Page 91 of In the Midnight Hour

Hypatia’s eyes widened briefly. “She stoked the fire to burn the dressing gown.”

“Why would she do that?” North could guess.

“Because she was destroying evidence.” Hypatia spoke with enthusiasm. “The dressing gown had to be involved with Sir Radnor’s death somehow. That’s the only reason to destroy it—to hide an important piece of evidence that could reveal the killer.”

That made sense… “Except the person who killed him didn’t even see the dressing gown, and I believe her.”

“I do too. Cora—and Gemma—had no reason to lie at that point.” Hypatia’s eyes rounded even wider than when she’d seen North in the garden. “What if Cora isn’t the murderer, because Sir Radnor wasn’t actually dead upstairs?”

North sucked in a breath, his pulse racing. “Cora hit him, but he was just unconscious, bleeding. He appeared dead. They brought him down here and…he woke up?”

“Mrs. Babcock found him,” Hypatia continued. “She sees him stirring, and she grabs the nearest thing she can find to finish him off. The dressing gown is on the end of the bed.”

What would she do with a dressing gown? North could only think of one thing that no one, not even the physician, would have noticed. “She smothered him.”

“Mrs. Babcock was not only aware of what Sir Radnor was doing, she put a stop to it for good,” Hypatia breathed, her features incredulous.

Maberly and Mrs. Babcock walked into the bedchamber. The housekeeper was stoic as ever, her eyes small and her jaw tight. “I spied you going up the stairs,” she said. “I fetched Maberly.” She glanced toward the butler, and he met her gaze with an almost…conspiratorial look.

North blinked in surprise. Was Maberly also involved in Sir Radnor’s demise?

The butler suddenly appeared less anxious than he had in the days that North had known him. “It’s convenient you came. This allows Mrs. Babcock and I to inform you personally that we’ve tendered our resignations.” He fixed on Hypatia. “A letter will be delivered to your house later today.”

“You’re leaving?” Hypatia sounded disappointed, probably because she’d been denied the satisfaction of dismissing them.

“Yes. Shortly, in fact. We overheard your musings.” Maberly’s gaze darted to the fabric in Hypatia’s hand.

Mrs. Babcock glanced toward the floor where Sir Radnor had lain dead and curled her lip. “You’re correct that Sir Radnor wasn’t, in fact, quite dead. I had to help the lecher along with his dressing gown.”

“I had to burn it, for it became soiled by the blood from his head wound,” Maberly said. “I should have made sure there were no remnants in the hearth, but I didn’t think of that since there’s usually a constant fire in the bedchamber hearth this time of year.”

“But there was no need to do that with Sir Radnor dead,” Hypatia said.

“Just so.” Maberly nodded toward the fabric. “I suggest you burn that when you have a chance. It isn’t evidence of anything. Whilst your deductions are compelling, they aren’t proof.”

“They are true,” North said, shocked at the butler’s calm and even devious demeanor. This wasn’t the man he’d come to know over the past week.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to confess anything, nor will Joan.” Maberly sent a commiserative glance to Mrs. Babcock. “Allow us to leave, and that will be the end of it.”

North kept from gaping at the man. “Justice demands you answer for your crime.”

Maberly directed a cool stare at them both. Here was a man who seemed free of whatever strain he’d been under, perhaps unburdened of the secrets he’d carried. “A vile man is dead, and no one has to pay the price. Isn’t that justice?”

His rationalization infuriated North, which was ironic since North had rationalized his own behavior in the past. “What if Lady Cartwright had been sent to trial? Or one of the servants? Would you have confessed then?”

“That wasn’t going to happen,” Mrs. Babcock snapped. “I think you know that, my lord.”

“Why did you kill him?” Hypatia asked the housekeeper.

“I should think it’s obvious. I couldn’t watch him hurt one more maid.” Mrs. Babcock pressed her lips together, her features taut with fury, and gestured toward the floor where Sir Radnor had died. “He was right there, his head bashed in. He might have died anyway, and I saved him a bit of suffering. It was a small thing. A necessary thing.”

“You knew what kind of man he was when you took this position,” Hypatia said coldly. “Mrs. Nyburn told you.”

“I did what I could,” Mrs. Babcock said, but her voice had weakened. She looked back at them, her eyes damp before she blinked them dry. “You don’t know what it’s like to be young and powerless in a household. You do what you’re told and that’s it.”

North thought he understood what she was saying, that she was speaking from experience.

“I think most women have lived some form of that,” Hypatia said softly. “Including you. Isn’t that right?” When Mrs. Babcock didn’t answer, Hypatia continued. “You knew what those maids endured because you’ve suffered too. I’m sorry, Mrs. Babcock.”