An Affair with Mr. Kennedy by Jillian Stone Page B

to wheedle something resembling a lucid story from her.
    She had been sent upstairs to turn down the beds. “I heard two people enter the room.” The girl stuttered. “Gentlemen, by their voices. I was about to excuse myself when I heard a bit of a tussle. Several punches were thrown, then a gasp and a gurgling noise. Gave me a chill it did, so I peeked around the dressing room door. A man stood with his back to me. His hand gripped a silver blade—dripping red. The other gent was on his knees …”The girl shivered, but her misty gaze never wavered. “Covered in blood he was, his throat cut, ear to ear. The poor bloke tipped to one side and over he went onto the rug.” A tear dribbled down her cheek. “For the life of me all I could think was … we’ll have to pitch the beautiful carpet.” She finally broke down and sobbed. “Was it evil of me to think such a wicked, silly thought?”
    The weeping maid sat on a bench at the foot of the four-poster. “People often think nonsensical things when frightened.” Zeno bent down to reach her eye level. “Did you happen to get a look at the man with the knife?”
    “He took out a pocket square and wrapped up the dagger.” She paused for moment then shook her head. “Never got a good look, sir. I was scared—crept back into the corner you found me in.”
    Zeno straightened with a sigh. “Did you hear anything else?”
    “The door opened and closed—at least twice. There were heavy footsteps. Men speaking in low voices.” The girl looked up at him. Liquid eyes searched his face. “I’m sorry, sir.”
    “Don’t be sorry. What’s your name?”
    “Maggie Rose.”
    “Hiding in the dressing room likely saved your life, Miss Rose.” Zeno mulled over the threads of information gleaned from the servant girl and made several mental notes. After a second perusal of the bedchamber, he excused himself and returned to the ballroom with Inspector Pate.
    Things appeared well in hand as guests were systematically interrogated and released by the officers on site. The names of everyone in attendance were taken, just in case the Yard had further questions later on. Little did the Stanfields realize how fortunate they were to have William Pate on the scene.
    Pate turned to Zeno with a look of sympathy. “Christ, Zak. You can’t get a night out without being put to work.” He slapped him on the back affectionately.
    “Have you called a photographer?”
    The inspector grunted. “It will take a while. Can’t use any of the newsboys.”
    “Before I debrief your men, I must first escort Lady Rosslyn home.” Zeno nodded to Cassie, who stood beside Lady Stanfield.
    “You’re with her?” Pate raised an appreciative eyebrow. “How is it Special Branch men get all the pretty women?”
    Zeno tugged a side of his mouth upward. “I think your wife and three lovely daughters would take issue with that statement.”
    Cassie excused herself and crossed the grand foyer. He particularly enjoyed the subtle swing of her hips, and the way her bosom quivered ever so slightly with each step. He cuffed himself mentally for such prurient thoughts. “Cassandra St. Cloud, Lady Rosslyn, may I present Inspector Pate, from the Criminal Investigation Department?”
    Cassie acknowledged the detective’s bow with a gracious smile, mixed with a kind of electrified nervousness. The effect was distracting, to put it mildly.
    “Inspector.” She nodded to Zeno and back again. “Are there any suspects as yet?
    “Little hope on the horizon, Lady Rosslyn, but it is early in the game.”
    “Indeed,” Cassie replied. “I’d say it is very early—past three in the morning.”
    Zeno stepped closer. “I am to make a break shortly and will see you home.”
    “Oh, Mr. Kennedy!” A frightful, high-pitched cry emanated from the stairwell behind them. Zeno cringed at the sight of the matronly woman and her two young charges. Overwrought and frightened by the lurid, dangerous events of the evening,