Read Fencing for Ladies (The Archer Family Regency Romances #5) for Free Online Page B

focusing his attention on her.
    “We have not opened yet. My brother and I were simply here to determine if the building had been cleaned and readied. Clearly, it has not,” Olivia said.
    “So I noticed, my lady,” Constable Cooke said. He clasped his hands behind his back and thrust his head forward to stare at her from under lowered brows. “I also noted that the door to this room was locked.”
    “Yes, I locked it before we went to find assistance,” Olivia answered.
    He looked from her to the wardrobe. “And this?” He waved at the gaping piece of furniture.
    “It was locked, as well. It is always locked. The academy's supplies are kept there.”
    “And what was the condition of this room and that wardrobe when you arrived, my lady?”
    “Locked,” she answered impatiently. Lightning crackled outside the window, followed by a boom of thunder. She jumped with a shiver and rubbed her arms. “I kept them locked, of course.”
    As she spoke, her brother rummaged through the top drawer of her desk and withdrew a phosphorous box. He carefully lit the lamp sitting at the edge of the desk and moved it closer to cast its golden glow over the wardrobe and its terrible contents.
    “And who, may I ask, has keys?” Cooke asked with a satisfied smile and the smug air of someone who knows the answer to his own question. He obviously expected a swift conclusion to his investigation.
    “I naturally have keys, and the charwoman has a key to the house.” Olivia caught her brother's gaze.
    He frowned at her and shoved his hands into his pockets, his shoulders hunching slightly. Concern wrinkled his forehead, and he was beginning to look like a turtle slowly withdrawing into his shell as he stepped closer to the window and out of the wavering circle of light.
    “Does the charwoman's key fit the door to this room? Or the wardrobe, my lady?” Cooke continued his questions.
    Olivia stiffened, hugging one arm around her waist. Her other hand rose, and her fingers fastened on the top button of her pelisse, twisting it. “N-no.” She cleared her throat. “Her key only fits the door at the rear of the house.”
    “So you were the only one with keys to this room and the cupboard, and both were locked when you arrived, my lady?” Constable Cooke's knowing grin widened. He looked almost gleeful at the thought that he might be staring at a murderess.
    “Yes — no.” Olivia laughed nervously as she remembered entering the room. “That is, the door to this room was unlocked. However, the wardrobe was locked. It is a mystery, to be sure. I cannot imagine how he entered without our knowledge.”
    How could someone have locked the wardrobe without a key? She could understand that someone might have picked the locks on the door and the furniture, but how did he lock it again?
    “That is indeed a mystery, to be sure,” Mr. Idleman said in a dry voice.
    Before she could think of a response, she heard the clatter of heavy footsteps coming up the staircase. A straggling group of men entered, and the foremost, the man Mr. Idleman called Mr. Andrews, nodded to the coroner.
    “Here are the jurymen, Mr. Idleman,” Mr. Andrews announced, stepping to one side of the door. As the somber group filed into the room, he called out their names, “Mr. Hanks, Mr. Bulwer, Mr. Samuels, Mr. Wright, Mr. Thompson, Mr. Oakdale, Mr. Thorne, and Mr. Chesterton.”
    Counting the men who'd remained with the coroner, there were twelve, in addition to Mr. Idleman and Constable Cooke.
    The room suddenly felt crowded, and the previously cold and musty air was thick with strange odors of beer, cabbage, sweat-dampened wool, and the metallic smell of drying blood. Olivia coughed and raised her handkerchief. The faint scent of lavender still clung to the material. She held it to her nose and pressed the cool, soft folds to her mouth.
    “Take heed of the floor, Constable,” Mr. Idleman cautioned him. He pointed to the pool of blood. “There are footprints