She knew he understood those words better than anyone at all.
The knock came at Georgina’s bedchamber door not an hour after she had returned home. The town house had been empty upon her return, save for the servants, and Nellie had explained that Agnes was staying with the Gilchrists, and the newlyweds, Mr. and Mrs. Lutwidge, were strolling at Hyde Park.
Mamma never did such things with Papa.
Only balls and soirees and other important social events had garnered her interest. Not quiet, romantic walks in the park. Certainly not sitting by the hearth, curled on Papa’s lap, as he would have wanted.
“Who is it?” Georgina folded the last morning dress back into the bottom drawer of her clothes press.
The door opened without further invite. Mamma swept in, hair a little windblown and cheeks rosy from exertion. “There you are at last. You know, of course, I have rarely been displeased with you—besides the time you spilled tea on my invitation to the 1798 exhibition ball at Assembly Hall. Do you remember that catastrophe? I should say you wouldn’t. You were only three.”
“I was attending a house party.” Georgina cut to the heart of Mamma’s ramblings. “At Hollyvale. You could not expect me to forgo such a party to stay here, could you?”
“What a calculating girl you are.” Mamma sank on the edge of the bed and wiped her sweaty face. “See, I am not displeased with you even now. I came in here with every intent of being ill to you, and now you have made me entirely proud of you. Of course you could not sacrifice such a party. The Oswalds are as wealthy as they are gracious. I do not suppose Alexander himself has exhibited much hints of matrimony, has he? He is bound to marry sometime, you know, and it might as well be to you.”
“Mamma.”
“Well, who else more worthy for such a rich man?”
“That is not why I attended.”
“Oh?”
Georgina pushed the drawer shut, perhaps with too much vigor. She winced and joined her mother on the bed. “In truth, Mamma, I was not certain I could remain in this house.”
“How silly of you. Whyever not?”
“The news of you and…and Mr. Lutwidge has been rather of a shock.” She glanced at Mamma’s face and wished—if only for a moment—Mamma could see the real her and understand.
But she only smiled, patted Georgina’s knee, and stood from the bed.
“House parties are always the cure for any trouble. But now that you are back, I am certain all is well, and the sooner you become acquainted with your new papa, the happier all of us shall be. I have wonderful aspirations for our new little family.” She walked to the door. “Now, I must hurry along and freshen up for dinner. Pray, my dear, do not be late. Byron hates tardiness.”
He must have hated Papa too.
Enough to kill him.
Something was not right.
Simon lowered into a holland-covered chair in the drawing room, the absence of Mother’s treasures lending the room a foreign aura. All the furniture had been draped in white. The windows were drawn. The marble bust sculpture of Marcus Aurelius was missing from the stand in the corner, and the three botanical vases were devoid of flowers.
Mercy poked her head out from beneath one of the covers. “Papa, me hide and you find me.”
He nodded before his mind comprehended what she asked.
Too late.
She darted back under the chair, hidden beneath the white cover, giggling as she crawled to a new hiding spot.
Simon stood and tried, for her sake, not to take notice of where she hid. But he still glanced at all the windows. Then the door. Then the windows again.
Nothing.
Which made no sense.
Alexander Oswald knew what Simon had discovered. He knew Simon had every intention of proving his guilt. He also knew that the servants here at Sowerby House had been released from their employment and that only Simon, Mr. Wilkins, and the children remained.
Mr. Oswald should have tried something.
