The Wicked Truth. Lyn Stone

       Chapter Five

      Neil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. The whole ridiculous scenario was giving him a headache. “I have a horrible premonition that the first time you show yourself, everyone’s going to point and say, ‘Oh look! It’s Lady Marleigh in breeches! How utterly daring of her, and let’s call the peelers.’ This is insane. Why don’t we just hide you?”

      “Because you need me to help find the killer! I promise you no one will know me,” she said, apparently upset that he questioned the effectiveness of her disguise.

      Lindy agreed. “She’s right. We do need her to keep an eye out for this man Terry met at the theater. As for the disguise, I don’t believe I would recognize her if I met her on the street, unknowing. Look at her objectively, Neil. Unless she comes face-to-face with someone who knows her quite well, I think she should be perfectly convincing.”

      Neil paced. He wished he didn’t feel so disoriented. Seeing the woman got up like a man and playing the part so well unnerved him. “A big part of London’s male population probably does know her quite well!” he said.

      “No, they don’t,” she argued. “Father and I just came down from Edinburgh shortly before he died. We hadn’t yet accepted any invitations in town when it happened. Then there was the, hurried journey back to Kent for his burial. I was veiled at the funeral and spoke with almost no one. Cousin Colin took care of everything. I stayed secluded until—” She broke off with a distant look and swallowed hard.

      “Until?” Lindy prompted.

      “The weekend at the Smythes’ estate,” she said, forcing the words out as though they hurt her throat. “Colin encouraged me to accompany him to Lady Smythe’s for a quiet weekend. Said it would ease our grief. I didn’t want to go. Father had been laid to rest only three weeks before.”

      “But you did go,” Neil remarked with more accusatory force than he intended.

      “Yes,” she answered defiantly. “I went.”

      Lindy tapped the heel of his pipe thoughtfully and cleared his throat before speaking. “Well, there’s Lady Smythe we must avoid, I suppose. And of course, the men. What about those with whom you…”

      “Consorted is the nice word you’re looking for, Lindy,” Neil supplied. Then he turned on her. “What about the two men discovered in your room with you?” The thought of it made him want to shoot the men and to shake her for her stupidity.

      “Their mission did not include writing odes to my eyebrows. I doubt they looked once above my neck!”

      “They bloody well did a damned essay on the rest of you, though, didn’t they?”

      “Children, children!” Lindy soothed. “Let’s keep to the matter at hand.” He grasped Neil’s arm, but the new earl jerked away angrily and stalked to the window, looking out.

      Seemingly satisfied that the outburst was over, Lindy continued the questions. “Now then, Betts,” he said, indicating to both of them that he intended her to be Betts from now on, “you say you don’t think Lords Frame and Tilburn would recognize you in disguise?”

      Neil noted that she didn’t even look surprised that Lindy knew the identity of the men. Everyone knew.

      “They were thoroughly foxed that night,” she said thoughtfully. “And I had never spoken with them before.” She met Neil’s eyes as he turned, and there was no shame in hers, just renewed anger. “They were only there for a moment,” she added.

      “Damned swift, then? Must have disappointed you no end.”

      “Shut up, Neil,” Lindy barked. “Have done with your bickering or I’ll do this in private!”

      Neil stiffened with surprise. Lindy never used that tone with him. “Next you’ll have me defending her honor, I suppose!”

      “Watch your mouth, my lord, or I’ll rearrange your teeth for you, and don’t think I can’t do it. This arm can bloody well pack a punch, thanks to you. Now sit down over there and mind your manners.” The inspector jerked his head toward the bed.

      Lindy was right. Neil sat. Why was he acting such a bastard about this? What right had he to judge Elizabeth just because he was enamored of her and mad as hell about it? He almost wished Lindy had made good the threat and planted him a facer. He admitted he deserved it.

      Lindy kept at her, but at least his voice was kind. “The incident with the boat—how many saw you then?”

      “Lots, I suppose. Maybe ten or twelve people, but I was bedraggled as a drowned cat and I still…had my hair.” She fingered the short tresses just above her ear. When she saw Neil watching the gesture, she quickly pocketed her hand and lifted a defiant chin. “I don’t recall speaking to any of the guests Colin invited down. Twice I was accosted in the hallways, but it was rather dark. After that, I mostly kept to my room.”

      “Accosted?” Neil certainly wanted to follow that up.

      “Shut up!” the others said in unison, turning on him with eyebrows raised as though he’d said something out of turn. Neil held up his palms in a mute apology that he in no way meant.

      “Have you attended any public events during your stay here or kept company with anyone else?” Lindy asked, as though Neil hadn’t interrupted.

      She lowered her head and answered softly, “No. You see, we’ve never gone about much in society and have done no entertaining since my mother died. I was thirteen then. My friends, or the few I claim, are of rather modest means and live in our village.”

      “A veritable recluse,” Neil muttered sarcastically, clamping his mouth closed when Lindy shot him another warning look.

      “Well