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across from Lavinia and sat.
    Looking at her now, he had the uneasy feeling she was practiced at conveying the exact image she wished to convey. Her hair powder had been reapplied, and her morning dress was subdued yet fashionable and fitted. No one would suspect she’d been gambling all night—proving he could trust neither eyes nor instinct.
    He stood and returned to the window. “The coroner’s inquest is to convene this afternoon at The Red Lion Inn.”
    “Not that I wish to put an end to all this lovely distress,” the duchess sighed, “but Vaile’s murder could be as simple as a robbery.”
    He paced to the fireplace and then back to the window. “The constable questioned Vaile’s housekeeper. She insisted nothing was missing. I would advise Lady Vaile to prepare for all possibilities.”
    “Max,” Lavinia said, “you must sit in a proper chair.”
    Come. Sit. Stay. Go.
    “Call me Mr. Harrison, Lady Vaile. Let us keep to formalities.”
    Lavinia paled to ghostly white.
    “We do not wish to arouse speculation regarding our relationship,” he added, swallowing regret.
    “I did not kill my husband, Mr. Harrison. And without false witnesses, no one can prove I did.”
    “Can you prove for certain that you did not?” Max asked. “Were you here the whole of last night?”
    Sophia responded, “She was in town,” at the same time Thea said, “She was here with me.”
    Thea cleared her throat. “Before our soiree, Lavinia was with me, in town.”
    Max glanced to the ceiling, shook his head, and then fixed on Lavinia. “Is there anyone who can truthfully verify your whereabouts?”
    Lavinia placed a hand over Thea’s. “I joined the soiree much later than usual. I was…” She blinked. “I was alone.”
    She held something back. Hell, she held everything back.
    “Last night, you said that Vaile may have died in the manner you threatened. I want the truth. Did you threaten him with a gun?”
    “Yes.” Lavinia’s eyes sparkled and two bright blotches of red colored her cheeks. “I pointed a gun between his legs and promised if he came for me, I would shoot him through his cock.”
    Max near doubled over. You could have trusted me. Without question — and clearly to his peril .
    “Why?” he demanded.
    The duchess huffed. “What do you think, Mr. Harrison? Do you think a man like Vaile would just allow his wife to abandon his home? She had no choice but to make him fear a painful death.”
    Max glanced to Lady Sophia. She sat as still as hot July air, carefully taking his measure.
    “I begin to understand why they call you Furies,” he said under his breath.
    When he’d seen her shock, he had been certain—so certain—that she hadn’t had a part in Vaile’s death. But truly, was there reason to be certain of anything where Lavinia was concerned? He’d call her a changeling, if he believed in Elfhame.
    “Let us begin again,” he said. “Can you think of anyone else who wished Vaile harm?”
    “Why naturally, Mr. Harrison.” Lavinia looked up, her eyes swimming with hate. “I had the greatest cause. The wife everyone believed he had left penniless. The wife he had humiliated. Am I not the vicious Lady Vice?”
    The duchess seated herself beside Lavinia and wrapped her arm about Lavinia’s shoulders. “Vice, yes, but flanked by Decadence and Scandal.”
    Lavinia smiled halfheartedly at the duchess.
    “How about the heir—would he be suspect?” Max asked.
    “Vaile has no heir,” Lavinia replied. “The title dies with him or, I suppose, with me.”
    “You are yet young,” he said.
    Her eyes darkened. “I will never place myself in the hands of a man again.”
    We will see , he nearly answered, hating an impossible but infuriatingly persevering insistence she could still be his.
    Lady Sophia cleared her throat. “The family history is this—Vaile’s father, the first Baron Vaile, was the marquess of Elmbrooke’s younger brother but he was given a separate title for service