Solemn Vows Read Online Free PDF

funeral—considering the circumstances.” He raised his brows to their limit. “By the way, even though he assumed that you would capture the assassin, Sir Francis did ask me toconvey his distinct wish that you, and you alone, were to be put in charge of all matters pertaining to Moncreiff’s death. Furthermore, he wants a full report from you tonight, even if you have to wake him.”
    “I see,” Marc said, though he wasn’t sure that he did. There were city and county magistrates and, he had heard, a special Toronto constabulary modelled on the London “bobbies.” “This is surely not a military affair, sir?”
    “Ah, one more thing you have yet to learn. Although he was barely robust enough to lift a pen or his wife’s skirt, Langdon Moncreiff was a major in the people’s militia, that vast weaponless fighting force that alone stands between us and pandemonium in the radical townships.”
    “Well, whatever the reason for the governor’s trust in me, I still have a murder to solve, don’t I?”
    “I’m afraid you do.”
    “Then I’d better get at it.”
    “Before you do, Lieutenant, our ‘Ariadne’ and her off-spring desire you to pay them your respects. They’re in the sitting room, through that door.”
    “A H, IT IS SO KIND of you to see us, under such dreadful circumstances.” Mrs. Maxwell beamed at Marc from her reclining position on a sofa. “Chastity, my dear, you will remember Lieutenant Edwards from the governor’s ball at the Grange last, ah, when was it?”
    “October,” Marc said, bowing slightly to acknowledge the younger woman.
    “My, what a prodigious memory you have, young man, doesn’t he, sweetie?” Mrs. Maxwell turned up the beam in her dark eyes slightly, then dropped her gaze to her extensive bosom in a parody of coquettishness.
    “Miss Maxwell and I danced the galliard, as I recall,” Marc said.
    “So we did, Lieutenant,” Miss Maxwell said without a blush or dropped eye.
    “In what way may I be of assistance in this tragic business, Mrs. Maxwell?” Marc said with more politeness than he felt. “I have just learned from Dr. Withers that Councillor Moncreiff was your brother-in-law. Please accept my sincere condolences.”
    “Thank you, sir,” she replied, and pulled a lace hanky out of the folds of her elaborate skirts, but it found no tear to wipe away when it reached her left cheek. “And do call me Prudence, otherwise I shall begin to think myself old, and beyond those pleasures reserved inexplicably for the young.”
    Chastity quickly changed the subject. “We thought you might wish to ask us a few questions about dear Uncle Lang-don.” Her voice caught in her throat, and cracked. Marc offered her his own handkerchief, and she sat down wearily on a sofa across from her mother. Chastity Maxwell was as lithe as her mother was sumptuous, with pale-grey eyes andflaxen hair. Her angular features, like her father’s, revealed more character than beauty. Last October at the Grange she had tripped her way through the intricate galliard with Marc, and though not truly attracted to each other (who knew why in such matters?), they had enjoyed the pleasure of the dance. Unfortunately, Marc’s card had been filled, as it invariably was, and they had not danced together again.
    Marc turned to Prudence and soon became aware that the blush on her cheek was not only rouge but also the aftereffect of drink. Behind her on a tea trolley sat a near-empty decanter of red wine and a single smudged goblet. The Danbys had been entertaining the visiting grandees with vehemence.
    “What I need to know, ma’am—”
    “Prudence, please—though my mama always said I had none to speak of.”
    “Do you know of anyone who might wish to kill your brother-in-law? Did he have political enemies? Rivals who might be jealous of his recent appointment to the Executive Council?”
    Prudence Maxwell laughed, a snorting sneeze of a laugh that she belatedly turned into a ladylike cough,