He did that, sat, then shook his head.
‘Then how did Adrien find the body?’ I wondered.
Garrick studied the desk for a moment, then stood and leaned across the wide surface to take a pen from the rack that was placed half way. ‘Now I can see one leg and James’s backside,’ he reported.
‘That fits with the way the chairs were when we saw the body,’ I told him as he went to retrieve his hat. ‘Adrien had pulled his usual seat up to the desk and the other was pushed aside, probably as he hurried around to the far side after glimpsing his cousin.’
James uncurled himself and stood up. ‘Assuming that Alexander is a well-behaved type and didn’t got nosing about, then his story of not seeing the body holds up.’
‘He seems scrupulous, judging by his attitude to his nephew,’ I said. ‘This doesn’t clear him, of course, but it does make his story more plausible.’
‘One thing to cross off our list,’ Garrick said as we let ourselves out of the front door.
Kit Lyle was strolling down from the direction of York Street, so presumably he had finished driving the shopkeepers of Mayfair to distraction. James went to meet him as a hackney carriage drew up and Carola got out. That disposed of Garrick, who immediately turned from a tough, unflappable, henchman into an anxious, doting father-to-be.
I left them all, went in to make a note on the evidence boards and then tried to find Luc who I eventually tracked down in his dressing room in animated discussion with Sinclair, his young and keen-as-mustard valet. He was also a tactful type who managed not to appear at all surprised, let alone shocked, to find an unmarried female guest of the Countess in the Earl’s room. On second thoughts, he probably knew exactly what was going on and was merely the possessor of a straight face.
‘Some support!’ Luc greeted my arrival with relief. ‘Please tell Sinclair that I will not suit a pink waistcoat. I don’t know what came over me to buy it.’
I squinted at the garment in question. ‘I wouldn’t call that pink. More salmon. I like the dark blue embroidery at the edge – very restrained.’ I held out my hand, took the garment from Sinclair and held it up against Luc, who flinched. ‘That really suits you. It would look superb with dark blue superfine.’
‘Just what I was saying to his lordship, Miss Lawrence.’ Sinclair directed a beaming smile at me. ‘If your lordship would just slip it on with the coat of your new suit…’ He produced it, helped Luc into it and stepped back.
Luc glared at his own reflection in the long glass. ‘I suppose it is not too offensive.’
To our credit neither Sinclair nor I smirked. The valet eased the coat from Luc’s shoulders, then took the waistcoat.
‘Thank you, Sinclair. I will keep it. That will be all.’
‘My lord.’ He dealt with the garments and effaced himself, leaving Luc in his shirtsleeves.
‘Turn around.’
‘Why?’ But he did as I asked.
‘Because I am admiring your very superior rear view without your coat tails interfering,’ I admitted.
Luc glanced at the clock. ‘You could admire it without any clothing at all, should that please you. There’s an hour before we must change for dinner.’
I did my best to look nonchalant. ‘I had thought of washing my hair…’
* * *
We arrived downstairs somewhat after the dinner gong had sounded, but not as late as James and Kit. They excused their tardiness by explaining that it was necessary to examine in detail every one of the items that had been delivered following Kit’s shopping trip. I winked at James, he grinned back.
‘Shall we go to the theatre this evening?’ Luc asked. ‘I have no idea what is on, but the box is sitting there empty – it might make a change from murder and inquests.’
So we all went to the theatre – Lady Radcliffe and the Garricks as well. I have no idea what the farce was about, because we arrived in the middle of it. The play that followed was fairly dire, although Luc assured me, straight-faced, that the opera dancers who kept appearing for no very good reason and showing a great deal of leg, were excellent.
I was glad we went, though, because following the inquest we found ourselves in a dusty, old-fashioned manor house in deepest Buckinghamshire with very little in the way of entertainment, other than a murder to investigate.
* * *
The inquest was held at The Moon and Sixpence, an inn squeezed into one of the alleyways off Pall Mall. It had what was grandly referred to as the Assembly Room, which was, in fact, a long attic that was doubtless home to assorted gatherings of variable legality, from card schools, through the occasional cock fight to the local debating society and glee singers.
The Coroner, it turned out, was called Doctor Partridge. An inappropriate name, I thought, for a skinny man with none of the cheerful plumpness of the bird. He called the room to order and enquired austerely if the jury had viewed the body.
Their spokesman, who had the appearance of a prosperous butcher, agreed cheerfully that they had and they all sat there looking as though they were anticipating a thoroughly entertaining morning. I was becoming quite an expert on inquest juries and thought this was the most cheerful one I had seen. Certainly no one seemed to have been upset at the sight of a corpse.