“So how did old Langley die?” Fairchild hadn’t given him much background on her previous husbands, only Stanhope.
“For a man who swears he shall never marry, you seem to have quite an interest in the Cursed Countess.”
“I never said that...wait, the what?” he asked, moving his gaze back to Blakely. How had he never heard her called that? He hadn’t been very active in Society for the past year or two, but surely he should have been aware of that aspect of her reputation.
Blakely gave him a smug smile. “That is what some of the gossipmongers call her.”
Jack shook his head. Fairchild had not given him enough information on this investigation. Then again, Fairchild wasn’t privy to the rumors of good Society. Jack was the only person in Fairchild’s employ who could walk into the ballroom or salon of anyone in the ton, which was the reason Fairchild had hired him. “So, how did Langley die?”
“In bed with his mistress.”
“Pity, that.” Jack smothered a chuckle. A bride forty years his junior and a mistress. Little wonder he died.
“Indeed,” Blakely said also trying not to laugh. “Apparently, his heart gave out, though rumor quickly spread that poison might have been involved due to his pallor and something about some stomach issues.”
Jack felt a quick pang of sympathy for the young woman marked by her husband’s death in the bed of another, but his compassion lasted only a moment. “Wasn’t there a coroners’ investigation?”
“Yes, and they found nothing of substance. No arsenic in the house.”
Of course, they would not find anything. Any intelligent person would know to get rid of the poison as soon as the deed was done. He eyed her speaking to the Duke of Worthington with her sister. He hoped she wasn’t planning the duke to be her next mark. “And the second husband?”
“Yes, Viscount Dereham.”
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“So she moved up to a viscount this time?”
“Yes, and an earl the next,” Blakely said with a touch of scorn lining his voice. “But her second marriage lasted exactly one month. The man died on the anniversary of their marriage.”
“A carriage accident, right?” He vaguely remembered hearing some gossip about this well over two years ago.
“On his way home from his mistress,” Blakely added.
“The poor girl can’t seem to keep her husbands at home.”
“Exactly,” Blakely responded.
“So why would an accident be blamed on the lady?”
Blakely sipped his wine before saying, “Again, there was speculation that he had been poisoned and then lost control of his cabriolet on his way home.”
“What type of fool drives an open carriage to his mistress’s home? That is what a closed carriage with a driver is for, so no one sees him.” No doubt, the woman had married two fools. “Was the mistress questioned?”
“Yes, but she loved the man and was more upset than his wife. Also, he gave the mistress an excellent lifestyle that she would be unable to maintain if he died.”
Jealousy motivated many people to criminal behavior. If both her husbands had kept mistresses, she had a motive. More so if she needed or wanted money.
Glancing over at the countess as she sipped a glass of wine, looking slightly pallid, he wondered what would cause a man to marry a woman like her but still keep a mistress. Perhaps she had a tongue like a wasp or the brain of a child. But she was indeed a beautiful woman. Her thick auburn hair was swept up on her head, exposing her long slender neck, heart shaped face and delicate features. From here, he could not tell her eye color but he’d wager they were green or blue. His perusal moved down over her full breasts pushed up against the green silk gown, farther down over a slim waist and flared hips. She was more exquisite than he had expected. He let out a long breath as he stared across the room at her.
He almost felt a touch of pity for the woman, but after all he’d seen in Fairchild’s employ, Jack understood that a seed of truth usually started the gossip. While he knew exactly what had happened after reading the file from Fairchild, he still asked, hoping his friend might have a bit more insight. “What happened with her third husband? Another mistress?”
“Not this time. His valet found Stanhope dead in his own bed a week after the wedding. From all accounts, he loved her immensely. So much so that he changed his will a week before they were wed, leaving her a fortune and the London town home, while his son received a healthy inheritance and the entailed properties. However, Stanhope’s son has been rather insistent that his stepmother received far too much money.”
It was the current Earl of Stanhope who had hired Fairchild to investigate his father’s death. Lord Stanhope was convinced that his stepmother murdered his father to gain the money from the will. “How did she make out with her other husband’s deaths?”
Blakely shook his head slowly. “I should have known why you were asking so many questions, Raynerson.”
Jack frowned as he looked over at his friend. “What are you blabbering about, Blakely?”