The Mayfair Affair by Tracy Grant Page A

myself. With good cause, I admit. I know Hetty better."
    "Hetty?"
    "Henrietta. Lady Tarrington. That is now the Duchess of Trenchard. James's wife."
    "Don't tell me." Suzanne was now accustomed to the interconnectedness of the beau monde, though Cordy and Malcolm in particular seemed to have grown up at the heart of it. "You grew up with the new duchess as well."
    "No. That is, not the way I did with Caro Lamb. I'm afraid I didn't pay much attention to Hetty. Rather a mousy thing, or so I thought, and I was shockingly heedless. But she was kind to me after the scandal when Harry went abroad and my marriage fell apart. She made a point of stopping to speak with me in Hyde Park when Uncle Archie insisted I go driving with him. Another example of how prim doesn't necessarily mean judgmental. She was married to her first husband then. He was a soldier who died in India not long after."
    "And Lord Tarrington? The new duke?"
    "He was kind as well. Which also surprised me. James was quite a catch and still on the marriage mart when I came out. Undeniably handsome, but I fear I wrote him off as stodgy. A good man, if not particularly exciting. Unlike his brother on both counts."
    Suzanne met her friend's gaze. She was used now to Cordelia's past.
    Cordelia gave a wry smile of acknowledgment. "No, Jack Trenchard was never more to me than a waltzing partner. Though he was reckless and foolish enough to be what might have been called my type." She picked up her cup and tossed down a swallow of tea. "Would you like me to call on Hetty with you?"
    "Please. You have a knack for getting people to talk."
    "If so, I learned it from you." Cordelia reached for her reticule and gloves. "Calling on Hetty and James should be safe enough. I'm very glad you have an investigation again, Suzanne, but I sincerely hope we can get through the entire process without encountering any of my ex-lovers."

    "Rannoch." James Fitzwalter, Marquis of Tarrington, now Duke of Trenchard, crossed his late father's study with quick, firm steps, hand extended. "Mary said you were looking into this. Father's death. It's good of you."
    "I'm so sorry." Malcolm shook the new duke's hand. "I know what it is to lose a father. Alistair and I were far from close, but regardless, it isn't easy."
    "My father was—a complicated man." James ran a hand over his hair. "I can't believe he's gone. One knows one will lose one's parents, of course, but I never expected it to happen so soon. Or in such a way." He cast a glance round the room, as though forcing himself to look at the still-bloodstained carpet. "Mary said you and Roth had already looked at the study. I felt I should go through his papers right away. After all—"
    "It's your responsibility now." Malcolm remembered the realization that Dunmykel, in Scotland, with its land and tenants; the Berkeley Square house; the villa in Italy, were now his. Though it was nothing compared to the weight of a dukedom.
    "Yes." James gave a mechanical nod. "Fortunately, Father's papers appear to be in good order."
    "James—" Malcolm touched his arm. "You needn't do this immediately. If you want to wait until the room is—"
    "No." James's voice cut with sudden force. "I need to. If I don't—"
    In the other man's gaze, Malcolm saw his own desperation following Alistair's death. He nodded. "Quite."
    James's gaze flickered over Malcolm. "Mary says you don't think this Miss Dudley killed Father."
    "I think it's a good possibility she didn't."
    "So someone else broke into the house through the secret passage?"
    "That's one possibility."
    James stared at Malcolm with glazed eyes. James had arrived at Trenchard House an hour since, apparently, and still had the look of one adjusting to the shocking change in circumstances. "You think he was killed by someone in the house?"
    "We have to consider the possibility."
    "God in heaven— " James swallowed. "No, I know you have to ask questions. We're fortunate to have you asking them instead of some Bow