‘Lord Tillingham,’ I said, watching her closely. ‘He is dead.’
I expected shock – real or feigned. A faint, again, possibly false. Wild sobs, disbelief, anything but what she said.
‘Dead? What about my diamonds?’
‘Your… Madame, Lord Tillingham is dead. Deceased. Murdered,’ I added, feeling remarkably like a re-run of Monty Python’s Dead Parrot Sketch. No, the Viscount is not resting, stunned or pining for the fjords… I managed to get control of incipient hysteria and said, more moderately, ‘I realise this must be a terrible shock.’
She shrugged magnificently, causing an agitation under the lace and satin of the boudoir gown that was probably enough to resuscitate most straight males from a deep coma. Luc, certainly, appeared fascinated. Perhaps I was unfair and he was merely baffled by the woman. I refrained from kicking his ankle.
‘He is nothing to me. What does it matter that he is dead? Tell that Prescott man, his secretary, to send me the diamonds I was promised.’
‘Mr Adrien Prescott has no authority to dispose of any item belonging to the late Viscount,’ Luc said. Quite bravely, I thought, considering that Madame’s eyes were now narrowed, her bosom positively heaving and her right hand was reaching towards the china ornaments on the nearest side table. ‘I will ask him to send you the address of the solicitor dealing with the estate.’
In a startling change of mood the Frenchwoman hurled herself onto the sofa and began to weep stormily. It was a bravura performance, but I didn’t believe it had anything to do with grief.
I saw a lacy scrap of handkerchief on the side table and took it to her. ‘He promised you diamonds when you broke up with him?’ I asked. I wasn’t daft enough to word it to sound as though he had dismissed her.
‘Of course.’ She reared upright, with no sign of tears on her powdered cheeks. ‘But I would not be swayed. Even so, they were promised to me.’
‘He was a meticulous man,’ Luc said. ‘Doubtless he made a memorandum of his intentions.’
‘Indeed.’ She nodded graciously to Luc. Not to me. ‘Did you say murdered? By whom? It was a duel?’
At last, some natural curiosity: I wasn’t expecting concern. ‘No, not a duel. The killer is unknown. Why did you think of a duel?’
‘Over me, naturellement.’
I managed not to roll my eyes. ‘Other than most understandable envy at Lord Tillingham’s er, friendship, with you, can you think who might have a motive to kill him?’
Again, the shrug, with associated heaving and quivering. I was going to have to get Luc out of there before his blood pressure went off the scale. ‘I have no idea.’
‘He did not mention anyone making threats against him? Any strange occurrences? He must have confided in you.’
‘No. He did not waste time talking when he was with me.’ The purr was back.
‘In that case, thank you for your time, Madame,’ Luc said. He had to clear his throat first, I noticed. ‘We will not take up any more of it.’
She waved us out gracefully enough, although still with a calculating glint in her eyes as she looked at Luc.
‘Thank goodness you had a bodyguard,’ I said as we stood outside again. ‘I could see her adding you to her shopping list. An earl is an advance on a viscount, never mind the fact that you are far more handsome, and certainly more interesting, than poor Tillingham.’
Luc grinned. ‘Not the most restful female I have ever encountered. A stroll in the park?’ He crooked his arm and turned away from St James’s Street. ‘What was your judgment on her truthfulness?’
‘I just do not know,’ I confessed, sliding my hand into the familiar, comforting angle of his elbow. ‘Either she is exactly what she seems, a totally self-centred person who takes no interest in anyone beyond what they can do for her, or she knows far more than she is saying but is exceedingly good at concealing it.’ Luc give a hum of agreement, so I pressed him for his opinion. ‘By all accounts Lord Tillingham was a serious man. Why should he fall for Madame Vaillant, of all people?’
‘Because he was not interested in her conversation?’ Luc suggested. ‘He was an earnest and controlled man, by all accounts, but perhaps he enjoyed the complete opposite when it came to his carnal pleasures.’
‘That does seem logical.’ I agreed. We emerged from a narrow passageway onto Queen’s Walk, the wide footpath that ran along the eastern edge of Green Park. ‘She would have to be a very fine actress to carry off that air of high-flown drama all the time and yet be able to stab a man in such a controlled, economical manner. If she was furious because he had discarded her, the manner of his killing does not ring true. If she has some other motive, then I confess, I cannot think what it might be.’
‘Shall we sit and consider what else we can do before the inquest?’ Luc suggested, dusting down a bench for me to sit in the shade of a lime tree.
‘Let’s hope it gives us some more lines of enquiry,’ I said, a feeling of pessimism creeping over me. ‘I just cannot believe Adrien had anything to do with this. What would be his motive? As for his sickly uncle, he appears to have been ill for years and I can’t for the life of me imagine why he should suddenly decide he wanted the title for himself. If it is linked to the inheritance, then we are left to suppose that Adrien’s father committed cold-blooded murder to secure the title. But again, why now?’
‘Because Tillingham was about to marry a heathy young bride who might well supply him with an heir within a year of the wedding,’ Luc said. ‘The timing has to be significant, surely? Unless Alexander has the stomach for slaughtering infants, there goes his hopes of the title.’
‘Hmm. What about the footman who was dismissed without a character? He would know about Tillingham’s habits – working undisturbed for hours, the open window with access to the terrace, which in turn can be reached from the mews behind.’
‘Again, it seems a very calm, considered crime for someone who must have been motivated by anger and resentment,’ Luc said. ‘But I agree, it would be worth tracking the man down to talk to him. He may tell us more about the household than the remaining servants are