“Pleasant, congenial, excited to see what he could do with the title.” The older woman twisted the handkerchief in her fingers. “He was looking forward to this session of Parliament, for he had an idea he wished to put forth into the House of Lords.”
Fanny’s eyes misted with tears. This loss, on the heels of all the others as well as the fact that she’d known him peripherally, brought home exactly how dangerous London was and how desperately men like William were needed. “He sounded like a lovely man. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to know him further.”
Lady Georgianna nodded. “Thank you. Though my brother and I aggravated each other at times, I will miss him tremendously. He had the funniest laugh and always liked to tell jokes when we were all feeling down.”
“Yes,” the dowager said with a fleeting smile. “It was he who lifted our spirits after my husband passed.”
Softly, William cleared his throat. There was an urgency about him, as if he wished to be elsewhere, but also deep sadness pooled in his eyes along with abject desolation. Perhaps his position had taken too great a toll on him today. Her heart went out to him. He would let nothing stop him from solving a case, even to the deterioration of his own mental stability. “Was His Lordship ever enamored of a woman socially? Did he bring a lady home for you to meet?”
The two women exchanged a glance then the mother nodded. “Once. Not long ago. I don’t remember her surname, for I’d thought my son not completely taken with her, but she had magnificent red hair.”
“If I may ask, what is her name? I’ll need to question her.”
“Ah, Miriam? I’m afraid her surname has slipped my mind, for I thought she was another passing fancy and didn’t wish to commit her to memory.”
“That’s understandable, Lady Coxhill.” William looked in Fanny’s direction with questions in his expression. “Given your belief of the relationship, did your son seem serious about her? Is that why he brought her to meet you?”
The dowager shrugged. “I think it could have been, but as I said, I had my doubts. As did others.”
“Oh? Why do you say that?” Fanny asked, more interested in the lives of these people than she cared to admit.
It was Lady Georgianna who answered. “His best friend, Lord Wainwright, dropped by yesterday and warned my brother away.”
Fanny frowned. “Why would he do such a thing?”
The younger woman pleated a section of skirting with her fingers. “The viscount said something about Miriam not being completely right in the head.”
William moved closer to Fanny’s chair. “Was there a reason for the warning?”
“Obviously, there must have been, but neither of them shared it with me,” Lady Georgianna said quietly. “When I came into the room, they both stopped talking and then took their leave.”
“Did your brother have any enemies? Was there anyone holding jealousy against him?”
She slowly shook her head. “Not that I’m aware of. He was readily liked by everyone, and he only wished to make his way in society as a newly titled earl.” Her voice broke. “And now he’ll never be given the chance to do anything.” Tears fell to her cheeks.
While the dowager moved to the sofa and slipped her arms around her daughter, Fanny couldn’t hold back her own tears. “Again, we’re so sorry for your loss,” she murmured and dug through her reticle for the handkerchief William had given her earlier.
In that one moment, seeing the pain and grief on the faces of a victim’s family, her mind cleared. She wanted to use her journalism opportunity to help not harm, and she most certainly refused to write nonsense that bordered on gossip. She wished to do good, put out positive pieces into the world that gave people hope and brought comfort.
“If Inspector Storme has no more questions, we’ll show ourselves out.” As she rose to her feet, she met his gaze, couldn’t wait to share her epiphany with him.
“I’m quite finished. Thank you, ladies, for your time. Should you think of anything else relevant, please summon me from Whitehall.” Discreetly, he left a calling card on a small rose-inlaid table and then looked at Fanny, who nodded.
Back in the carriage and throughout the short drive through Mayfair to her townhouse, William wasn’t inclined to talk. Neither was she, and she missed his comforting presence, for he’d elected to sit on the bench across from her.
Fanny stifled a sigh when the vehicle rocked to a halt in front of her residence. “Please come in for tea. I… I would like for you to meet my parents.” It was a large, telling step, and they both knew it.
He nodded, but there was no light of interest in his eyes, nor did he give her that wickedly charming smile he reserved only for her. “I appreciate that. Thank you. Tea is much needed.”
Yet when they entered the house, the butler promptly informed her that her parents were out visiting. “Thank you, Bentley. Please bring tea to the drawing room. Inspector Storme looks ready to drop.” She removed her pelisse, gloves, and bonnet, handing them over to a waiting footman. When she glanced at William, he stuffed his gloves into a pocket of his greatcoat and then gave over his outerwear and top hat.
“Very well, my lady,” the ancient butler said in tones more suited to a tomb than a Mayfair townhouse.
Belatedly, she remembered the reason for her parents’ absence, which she explained to William as they walked along the corridor and then up the stairs. “I apologize. I’d forgotten. Papa recently inherited a small fortune from a distant cousin who died. He’d never met the man. I knew Papa had plans to meet with his solicitor and then call upon the cousin’s family for tea. It slipped my mind due to everything else.”
“It’s quite understandable. I should go—”
“No, I won’t hear of it. You’ve taken this most recent loss hard, and I want to help.” She led him into the drawing room. Immediately she appreciated the touches of blues and greens in the room that invited calm. “I doubt Papa and Mama will return before dinner, so please enjoy the respite here.”