Page 70 of In the Midnight Hour

Hypatia walked farther into the room. “This reminds me of my sitting room.” The Wedgwood blue and pale-yellow colors were fashionable, so it wasn’t surprising.

The woman Hypatia had met the day before entered the drawing room. Her rose-pink and navy-blue day dress was as appealing as her drawing room. Mrs. Jennings was a woman of excellent taste.

Mrs. Jennings regarded them with a mild wariness in her dark brown eyes. “Good afternoon, Lord Northwood, Lady Cartwright.” She dipped a brief curtsy.

“Good afternoon,” Hypatia said warmly, hoping to put the woman at ease. “I hope you won’t find our visit too forward. Do you mind if we sit?”

Moving to the seating area nearest the hearth, Mrs. Jennings sat in a high-backed chair of Wedgwood blue. Hypatia and Northwood sat opposite her on a damask settee of the same color.

Mrs. Jennings clasped her hands in her lap and looked at them expectantly. The wariness still lingered in her features. “I understand why curiosity might have brought you here, Lady Cartwright. But why has Lord Northwood accompanied you?”

Hypatia and Northwood had discussed what to say on the way here. They’d agreed there was no way, nor was there a reason, to hem around the matter at hand. “We are investigating Sir Radnor’s murder,” she replied.

A tremor passed through Mrs. Jennings, making her shoulder twitch. Hypatia wondered if Northwood had caught it.

“I don’t see how I could possibly help with your…investigation. Pardon me, I find it odd the two of you are investigating a crime.”

“It is unusual,” Hypatia conceded as she glanced at Northwood. They’d also agreed that she would do most of the talking. “However, I find myself in a difficult position in that Bow Street is investigating me because I dined with Sir Radnor the night he died and left his house rather late.”

Mrs. Jennings nodded. “I’ve read the newspaper. I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

Hypatia scooted forward slightly. “Please, Mrs. Jennings. I know you were once friendly with Sir Radnor. It is my hope that we could share our…experiences with him. I suspect we were in similar positions. I’m sure you also read in a newspaper that Sir Radnor hoped to marry me.”

“I did, just as I read that you’re his heir and you claimed not to know.”

“I didn’t know,” Hypatia said firmly, not appreciating the woman’s use of the word “claimed,” though she was probably quoting precisely what she’d read in a newspaper. “I also had no inkling he had any…romantic—though that is not the word I would use—intention toward me. At least not until last Friday night when he behaved in a thoroughly inappropriate manner for the first time ever.”

Mrs. Jennings’ neck flushed, and she clutched her hands together so tightly that her knuckles whitened. However, she didn’t say anything.

Hypatia refused to become frustrated. She hadn’t wanted to talk about Sir Radnor’s behavior either. “Sir Radnor and I became close friends in recent months. We shared a love of literature and often dined together to discuss it. I thought we were merely friends with a common interest, but apparently, he’d developed stronger feelings for me, which he shared last Friday.”

All while Hypatia spoke, Mrs. Jennings listened intently. Still, she didn’t respond.

“Mrs. Jennings, your name has surfaced in the investigation,” North blurted, his tone of voice revealing his frustration. “Sir Radnor’s valet, Mr. Usher, mentioned you by name the morning Sir Radnor was found. He thought he’d seen you in his bedchamber the night before.”

Gasping, Mrs. Jennings stood abruptly and crossed to the window. She kept her back to them. “That’s preposterous.”

Northwood met Hypatia’s gaze with concern. Hypatia found Mrs. Jennings’ reaction troubling.

“So, you weren’t there?” Northwood asked.

Mrs. Jennings turned from the window, her brows drawn tightly together and her posture stiff. “I most certainly was not. I haven’t been to Sir Radnor’s house in years. Not since before I moved away from the square nearly five years ago.”

“But you have been there?” Hypatia asked. “We think Mr. Usher was confused, that perhaps he saw you there in the past.”

The color leached from Mrs. Jennings’ face. “He said that I was in Sir Radnor’s bedchamber?”

“He did,” North said gently. “However, it’s not yet clear to me if he meant to say that. Mr. Usher seems easily confused, unfortunately.”

Hypatia tried again to coax the woman to share her relationship with Sir Radnor. “Would you tell us how you met Sir Radnor? I met him in the center garden.”

“That’s where I met him too.” Mrs. Jennings returned to her chair and perched on the edge. She was still rigid, and her unease was palpable. “Like you and him, we shared a great interest in literature. We especially liked discussing plays. In fact, we attended the theatre together on several occasions.”

Mrs. Jennings clasped her hands again—rather tightly, which only served to make her appear even more agitated. “Your…situation sounds eerily similar to mine. I began to dine at his house, but I didn’t think overly much of it. I thought we were merely friends with a common interest.”

Hypatia nodded. “I enjoyed his intellect and our conversations.”

“Precisely.” Mrs. Jennings’ eyes lit with camaraderie. “Then one night, he surprised me by speaking of marriage.” She flushed. “I confess that I considered it. You must understand, I didn’t feel any romantic inclination toward him. I liked him and enjoyed our time together. He was quite a bit older than me, of course, so I imagined a placid, friendly marriage in which I kept him company in his waning years. That didn’t sound unpleasant.”