Little Coquette Read Free Page A

can of that unfortunate woman we found this morning, Beaumont. I want to discover if there is anything we can do for her family.”
    She was not imagining the look of consternation that seized his handsome face. “Oh, I would not do that if I were you, Miss Trevelyn. I have already been there. The constable has assured me he will notify her family. No doubt they will be taking her home for burial soon.”
    Her chin lifted instinctively at this blatant example of gentlemen thinking they ruled the world. “I shall speak to him all the same,” she said.
    Her mama adopted a simpering smile. “I am sure there is no need if Beaumont is handling the matter, dear. So kind of him.”
    “I should like to go, Mama,” Lydia insisted in the steely voice that her mama could see was displeasing Beaumont.
    “It is really not necessary,” he said firmly.
    “There might be something a lady can do that a gentleman cannot,” Lydia said. “Who is the woman? What is her name?”
    Beaumont saw the mulish set of her chin and realized he had to protect Lady Trevelyn from the truth whatever Lydia said. He was not yet sure what the truth was, but his first idea had taken root and grown.
    A pretty redhead found dead in the river adjacent to Sir John’s property, Sir John missing from London for a week when he virtually never missed a day in the House, and the woman not only dead, not drowned, but shot. The doctor who had written the death certificate had found a bullet had gone straight through her heart. Beaumont had not spotted the bullet hole in her gown. The water had washed away the blood. No identification had been found on her, but when word of the death got about, the constable had heard a rumor that she had been putting up at the Rose and Crown.
    Beaumont was on his way there to examine her room in hope of learning her name and where she was from. Once he established her identity, he wanted to get Lydia away from her mama long enough to give her some notion of his fears. As her papa’s lightskirt was common knowledge, he assumed Lydia knew about her. If, as he thought, the woman had been Trevelyn’s mistress, he would visit Sir John and discuss with him how this awful thing had happened, and how they might protect Sir John and his family— and the Tory party. He did not think for a moment that Sir John had killed her, but he might have an idea who had done it. A jealous lover or husband, perhaps. It would not be unusual for a lightskirt to be mixed up in some dangerous illegal business either. Selling confidential government information was one possibility, blackmail another.
    “I don’t know her name. I am just on my way into the Rose and Crown now to ask if they know anything of her there,” he said. Then he turned a smiling face to Lady Trevelyn. “I am convinced you would not wish to involve yourself in such an unpleasant affair, ma’am. Why do you not let Miss Trevelyn and me make the enquiries while you enjoy a drive or call on a friend. I shall undertake to see that your daughter comes to no harm and deliver her home.”
    Lady Trevelyn was not likely to object to any scheme that threw Lydia in Beaumont’s path. “So very thoughtful. Is that not thoughtful of Beaumont, dear? You two run along and I shall drop in and beg a cup of tea from Mrs. Clarke.”
    Lydia directed a suspicious glance at Beaumont before accepting the offer. “Thank you, Beaumont,” she said. “I shall see you at home, Mama.”
    “Enjoy yourself,” her mama said, as gaily as if it were a social outing.
    “What have you learned that you don’t want Mama to hear?” Lydia asked as soon as they were alone. “The woman means nothing special to Mama. They were not friends or even acquaintances.”
    “No, I would hardly call Sir John’s bit of muslin a friend of your mama. Not that I am sure, but the coincidence of a redheaded lightskirt turning up dead on his doorstep looks suspicious, you must own.”
    She stared at him in horror, as if he