A Study in Silks by Emma Jane Holloway Read Free Book Online Page B

gave in to emotion. Now she saw why—she needed a clear head. It was impossible to concentrate when she wanted to snarl like a tinker’s cur.
    There wasn’t a whiff of magic on the body itself, which meant some
one
, not some
thing
invoked by sorcery, had wielded the blade. That meant Grace Child had been killed by a purely human agency. Or did it? In Evelina’s limited experience, it took time for magical residue to stick, especially to flesh, so was it safe to make an assumption?
    That raised an interesting question. Was there a connection between this murder and those trunks in the attic? Two unusual events in one night could be coincidence, but it seemed unlikely.
    Lord Bancroft gestured to the man on his left. “This is Inspector Lestrade.” The former ambassador’s voice was dry as he addressed his son.
    Evelina started.
Lestrade
. She knew the name from her uncle’s cases, but she’d never met him in person. She studied him carefully, thinking that Dr. Watson had described him well.
    “I’m sure you and Miss Cooper will leave him and his men to do their work,” Bancroft added.
    All eyes were on Tobias, who had his mouth set in a defiant frown. Evelina was invisible, just a girl who had accidentally strayed into the affairs of men—even though she was the one getting her hands bloody. Piqued, Evelina rose to her feet.
    The motion of her standing drew the eyes of the inspector. “Miss?”
    He was a wiry man of middling height with dark hair, a sallow complexion, and the sharp, pointed features of a rat. He had dressed with the look of one eager to impress, but something in his air made Evelina uneasy. This was no fool. She wondered, with a sick feeling, if Nick had finally found the wits to leave the house.
    She looked at him squarely. “This is Grace Child, one of the kitchen staff.”
    Lord Bancroft barely stirred at the news. There were doubtless more drudges where Grace had come from.
    Lestrade narrowed his eyes—an expression that did not match his polite nod. “Thank you, miss, but I’d appreciate it if you stepped away. There’s a chance you might disturb the evidence.”
    “Of course.”
    As she moved toward the door, the evidence in her pocket, she counted the uniforms Lestrade had brought with him. There were three, all crowding into the cloakroom with chests puffed out and brass buttons shining.
    One had a chemical whistle strapped to his belt, set to give off a shrill alarm if its plunger was depressed. Her uncle, something of a chemist, had designed the prototype and given it to Scotland Yard. If only the coppers’ brains were as sharp as their gear.
    With a pang of frustration, she wondered if anyone had thought to search the grounds. Or was that too much a breach of His Lordship’s privacy? Lucky for Nick, they weren’t combing the upstairs rooms, but …
    She thought again about that moment in the upstairs corridor. Had Grace surprised someone? The idea gnawed at her.
    But Lestrade’s eyes were on her. The only thing Evelina could do right then was retreat, so she returned to the hall where Dora sat. Maisie and the housekeeper were gone, but someone had brought tea, the universal restorative. A little steam-powered trolley sat huffing to one side, smelling of Assam and brandy.
    Evelina sat next to Dora. “How are you?”
    Dora sniffed wearily. “I’ll be all right, miss.” But she shook her head, as if nothing would ever be right again. “Poor Maisie’d done the last of the pots and was going to bed. Taking the short way rather than the servant’s stairs like she was supposed to. Saw the light and went to shut it off and then there was Gracie.”
    Evelina thought a moment, trying to picture the scene in her head. “There was a woman’s footprint by Grace, and I noticed she was wearing walking boots that would have left a much larger outline. It couldn’t have been hers. Do you know if Maisie went right up to the body?”
    “No, miss. She barely set foot in the room once