“Oh, good! I was unable to gather much aside from his Irish descent, but I can tell you he has been a member of her household since Lord Winter passed on two years ago.”

Two years.

“Also, I find something curious about her relations with her stepfather, Lord Welton.”

“Curious?” Christopher asked.

“Yes, the servant I spoke with mentioned his frequent visits. I find that odd.”

“Perhaps because your relations with your stepfather were less than satisfactory?”

“Perhaps.”

Christopher thrust his arms through the robe his valet held out for him. “Thompson, bring Beth and Angelica to me.”

The valet bowed slightly before doing as he was bid, and Christopher left the dressing room for the sitting area. “What do we know of her finances?” he tossed over his shoulder.

“Not enough at the moment,” Philip answered, following, “but that will be rectified in the morning. She appears flush, so I am curious as to why she feels the need to acquire money in such a gruesome manner.”

“And you reached the conclusion of her guilt with sufficient evidence?”

“Ah…no.”

“I can do nothing with conjecture, Philip. Find proof.”

“Yes, sir.”

Two years. Which proved she was capable of some feeling. A woman did not share the delights of her body with a man for that length of time without caring at least some small measure. “Tell me about Welton.”

“He is a profligate who spends the majority of his waking moments pursing gaming tables and whores.”

“Haunts?”

“White’s and Bernadette’s.”

“Preferences?”

“Hazard and blondes.”

“Well done.” Christopher smiled. “I am pleased with what you accomplished in only a few hours.”

“Your life depends upon it,” Philip said simply. “Were I you, I would have sent someone with more expertise.”