnificent when she threw one of her tantrums.’

  ‘You argued?’

  ‘Well yes, and what with Connie being such an accomplished actress, her voice tended to carry. She has rooms in a house in Haughton Street, close to the theatre district. The walls are thin and the doorman is impertinently determined to know the business of everyone in the dwelling. I expect he overheard our disagreements and read too much into them. Connie was a natural extrovert, but our differences never lasted for long and always resulted in passionate reconciliations.’

  ‘What did you argue about on this occasion?’ Jake asked, thinking Chichester only had himself to blame if he was too tight to establish his floozy in better quality accommodation, where it would have been possible to enjoy a modicum of privacy.

  ‘Money, mostly. Connie knew how to spend mine and had no idea of the meaning of economy.’

  ‘She knew her worth?’ Jake suggested. ‘Threatened to take up with another man if you didn’t keep her in style?’