No, the woman who did this is both unharmed and unrepentant. He had considered Minerva Hepplewhite long into the night, wrestling with the way she both annoyed him and . . . fascinated him. If he was correct about his uncle’s death, however, she remained the most likely culprit. Not only her sudden good fortune said as much, but also the very self-possession that impressed him. She was not one to be underestimated.
“It is a small wound—it looks worse than it is.”
“Walk with me,” Peel said.
They fell into step together and began slowly retracing Chase’s path.
“It is my hope that you can solve a conundrum for me,” Peel said. “It has to do with your uncle’s death.”
Peel had been among the many at the funeral. As had Peel’s father, with whom the late duke had some business dealings.
“Had things progressed as they usually do, if his heir received everything, everyone would say what a shame he fell, and that would be that,” Peel said. “That will of his has got tongues wagging, I’m afraid. So much money, and yet so little to the family.”
“That is common knowledge already, is it?”
“Your aunts and a few cousins have not been quiet about their disappointment.”
“It was his personal fortune, to bequeath as he chose.”
“Of course. Of course. And yet, so many angry relatives. Ambiguous circumstances. Mystery legatees. It begs explanation.”
The mystery legatees certainly did. Three names. Three women. No one in the family had ever heard of any of them, and Chase had only tracked down one in the past week. In the fury that greeted the reading of the will, a variety of characterizations of these women had been cast down by family members, none of them flattering.
What were these women to Uncle Frederick? Minerva claimed she was not a mistress; perhaps the others weren’t either. They may have never met the duke, just as she said she had not. They could be dead, for all anyone knew. Some relatives rather counted on that.
Would Uncle Frederick be so eccentric, so perverse, as to give a sizeable portion of his personal estate to three women he had nothing to do with? Chase did not reject the notion out of hand, but if that had happened, how had his uncle come up with these particular women?
“If you say it all begs explanation, I am not going to disagree with you.”
“It is not I who says so. My inclination is to leave it all be. The king, however, says so. The prime minister agrees. Other ministers and several other dukes have called on me. My own father, heaven preserve us—I have been getting many earfuls all week. ‘No way in hell he fell.’ That sort of thing.”
They continued their slow stroll out onto the street.
“I assume you went up there and took a look at that walkway and parapet. What is your view of things?”
No way in hell he fell. “I have not investigated sufficiently to have a view. I assumed if anyone pursued the matter, it would be your office.”
“Ah, yes. Yet to do so would only feed the storm. It would be very public. Everyone would know that suspicions existed. It would be a scandal for your whole family, no matter what was learned. Hence the conundrum.”
“Surely you have someone who can be discreet.”
“It is sure to get out if we launch an official inquiry. Nor are the best agents at my disposal known for being delicate. The insult to your family will be sharp. The destruction of their privacy unthinkable.” Peel stopped walking and faced him. “You have experience in such things, I believe. From your time in the army, and now in society. You are a man to contact if one needs discreet inquiries, I’ve been told.”
“If you are suggesting that I conduct this investigation for you, let me point out that I am hardly disinterested.”
“I am counting on your being most interested. He was like a father to you. You were a favored nephew. I’m sure you want to know what happened. In fact, I assume you intended to conduct an inquiry of your own, no matter what we did.”
Hell, yes, he planned to find out what happened. That was different from acting as an agent of the Home Office, however. “My position will compromise whatever report I give.”
“You mean that if the information points to someone close to you, or to a conclusion that casts aspersions on your uncle’s good name, you will be tempted to turn a blind eye, or handle it the way gentlemen often do.” Peel vaguely smiled. “Well, yes.”
Did you kill him? That knowing smile made the question echo quietly in his head.
“However, your integrity in the matter will never be questioned,” Peel continued. “You are known as a man of character even if your methods are at times unconventional.”
Peel had been talking to people, that was clear. He probably had received more information than Chase wanted to think about. “No matter what I find, there will be those who will think the worst.”
“Let us not worry about all the those. My only concern is with very specific people who want this laid to rest. You would not be in our employ, of course. You would not be one of our agents. Your report would be to me alone, and would be private. I in turn can then respond to those specific people, privately.”
“What if action less private is required? We are talking about a possible murder.” Using the word bluntly sounded stark within all this polite chatting.
Peel gave him a quick, deep scrutiny. “If you conclude justice requires formal and official action, it will have to be taken.” They began walking back to the passage.
“Can I start my day knowing this has been settled?” Peel asked. “I would like to send a few notes indicating an unofficial inquiry is underway.”
Chase weighed the offer. Peel had shifted the conundrum onto him. Yet he had fully intended to use his skills to determine just what had happened up on that roof. If he accepted this private mission, at least there would not be some Home Office agent getting in his way. On the other hand, even in an unofficial capacity, his option to turn that blind eye would be seriously compromised. Finding the truth would become a matter of duty, not just one of personal curiosity.
Perhaps that would be for the best.
“You can write your notes to the king and prime minister. I will do the inquiry and see it through to wherever it ends.”
Chapter Two
Two mornings after hitting Chase Radnor on the head, Minerva poured coffee into three cups sitting on the worn wooden table in the kitchen. Beth spooned porridge into bowls, then laid down a loaf of bread along with butter and some cheese. Jeremy, ever polite in his table manners, waited for both of them to sit with him beneath the ceiling beams in the warm chamber. Then he ate with the appetite of the young man he was.
Minerva still saw the boy Jeremy had recently been when she looked at him. She at times had to remind herself that he was one and twenty now.
She broke some bread and spooned at her own porridge and watched him devour the cheese. He was probably still growing. She remembered when he was a lanky blond youth of fifteen. Now he was a lanky blond man, filling out but still thin by nature. His hair hung long because he said his mother always made him look like a serf when she cut it.
He finally slowed down enough to talk. “You should have called me, that’s all I’m saying.”
He picked up a conversation from yesterday, when he had learned about Mr. Radnor’s unusual appearance.