Chapter Fourteen
The day of Lady Evelyn Lindsay’s funeral dawned cold and dreary. Sebastian stood in front of the mirror in his parlor, fretting about his appearance for the first time in longer than he could remember. He hadn’t worn this black suit in ages, not since he’d ridiculously observed a period of mourning after Marina’s death, even though she’d left him years earlier and had died giving birth to another man’s child. It seemed ill-fitting now and definitely looked like it was off-the-rack, which it was.
He straightened his tie and turned away with a mental shrug. It wasn’t as though Jocelyn would even glance his way today. She had far too much on her mind, and she’d made it abundantly clear the last time he’d seen her that she wanted no more to do with him.
In fact, he’d thought long and hard about even going today. The last thing he wanted was to upset her further on what was already going to be an incredibly difficult day.
But throughout his many years of police work, he’d learned that killers liked to see the effect of what they’d done. There was a good chance that Evelyn’s murderer would be at the graveside today, and he needed to use every bit of reasoning skill in his arsenal to figure out who it was.
When he arrived at the cemetery, he stood a bit apart from the rest, behind a huge oak tree, observing people as they arrived. His gaze immediately went to Jocelyn, who stood rigidly near the grave, a small, voluptuous figure in black. The lack of color emphasized her auburn hair even more, the tight chignon a bright splash of color against the gray sky.
She looked bereft, and he wanted nothing more than to race to her side and pull her into his arms once again. He wanted to be the port in her storm of grief, wanted to hold her and let her know that everything would be all right, that he would find who had done this to her sister and make him pay.
But he could guarantee none of those things, and she didn’t want to talk to him anyway.
Forcing down his disappointment, he studied those around her. Quinn and Allison were there, of course. He knew that with her sister gone, Allison was the one Jocelyn would turn to for support.
Blackstone and his brother, Viscount Danbury, stood on the other side of Jocelyn. Blackstone looked very uncomfortable, fiddling with his cravat as though it were strangling him and staring at the stark hole where Evelyn’s casket would be lowered. Danbury, on the other hand, who was a slimmer, less-intense version of his brother, looked as though he was perfectly at ease, occasionally touching Jocelyn’s hand and bending his head to speak to her.
Sebastian had known that the brothers had grown up with Jocelyn and Evelyn, so their presence here today made perfect sense, but something seemed off about both of them. And he did not like the way that Danbury was being so solicitous toward Jocelyn.
For her part, Jocelyn didn’t seem to like the attention she was getting from the viscount either. He saw her scoot a little closer to Allison several times, until O’Brien, who must have picked up on it as well, moved to her other side so that he and Allison made a shield around their friend.
Sebastian caught O’Brien’s gaze and nodded grimly, and his friend gave a short nod in return. No doubt his former supervisor would have some insight for him on the viscount the next time they talked.
Two of Allison’s three brothers were there. Lucien, the earl, and Morgan, one of the twins, along with their wives, Serenity and Fiona. Morgan was on Sebastian’s list also, but of the seven names, he was the least likely suspect as far as Sebastian was concerned. That pained him, since Blackstone was on the list as well.
Now that he knew that one of the Strathmores was Prometheus, perhaps he should be even more suspicious, given his original theory that The Viper and Prometheus might be one and the same, but everything that O’Brien had said in the pub the other night made sense. Why would a man who devoted himself to rescuing children from lives of prostitution take to murdering young prostitutes? The Viper had obviously donned Prometheus’s mask to throw them off his trail. He hated that it had worked, if only briefly. Besides, of the three brothers, Morgan seemed the least likely to be Prometheus.
O’Brien had said Strathmore was a kind and generous man who was devoted to his wife and children, and every interaction that Sebastian had with the man had convinced him of the same. Admittedly, he didn’t know the man well though, so he watched him closely for several minutes. However, nothing in the man’s body language or mannerisms seemed to indicate that he was there for any reason other than to support a dear friend in her time of need. He seemed far more worried about his lovely redheaded wife’s comfort, taking off his coat to wrap it around her shoulders despite her protests. Morgan and Fiona seemed very much in love, and once again, he thought how lucky in love Allison’s family seemed to be.
He took out his small notebook, making notes about the other people in attendance. He recognized a few of the servants from Jocelyn’s household—the nanny in particular seemed to be taking her mistress’s death hard—but there were a few other aristocratic sorts that he didn’t recognize. He made notes on their appearance so he could ask Quinn about them later.
Only one truly drew his interest, though. An older gentleman stood at the back of the cluster of those at the graveside, and his gaze occasionally bore into the back of Jocelyn’s head, a look of pure hatred in his eyes. Sebastian found himself bristling on Jocelyn’s behalf. Who was this gentleman, and why did he dislike Jocelyn so much?
The thought that this might be the killer, and that he might now have his eyes set on Jocelyn, sent a cold chill down his spine.
Skirting the crowd, he went to stand beside the man, reaching his side just as the minister began the ceremony. As the minister intoned the ancient words used to comfort those left behind, Sebastian tried to catalogue everything he could about the man for later reference. He stood a few inches shorter than Sebastian, and his balding gray hair must have once been blond. His crooked nose and protruding teeth made him appear ghoulish, the kind of old man who scared children.
When the ceremony finally came to an end, and those assembled were going up and throwing roses into the grave, Sebastian turned to the man, determined to find out what he knew. “Sad thing, this, isn’t it?”
The man frowned and gave a shrug. “I didn’t know the gel well.”
That really didn’t answer the question, did it? But the fact that the man’s determination of whether this was a sad affair was based on how much it had impacted him seemed telling.
“How did you know Lady Evelyn?” Sebastian asked more directly.
The man gave Sebastian a once-over, his mouth turning down at his cheap suit and calloused hands. “Not that it’s any of your business, but the girl’s sister was married to my brother.”
“I’m Inspector Ness from the Metropolitan Police,” Sebastian offered. “I’m investigating Lady Evelyn’s murder, so it rather is my business.”
“Matthew Layton.” The man gave a dramatic shudder. “The worst thing my brother ever did was marry that girl. I’m horrified that she’s brought such shame on our old, distinguished name. Her sister murdered. Her name in the papers. I intend to give her a piece of my mind.”
“It’s hardly Lady Aston’s fault that her sister was murdered,” Sebastian snapped. It hadn’t escaped him that this man’s name started with an M, though he didn’t believe he was a member of The Viper Club. He’d have to check the list again. “I’m guessing the reason that you’re really angry at Lady Aston is because her child inherited your brother’s title. You’d be sitting pretty right now if she hadn’t have had a son, wouldn’t you?”
“Well, I never!” Layton drew himself up, incensed, then whirled and stalked away.
Sebastian kept his eyes on the man until he got in his carriage and his driver drove away. If nothing else, at least Sebastian was glad that he’d saved Jocelyn from having to deal with that man today.