Eventually, Regina raised her gaze to his face. “There will be others, won’t there?”
“I think we can be certain of that,” he replied.
Regina glanced at Rosalind, then looked back at him. Her delicate chin firmed, and she nodded. “All right. But”—she glanced at Rosalind and then him—“you will come with me, won’t you?”
“We’ll come with you now.” Richard waited as Regina drew in a fortifying breath, and the sisters rose. Rosalind linked her arm with Regina’s—a subtle show of solidarity—and hiding an appreciative smile, Richard escorted them into the house.
They found Gearing in the front hall. Luckily, no one else was around.
“Where are the investigators, Gearing?” Richard asked.
Gearing nodded toward the closed library doors and the footman standing outside them. “They’re in the library and, I gather, preparing to commence their interviews with the guests.”
“Excellent. Thank you, Gearing.” Richard glanced at Rosalind and Regina. “That will suit our purpose well.” He ushered the sisters toward the library. “We’ll just go in and have a word.”
Penelope sat behind the ornate library desk with Barnaby in a chair by her elbow. She’d just completed their list of interviewees when a sharp rap fell on the library door.
The investigators exchanged glances, then Barnaby called, “Come.”
To Penelope’s surprise, it was Richard who opened the door and ushered Rosalind and Regina Hemmings into the room.
Curious, Penelope rose, as did Barnaby and Stokes.
Richard closed the door, then, herding the ladies before him, stated, “Miss Hemmings has information you need to know.”
Penelope looked at the sisters. Rosalind looked resolute, but solicitous of her younger sister, while Regina looked overwhelmed and increasingly nervous.
“Thank you for coming to see us.” Stokes inclined his head to the pair. “We’ll be grateful for any light you can shed on the situation.”
Penelope bustled out from behind the desk and joined Barnaby and Stokes in being as encouraging as they could while they added two chairs to their conversational grouping and guided the sisters and Richard into the seats.
Once everyone settled, Rosalind looked at Regina and gently prompted, “It would be best if you start at the beginning. When the blackmailer first contacted you.”
Instantly, Penelope fastened her gaze on Regina, as did Stokes and Barnaby. Not by a flicker of an eyelash did they reveal they already knew that Regina had been blackmailed.
Under their scrutiny, Regina colored painfully.
Penelope caught the girl’s eye and, with patent sympathy and sincerity, assured her, “I promise we won’t bite.”
The unexpected comment made Regina’s lips fleetingly lift. Then, she drew in a breath, gripped her fingers tightly in her lap, and tipped up her chin. “It started early last summer, with a note delivered to the back door of our London house. A few weeks before, I’d visited with Mama and Rosalind at Wyndham Castle, and while there…” She drew in a shallow breath and blurted, “I let a footman kiss me. On the back stairs. Just once.” She ducked her head, and her fingers twisted in her lap. “I know it was wrong—and silly! But I just…wanted to know. To see.”
Rosalind reached across and bracingly gripped her sister’s twisting fingers. “We all know what that’s like. It truly wasn’t any great thing.”
Regina’s head came up. “But that was just it. He—the blackmailer—said it would be.” She focused on Penelope. “He knew what had happened—he made that clear in what he wrote—but he said he would make out it was so much worse. That if I didn’t pay him, he would make the moment into somethingutterly tawdry. He said that if my sordid act became public knowledge, I would be banished from society. And he pointed out how that would affect the whole family’s standing”—she glanced at Rosalind—“and dim Rosalind’s prospects as well.”
Reassuringly, Penelope said, “He was exploiting your innocence. For the record, Rosalind is correct—what you did was no terrible thing. A slap on the wrist from your mother and perhaps a few disapproving frowns from the starchiest matrons, but truly, as ton scandals go, that wouldn’t even rate.”
“Oh.” Regina sat up. Clearly, she found Penelope’s assessment far more bolstering than her sister’s.
Barnaby gently asked, “What did the blackmailer want of you?”
“He first asked for money, but it was just ten pounds, and I had that put by.” Regina was growing more comfortable and confident. “He told me to leave the money in a particular urn on Lady Selbridge’s side terrace during her ball two nights later.”
“So he—the blackmailer—knew you would be attending that ball.” Stokes shot a glance at Penelope.
Regina frowned. “He must have, mustn’t he?” After a moment, she went on, “I put the money in the urn early in the evening, just after we arrived. It was a fine night, and guests were out on the terrace more or less constantly. Obviously, I couldn’t stand and watch to see who came to fetch the money. Before we left the ball, I peeked in the urn, and the money was still there. I had to leave it, but I didn’t hear from the blackmailer the next day, so I assume he took it later.”
“When did you get his next demand?” Stokes asked. “And how did you receive it?”
