Truth be known, there wasn’t a great deal she could say to that. But she gave it her best attempt. “I did not know her when you questioned me before, but I met her a time or two after that at the sewing circle, and we became …”
Carson’s brows rose. “Yes?”
Botheration. She couldn’t say “friends,” because who knew what they had learned about Miss Hemphill. “I became concerned about her well-being,” she finished lamely.
Although she knew he did not believe that, Carson didn’t question her words, since he had obviously made his point, but continued on. “You have been probing members of your book club and annoying upstanding citizens with suggestions and innuendoes.”
Members of her book club? Lady Carlisle? Mrs. Miles? Had one of them complained to the police? She dismissed immediately the thought that Mr. Miles had protested about her speaking with his mother the night before, because, with his own illegal goings-on, he would be the last person to involve the law in his life to any degree.
Detective Marsh snapped his notebook closed. “And you withheld pertinent information from the police.”
“What information?”
Carson sat back down and rested his spread fingers on his knees. “You learned from your gardener, Mr. Albright, that one of your book club members sold him drugs.”
Drat. Somehow they’d found that out.
“Mr. Albright might have said something about that; I’m not quite sure.”
Carson glared at her. “As we said, Lady Amy, you are not a stupid woman. He told you who his drug supplier was, and you would certainly remember. That was pertinent information that you neglected to report to the police.”
At that point, she decided keeping quiet was her best course of action.
Detective Marsh moved to the edge of his seat as if he was preparing to stand and, hopefully, leave. “We have reason to believe your accident was no accident, Lady Amy. The spokes on Lord Wethington’s wheel were deliberately cut.” He glowered at her. “You and your cohort could have been killed. In fact, it is safe to say that was the intention.”
She breathed a sigh of relief as both men stood. Detective Marsh then leaned down, took her by the elbow, and forced her to stand. “Lady Amy Lovell, you are under arrest for suspicion of murder and interfering in a police investigation.”
Her jaw dropped as he pulled out his handcuffs, snapped them over her wrists, and moved her forward. “This is outrageous,” she shouted.
When they reached the entrance hall, Lacey stood at the door, wringing her hands. “What should I do, milady?”
As they whisked her through the front door, Amy called over her shoulder, “Send a note around to Lord Wethington.” They hurried her down the stairs. “Immediately!”
CHAPTER 25
“Do you know who I am?” Amy stood with her hands fisted at her hips, attempting to look intimidating but falling a bit short, with the blasted men ignoring her as they scribbled away. Her foot tapped a cadence as she stared at Detec
tive Carson while he wrote information on the form in front of him. It appeared the man did know how to write.
He didn’t bother to look up. “Yes. You are Lady Amy Lovell.”
She sniffed and added, “Daughter of the Marquess of Winchester.”
“I know.”
“You cannot arrest a peer.”
“I have already arrested you.”
Amy quelled the urge to stamp her foot and instead walked around the small room that she, Detective Carson, and Detective Marsh occupied. “This is not proper. If it is discovered I have been in a room with two men with the door closed, I will be ruined.”
For the first time Carson looked up. “I know nothing about your society rules, but I would say being arrested on suspicion of murder and interfering in a police investigation might be considered a bit more ruinous than being alone in a room with two men.”
Amy leaned over the desk, planted her hand on the forms he was filling out, and stared him straight in the eye. “As you said, you are unfamiliar with my world. Believe me when I tell you that this is worse.”
Carson held her eyes for a minute, then said, “Marsh, open the blasted door for her ladyship.”
She straightened and smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from her skirts. “How long do you plan to keep me here?” She smirked. “Until I confess?”