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She glanced around before she nodded. “Very well. One question.”
“What do you remember about the flower arrangement in Lady Margaret’s parlor?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“Nothing odd happened in co
“That’s two questions.”
“Please.”
“I didn’t see anything unusual happen with the flowers. When I first arrived, Victoria was saying something was a very strange custom, and one she didn’t think was too hygienic. Margaret dismissed her with a wave of the hand and rose to greet me. I never found out what they were talking about.”
“And you didn’t see or hear any more about this strange custom?” I let go of Lady Julia’s arm. I was certain she wouldn’t leave now.
“No. It was never mentioned again.”
“Not even when Victoria was taken ill? In the carriage or in her room?”
“No. I think whatever Margaret suggested, Victoria rejected. Victoria did say something later about not being a follower of silly peasant customs.”
“But nothing else?”
“Nothing else. And nothing about flowers.”
That was it, then. There was no evidence to either clear Margaret from suspicion or prove she killed Victoria. I looked at Lady Julia’s eyes through the two sets of eyeholes in our masks. I could see defiance growing in hers.
“Margaret’s my friend. I’m not going to help you hang her.”
I held her gaze. “You think Margaret poisoned Victoria, don’t you?”
“I don’t think it was physically possible. I was with them almost the entire time they were together. What I remember most from that day was that Victoria was wretchedly unhappy.”
“What?” Victoria was unhappy? That was news.
“Victoria didn’t want to marry the duke. She couldn’t stand him. She thought he was stuffy, dull. The duke and her father arranged the match. Her mother was thrilled. Victoria felt like a sacrificial lamb. And she pla
“She told you this?” We couldn’t be talking about the same Duke of Blackford. He wasn’t stuffy or dull. He was infuriating, helpful, riveting; and he deflected danger and unwanted questions with grace.
“Every time we were alone after the engagement was a
“Thank you for your honesty. And I’m sorry to hear about your grandfather.” Would she be honest about this rumor, too?
Her eyes widened. “I didn’t know you knew. I’m heartbroken. He has less than a month to live and I don’t know what will happen with Papa and the title then.” She grabbed my hand and squeezed it. “Please don’t tell anyone.”
I nodded, mouth slightly open, and then watched Lady Julia walk away. If Waxpool’s impending death was the reason Drake was being hunted, then Waxpool’s manservant, Price, would be somewhere in the crowd looking for the blackmailer. Blackford told his fellow victims that Drake would be here tonight, and I suspected our costumes were designed to be beacons for the search.
Now I’d heard both Victoria and Margaret were unhappy women. What role had it played in their deaths? I doubted I’d get an answer to that question, but I still had to ask it, if only to myself.
I pressed through the crowd looking for Emma. I thought I saw her and her shimmering blue mask near the French doors and worked a path in that direction, only to lose her again in the crowd.
Then I spotted her on the dance floor, whirling around in a waltz with a slim, trim Henry VIII with blond hair and a neatly trimmed beard. They made a handsome couple. I hoped Emma wouldn’t lose her head. A man in a wizard costume watched them closely from the edge of the floor. I suspected he’d be Emma’s next dance partner.
The crowd parted slightly for a tall figure in a black hooded robe, a scythe gleaming in one hand. Who had come to the party dressed as the angel of death? His full mask and his hood hid his face, but his head swiveled between watching Emma and looking at me.
I slipped back to the chaperones’ section with its scattering of chairs and found the Marie Antoinette I wanted carrying a bow-covered green parasol. I recognized the parasol from my visit to Portman Square. “Your Highness,” I began, “or should I say Your Grace?”
“You recognized me?”
“You wear the same costume every year.” I hoped what I’d been told was correct.
She nodded. “Do I know you?”
“Archivist Society.”
“Oh, yes. Your costume is quite unique.”
“Just the effect I was hoping for. What is your daughter wearing?”
“A shepherdess. I wish she weren’t. She looks so lifeless next to Daisy Hancock.”
I glanced in the direction the duchess was staring and saw two shepherdesses standing in conversation. Daisy Hancock’s blondness and animation were hard to overlook, especially next to the demure, dark-haired girl she was talking to. A man came up and took the laughing Daisy away for more dancing. The duchess’s daughter slipped away into the rainbow-hued crowd.
“Your daughter will keep her looks and her warm disposition much longer than Miss Daisy,” I said. I hoped I was right. The duchess’s daughter had my build and pale complexion. “Where is Miss Daisy’s chaperone?”
“Hancock? Who knows who he has minding her this season. And I wouldn’t be surprised if he didn’t attend. In fact, I’m certain he’s not here. If he were, he’d be boring the guests with how they should invest in his latest creation. Merville positively runs when he sees the man coming.”
“He has a reputation for that?”
“At every event he attends. And it’s been worse lately. Merville says the rumor around the City is he’s completely broke, and you know how expensive a season is.” She looked at me down her long nose. “Well, I guess you don’t.”
I did know how much Miss Daisy wanted another two seasons. Poor Hancock. He couldn’t be blackmailed by Drake, not if he didn’t have any money and his niece was demanding more frocks for parties.
Voices nearby nearly made me miss her next words. “I’m sorry?”
“He’s going to miss Waxpool. The earl is dying.”
I glanced in the direction Lady Merville was looking. “Is that Price dressed as the angel of death?”
“His manservant. Yes. It suits him, don’t you think?”
“How do you know him?”
“He’s been with Waxpool for a generation, and these days has to travel with that frail old man everywhere. Tonight I saw him without his mask outside when we arrived. Quite a clever costume.”
I thought it was creepy, especially since Waxpool was supposedly close to death. “What will happen to the title when Waxpool dies?”
Lady Merville pursed her lips. “The son won’t receive a Writ of Summons from the queen to take his seat in the House of Lords if a warrant is issued for his arrest. Of course, no one in our class will say a word against him.” She sniffed. “But you never know what persons of the lower orders might do with the right evidence. If word gets out, it’ll be a juicy scandal and the queen will be forced to ignore him. In older times, the monarch took away titles from nobles he didn’t like, but that was usually for insurrection.”
The servant’s scythe glittered with reflected light as he disappeared into the crowd. “Why is Price here?”
The lady shook her bewigged head gently.
I moved on, uneasy since I guessed Price was there to find Drake. Waxpool couldn’t act on his own, but I could imagine the orders he might have given his manservant. I glanced around, hoping to see Blackford or Drake and warn them.