Page 52 of Honor Unbound

Chapter Twenty

Marie

The game ofloo had dwindled to just Ernest, Jane, Mr. Burton, and Marie. Lady Mary had joined them at the table when the last of the other servants had gone up to bed to watch them play.

“And you’re certain no hackney driver picked up or dropped off anyone near the Trent residence that Friday night?” Lady Mary scratched behind Southey’s ear.

Ernest played a trump eight. “None that I’ve spoken to. But it will take a while to talk to every hackney in London. I’ll keep asking around.”

Marie shook her head. Burton had more trump cards than Ernest and was sure to win the pot if the driver kept playing as he did. The idea of Burton winning didn’t bother her as it once might have except it meant that she would be losing.

“Thank you, Ernest.” Lady Mary turned to Burton. “And you still don’t think Miss Rogerson is our culprit? I understand crazed people, even women, can have preternatural strength.”

“She would have to in order to overcome Mr. Trent. Unless he was heavy in his cups.” Burton laid down a trump nine, earning a groan from Jane and Ernest. “I also don’t think Miss Rogerson has the instincts of a killer. Words I think would be her weapon.”

Jane rose. “Well, that’s it for me. I’ve lost all my petty cash for the week.”

“Besides, you’ll need to be up in a few hours to greet the milkman,” Lady Mary said.

Jane scowled. “Don’t be taking that tone with me. Just remember who knows all your secrets.”

Lady Mary grinned into her teacup.

Ernest stood. “It’s to bed with me, as well. I’ll see you all on the morn. Lady Mary,” he nodded and followed Jane from the kitchen.

Marie gathered up her winnings. Burton had a pile of them too, but hers was larger, she noted. Her feet tapped out a victory dance.

Lady Mary sighed. “The problem is we have too many ifs.IfTrent was intoxicated, a woman could have killed him.IfMiss Rogerson or Mrs. Trent worked with a man, the murder could have easily been accomplished. And then there is the infernally nagging question, why did Trent want to see me? What could that have to do with his death? I don’t know anyone in his circle.”

“If Miss Rogerson is so charming, perhaps Mr. Trent merely opened his arms and let her stab him.” Marie gathered the cards together in a pile.

Burton swore under his breath. “I didn’t say I found her charming, only that I could understand how others might.”

That distinction didn’t impress Marie.

“Come on, Southey.” Lady Mary rose and stretched her back. “It’s past your bedtime, as well. I learned the name of Trent’s attorney for the lawsuit. I’m going to try to track him down tomorrow. I’ll need my rest if I’m to talk with a barrister. Good night.”

Marie waited until the older woman had left the kitchen. “Will you be going back to The Red Chemise tomorrow? I’m sure you must have ever so many more questions for Miss Rogerson.”

“Marie. Miss Murphy,” he corrected. “You have the wrong idea.”

“So we’re back to Miss Murphy now, are we?” She shuffled the cards, her fingers needing the activity.

“Marie.” Burton planted his elbows on the table and leaned toward her. “You know Lady Mary asked me to go speak to Miss Rogerson. It would not have been my choice. Though I can’t say I’m upset knowing it made you jealous.” The edges of his lips curled upward.

“Jealous?”Shuffle, shuffle.“Me? You value yourself quite ’ighly, don’t you?”

His grin widened. “I also like that you start dropping yourh’s when you get flustered. It’s quite endearing.”

She concentrated on shuffling the cards. Flustered? Hah. Yes, his presence agitated her a bit, but that was merely because he was irritating. She was hardly flustered.

He pulled something from his pocket and placed it on the table. “I noticed your cards were showing their age a bit. I got you these.” He pushed a rectangular tin toward her using his index finger.

“A new deck?” She pulled it close, her lungs squeezing. It was a small thing. Just a deck of cards. But she couldn’t remember the last time anyone had given her a present when it wasn’t her birthday or Boxing Day. She opened the tin and pulled out the cards, bringing them to her nose. They even smelled fresh. “Thank you.”

Burton leaned closer. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You just did.” The cards were stiff so she gave them a couple of bends.