Heiress in Red Silk by Hunter, Madeline (best mystery novels of all time TXT) 📗

the light and airy morning room that overlooked the garden.

“Where is she?” he asked by way of announcing his abrupt arrival.

His cousin Chase glanced at him, then finished drinking the coffee in the cup at his mouth.

“How good to see you, Kevin. And so early too.” Minerva made a display of turning to look at a clock on a small corner table. “Why, it isn’t even ten o’clock.”

He was in no mood for Minerva’s sarcasm. “Chase wrote that Miss Jameson was coming up to Town yesterday, and that you had offered her hospitality, so I know the woman is in this house.”

“She is at that,” Minerva said. “Only she came two days ago and yesterday visited the solicitor. Right now she is in her chamber, probably sleeping.”

He pivoted toward the door.

“Stop.” Chase’s command caught him in mid stride.

Chase’s blue eyes glared when Kevin looked back at him.

“Sit. You cannot go up there, throw open a door, and have the conversation you want,” Chase said. “I understand your impatience, but you will have to wait a little longer.”

“I have waited a year, damn it. And I found her.” He had. Not Chase, the investigator charged with finding these mystery women their uncle had bequeathed fortunes to. Not Chase, whose profession was to conduct inquiries. Not Minerva either, who also had that profession, peculiar as that was.

Minerva gave him a sympathetic look that reminded him of the kind a nurse gives a tired child throwing a tantrum. “Why don’t you have some breakfast?”

He grudgingly went to the sideboard and made a plate of eggs and cakes for himself. The footman brought coffee when he sat across from Chase. His mind, however, was preoccupied with the upper floors of the house, where the woman who held his future in her hands slept peacefully, unlike his own sleepless nights of late.

The food helped him find some equanimity.

“When was the last time you had a decent meal?” Chase asked.

Kevin looked down at his plate, now empty of a mound of eggs and two of the three cakes. “Last night. No, wait. The night before. I have been busy.”

“Still working out the problem with gambling odds?”

“Not problems. Probabilities. And yes, I have been doing a bit of thinking about those.”

“It doesn’t seem right, somehow. To gamble with a mathematical advantage.”

“I’m certainly not going to gamble without an advantage. The point is to make a lot of money fast, not lose it.”

Chase, who knew why he needed that money, gave a little shrug. “You will find a way.”

“It may not matter. You are harboring a woman in your home who may make it all pointless.” He forced calm, even nonchalance, into his tone as he turned to Minerva. “How did the visit to the solicitor go?”

“Very well. Miss Jameson is overwhelmed, of course. Mr. Sanders was his usual, calm, fatherly self and explained everything clearly. He answered her questions completely.”

“What questions?”

Minerva’s mouth opened a bit, then shut. She glanced askance at Chase, who returned a look that said, “That was a mistake, darling.”

Minerva drank a bit of tea. “She had typical questions about accessing the funds. Unlike mine, hers are not in trust. The duke knew her, and probably saw what anyone can see, that she is a very levelheaded woman and quite practical. He would perhaps not worry so much whether she could manage the money on her own.”

Kevin felt a very thin smile form. His uncle, the late duke, had left a woman who was almost a stranger more money than he had left one of his favored nephews, Kevin. Free and clear, no less. “And the rest? The business enterprise?” His business enterprise.

Minerva cleared her throat. “Yes, that. Well, she did ask Mr. Sanders what she should do with it. He was duty bound to tell her the options.” She grimaced. “The notion of selling her half did seem to appeal to her.”

Hell and damnation. He would kill Sanders.

“I must see her,” he said. “Go and get her. Either that or Chase will be fighting me with swords on the staircase to try to keep me from going myself.”

Minerva’s eyes narrowed. She turned to Chase, looking for equal annoyance, only to see Chase decide to drink more coffee right then.

Minerva stood. “I suppose I can see if she has risen yet. However, I will not wake her for your convenience, and if she is not yet dressed, you will have a long wait. You should call again this afternoon, as a civilized person would.”

“I don’t care if it is a long wait. I’ll stay in the library until she comes down.”

Minerva left. Chase pulled over a stack of mail and began flipping through it. Kevin availed himself of the sideboard again.

He settled back into his chair. All the Radnor cousins had their own strengths, and one of Chase’s was the ability to find information and assess its worth. He also could size up a person quickly. He had made a profession of those talents.

“What did you think of her?” Kevin asked.

Chase set down a letter and considered the question. “She is sensible and independent. She has established herself in a shop and appears to be making a success of it. At least enough of one that she has an assistant and an apprentice, which allowed her to leave it in their hands while she journeyed here. She is common born, but she has little of the rustic left in her. She seemed intelligent, but I did not speak with her very long.”

“What does she look like?”

“She has blond hair. Other than that, my opinion would be subjective at best. Does it matter?”

Blond hair. He had assumed it would be gray. He didn’t know why he thought that. Perhaps because most modistes were advanced in years before they could afford to open their own shops, and he assumed it would be the same for milliners. Of course, most women did not have a duke giving them a small purse that could be used to establish