Death on the Sapphire: A Lady Frances Ffolkes Mystery by R. J. Koreto

and his smile seemed artificial. How odd , thought Frances. No man had better manners than Charles .
    “Allow me,” he finally said, introducing his wife and sister to Lord Gareth Blaine in a toneless voice. “You’re something in the Home Office, right, Blaine?”
    “Yes—something,” said Blaine with a grin. “A pleasure to meet both of you.”
    The Home Office. It was the ministry that had overall authority over policing functions and security of the realm. Her decision to attend this party was already paying off.
    “I imagine your work must be very interesting,” said Frances.
    “My sister would like to be a police inspector,” said Charles.
    Blaine laughed. “If it were in my power to do so, I would appoint you today. Unfortunately, supervision of Scotland Yard is not in my remit. But your name is familiar to me—tell me, Lady Frances, do you know my cousin, Genevieve Ballentine?”
    “Of course. She is a very active member of the women’s suffrage committee.”
    Mary grinned, and Charles rolled his eyes.
    “I imagine you don’t share your cousin’s views,” said Frances with a hint of challenge in her voice.
    Charles interrupted at that point, saying he would happily leave them to their political discussion, and he wanted to introduce Mary to some people from the Exchequer. Mary gave Frances a quick wink as she left with her husband.
    “If I may say, you imagine a lot,” Lord Gareth said when they were alone. “But regarding my politics, you imagine wrong. Please ask Genevieve about me, and you will find I am one of the few members of our family talking to her. Because of her stance, her mother is beyond furious. But I still visit with her. Indeed, I have great sympathy for your cause, and I support universal suffrage.”
    “Do you really, Lord Gareth?” So many men said so just to make fun of her. Others tended to hedge so as not to offend her. It was rare to find an outspoken supporter like Lord Gareth.
    “Again, Genevieve will happily confirm my views.”
    “May I ask what convinced you?”
    “I like to think I am well read. Certain philosophical writings . . .” And that led to a discussion of favorite authors and favorite philosophers. Lord Gareth had taken a degree at Cambridge, and Frances lost no opportunity in telling him about her unusual education in America. Lord Gareth was curious and asked many questions. The conversation was a challenge—and although Frances worked at it, she had a sense Lord Gareth had to work at it too.
    “So tell me, do you really want to be a police inspector?”
    “I think I’d be very good at it. Are you sure you don’t have anything to do with the police at the Home Office?” she said with a smile.
    “My dear lady, if it were up to me, to please you, I’d appoint you commissioner. But my work is so dull, I can’t tell you about it, as it would spoil your good opinion of me.”
    “Isn’t it rather arrogant of you to assume you already have my good opinion?” But her tone was mocking, not serious.
    He mimicked her. “I’d be very wounded if I did not.”
    Frances eyed him. “But I don’t think you have my brother’s good opinion.”
    “So you noticed,” he said dryly. “My politics and beliefs sometimes upset even my progressive colleagues among the Liberals. And as a second son, I don’t have expectations of becoming a duke like my father and influencing the world that way. But don’t think the feeling is mutual between me and your brother. I admire your brother as a man of principle and intelligence, even if we disagree sometimes.”
    Blaine then waved his hand as if to clear the air. “As entertaining as this has been, I’m in danger of monopolizing your evening and causing a dreadful scandal. But I wonder . . . are you familiar with Lord and Lady Heathcote?”
    Even people who didn’t know the Heathcotes—and their circle of intimates—knew of them. They held fashionable parties where the liveliest members of Society