“How many?” Hollis asked curiously.
“I don’t have a number, obviously, but I recommend her to anyone who asks. It doesn’t matter, for she’d not divulge a thing about who’d commissioned what.”
“What in bloody blazes is this? It looks like a harem in here, Caro!” a male voice thundered.
Lord Hawke, Caroline’s brother, he of the handsome visage and trim figure, the gentleman who kept all the young ladies of London and their mothers guessing as to whom he might eventually take to wife, strolled into the dining room. He’d been out, apparently, or was going out, as he was wearing his greatcoat. And he looked quite refreshed, as if he’d had a full night’s rest. It hardly seemed fair.
“Are you only just out of bed?” he asked incredulously, looking at each of them in turn.
“Of course!” Caroline said. “It was dawn before we finally stumbled home. Had you stayed on, you’d still be abed, too.”
“I would not have stayed on. It was personal sacrifice enough that I was forced to escort the three of you against my will. I don’t care a fig about balls, and certainly not for the purpose of amusing some foreign prince. Even so, I am generally in good health and do not need much sleep. You should take your walks, the three of you. It’s good for stamina.” He reached across Caroline and helped himself to a slice of ham. “You’re all too pale, really.”
Eliza and Hollis took no offense. Beck had known the Tricklebank sisters since they’d been children, and tended to view them as children to this day. He paid them no heed, and they paid him even less.
“You won’t believe it, Beck—I met the crown prince!” Eliza crowed.
Beck looked at her as if she’d lost her mind. “And?”
“And he’s unmarried.” Eliza winked at him before fitting a cherry into her mouth.
“Dear Lord,” Beck said with alarm. “Surely I needn’t explain to you gooses that none of you, not even you, Caro, have the sort of dowry or connections or the appeal that such a match would require. You’re whistling in the wind! Frankly, if you ask me—”
“No one has,” Caroline pointed out.
“If you ask me,” he said a bit louder, “you’d all do well to be more practical in your dealings about town.”
“Meaning?” Caroline asked.
“Meaning, set your sights on gentlemen who are more suited to your situation. A baronet or knight for you, Caro.” He looked studiously at Hollis and Eliza. “I don’t know, perhaps a clerk of some sort?” he suggested, just in case Hollis and Eliza thought so highly of themselves that they might have set their sights on a lord or, heaven forfend, a prince. “Instead of wasting your time worrying over ball gowns, endeavour to do something useful, such as learning about the care and feeding of a husband and children. You should not be chasing princes and certainly not writing your gazette,” he added with much disdain and a pointed look at Hollis.
“There is not a single gentleman in our acquaintance who appreciates the work or the appeal of Honeycutt’s Gazette,” Hollis said pertly. “Am I the only one to notice this?”
“Trust me, Mrs. Honeycutt, you are not the only one to notice,” Beck said.
Hollis was very protective of her enterprise and looked as if she might launch herself at Beck. But Caroline was quick to step in before anything untoward was said or done. “Thank you for your advice, dearest brother,” she said sweetly. “Surely now that you’ve imparted your vastly superior wisdom, you’ll want to find someone else in need of your advice and leave us to finish our breakfast?”
“You’re dismissing me, are you?” Beck asked casually as he helped himself to bread. “Then you must not care to hear my news.”
“What news?” Hollis asked.
“No, no,” he said, wagging a finger at her. “This is not for your gazette, Hollis. This is strictly confidential. Do I have your word?”
“Really?” Eliza asked, perking up. “What is it? Has Mr. Clarence’s wandering eye wandered again?”
“Nothing as mundane as that,” Beck said, clearly disappointed by her guess. “Do I have your word?”
“Yes!” the three of them cried in impatient unison.
“Very well,” Beck said, and ate a berry before announcing, quite casually, “This morning, the crown prince’s personal secretary was found murdered in his bed at Kensington.”
There was a moment of stunned silence. And then a burst of questions.
Beck held up his hand and looked around at them. “His throat had been cut as he lay sleeping. I suppose he lay sleeping. All I know is that he was found in his bed, dressed in nightclothes, from which one could deduce he’d been sleeping.”
Caroline, Hollis and Eliza looked at one another, their mouths agape.
“But which one is his secretary?” Hollis asked. “They all wore identical masks.”
Beck shrugged. “They say his hand was deformed—”
Eliza gasped. “No!” she croaked.
“Yes.”
“But he was the one who managed the introductions to the prince! You remember, Caro, I pointed him out to you.”
“Well, he won’t be making introductions now,” Beck said carelessly.
Caroline slapped her brother’s arm as he reached across her again. “How can you be so heartless?”
“Really, Beck!” Eliza said, appalled by this news. “The man spoke to me! He asked if I’d been harmed.”
“That’s right,” Hollis chimed in. “A man has lost his life and you are making jests.”
“It’s not a jest, it’s fact. I’m not heartless, but I have no personal knowledge of this man. It is therefore difficult for me to spring tears of grief for his demise.”
“But why?” Hollis asked.
“Because I don’t know him—”
“No, no, I mean why would someone kill him?”
“Well, that is the question on everyone’s mind, isn’t it? I suspect it has something to do with the rumors of rebellion that circulate. Perhaps the murderer meant to slay the prince and mistook his secretary.”
“No,” Eliza said. “The secretary was a slight man. The prince is tall and robust.”
“I suspect they will know soon enough. Someone is bound to have seen something. One simply cannot go wandering about Kensington cutting throats and not be noticed. All right then, stop eating and dress. It’s near to teatime and I’m expecting callers. I won’t have a harem lounging in my dining room.” Beck took another berry and sauntered out of the room. “Please do as I ask, Caro,” he called over his shoulder before disappearing into the hall.
Caroline rolled her eyes and pulled a hunk of bread from a loaf and began to butter it.
“I can’t believe it,” Eliza said. “I can’t believe that poor man was murdered.” She thought about how earnest he was in making his introductions to the prince. How intolerably disgruntled the prince appeared to be, scarcely looking at the ladies. How kind he had been to her when she’d boasted of meeting a prince. He’d said she’d made an indelible impression.
“Why would someone murder him in a royal palace? Where there are guards and people and so many opportunities