A Murder in Time(94)

The maid set down the tray on a nearby table, curtsied, and left. The butler stayed behind to pour.

“How do you take your tea, sir?”

“Two sugars. Cream.”

“Miss?”

“Black. One sugar.”

The butler doctored the tea, passed around the cups. He obviously knew Morland’s preferences, handing him a cup and saucer without inquiring.

“Will that be all, sir?”

“Yes. You may go, Adams.” As the butler closed the door behind him, Morland raised his brows. “Is this visit about the soiled dove? Has the Bow Street Runner returned?”

Aldridge’s expression pulled into grave lines. “As a matter of fact, he has.”

“Has he learned the identity of the chit?”

Kendra watched him closely, but couldn’t detect anything other than curiosity in his gaze. “No, but he uncovered something significant. Prostitutes similar to the girl found in the lake have vanished from London over the last four years.”

“Vanished? I don’t understand. If they were not found murdered, pray tell, how can you make the correlation between those prostitutes and the dead girl in the lake?”

The Duke answered. “It’s difficult to explain. However, based on the evidence, I am confident that there is a connection.”

Kendra looked at Morland. “Where were you Sunday night, Mr. Morland? I understand that you were at Lady Atwood’s dinner party, but where did you go after?”

For a moment, he simply stared at her. As though he hadn’t heard her correctly. Then his gaze swiveled to the Duke. “What does my whereabouts have to do with this, Your Grace?”

Aldridge sighed. “I apologize for our impertinence. Miss Donovan has convinced me that this line of inquiry is necessary.”

“Miss Donovan has persuaded you to believe I am capable of this—this barbarism?”

“We’re questioning several people, Mr. Morland,” she stated calmly. “It’s procedure.”

“Procedure? What procedure? I’m the bloody magistrate!”

“Think of it as your civic duty.”

“My—” A muscle worked in his jaw. “This is absurd!”

The Duke sighed again. “I truly was hoping you would not take insult. Nevertheless, I’d like an answer.”

His tone was mild, but Kendra recognized the steel beneath it. She was reminded again of the power the Duke wielded in this world. Better than a badge.

Morland put his teacup down and surged to his feet. Spine rigid, he stalked to the window. When he answered, his voice was abrupt. “I returned home from the dinner party. After Monsieur Anton’s most excellent dinner, I took a turn around the garden. Then I read in the library before retiring to my bedchamber.”

“Can anyone verify your whereabouts?”

He flicked her a hard look. “It was late. Mayhap the servants observed my nocturnal activity. Mayhap they did not.”

“What about your valet?” Kendra asked, remembering Rebecca’s question to Dalton. “Wouldn’t he have helped you get ready for bed?”

“He assisted me before I occupied myself reading in the library. I did not need his assistance later.”

“What book did you read?”

He frowned, puzzled. “What does my reading material have to do with anything?”

“I realize this is confusing, but I’d appreciate an answer.”

He continued to frown at her for several more seconds as though trying to figure out the reason behind the question, then shrugged. “Tom Jones. Have you read it, Miss Donovan?”

“Yes. It’s an old book.” Even in this time period.

Morland said nothing.

Kendra continued, “You are familiar with London, my Lord?”

“Of course. I have a town house that I make use of, especially during the season. As does most of the Ton, including His Grace.”

Aldridge acknowledged that point with a nod. “It’s been many years since I made use of my townhome, but my sisters and their families often use it for their sojourns to Town.”

For the first time since they’d begun the interview, Morland’s eyes glinted with amusement. “If, by your query, you are wondering about my escapades in London, Miss Donovan, I shall admit to sowing my wild oats. But that was when I was a young buck. And if being a rascal is now a crime then the entire aristocracy is at risk of deportation or the gallows. With the exception, of course, of the Duke of Aldridge.”

“But you go back and forth between your home here and London?”

He gave a shrug. “I suppose. No more or less than anyone else though, including Lord Sutcliffe and his brother, Lord Gabriel.”

“Thank you for answering our questions, Mr. Morland.”

He raised a brow, surprised. “We are at the end of the interrogation?”

“I prefer to call it an interview.”

“I suppose that depends on who is asking the questions, does it not?”

Taking that as a signal, Aldridge set aside his teacup and stood up. “Again, I apologize for any inconvenience, Mr. Morland. My sister has orchestrated a dinner and dance tonight. I hope this will not influence your decision to attend?”

“Not at all, Your Grace.” The magistrate was back to being affable, even managing a smile as he opened the door and ushered them out into the hall. “’Tis not easy to be quizzed about a harlot’s murder, but one must make allowances. I certainly want this villain caught.”