Lord Ashford's Wager by Marjorie Farrell

a fistful of notes in the air.
    “Lord Ashford?” inquired the Runner.
    “Yes,” said Tony impatiently. Lord, but the man’s face was nondescript and expressionless.
    “I am Gideon Naylor. You are under a misapprehension about the reason for my visit.”
    “I am?”
    “Yes. I am not here to arrest you for debt.”
    “Well, thank God for that,” Tony replied with a smile. “How can I help you, then?”
    “You seem to have a sheaf of notes there. May I ask how you came by them?”
    Tony frowned. “What is this? Has there been a robbery in the neighborhood? Have you come to arrest me for theft?” he added sarcastically.
    “There appears to have been a theft, my lord. But it is on a far more serious matter that I have come. I am investigating the murder of Lady Claudia Fairhaven.”
    Tony looked blankly at Naylor. “Claudia? Why, Claudia can’t be dead. I only saw her last night. Well, actually, early this morning. This is some sort of bad joke, isn’t it?” continued Tony, his voice shaking with shock and anger.
    “I am afraid it is no joke, my lord. Lady Fairhaven was found dead on the library floor this morning by her butler. And according to Mr. Dawson, you were the last person to have seen or spoken with her.”
    Tony sat down suddenly on one of the chairs around his table. “No,” he whispered. He raised his eyes to Naylor pleadingly. “Tell me it is not true.”
    Naylor just stared back, his face expressionless.
    “How…how was she killed?”
    “The coroner has not come to any conclusions yet, my lord.”
    “Please God it was quick,” murmured Tony.
    “The drawers in her late husband’s desk were pulled out, my lord, and appear to have been rifled. May I ask where you got that money?”
    “What? You mean you think it was an attempted robbery?”
    “Not attempted, Lord Ashford. Where did the money come from?”
    The man was persistent, Tony had to give him that. Maybe he just wore suspects down, rather than threatening them.
    “I won some of it the night before last and the rest Claudia—Lady Fairhaven—gave me last night.”
    The Runner pulled out a small notebook and pencil. “Where did you win, my lord, and how much?”
    Tony hesitated, and then said, “I can’t tell you.”
    “Oh, come, my lord, this is a murder investigation. I can easily find out what hells you frequent, but if you tell me, it will go quicker.”
    “Seventy-five St. James Street. You can ask one of the blacklegs. Boniface. He’ll vouch for me.”
    “And who will vouch for the rest of the money?”
    “Why, Claudia, of course,” Tony answered without thinking, and then, realizing that Claudia would never speak for him or anyone else again, he buried his face in his hands and wept.
    Naylor just waited quietly until Tony’s shoulders were still.
    “Lady Fairhaven’s butler is willing to testify that he heard her very angrily refuse to give you another penny.”
    Tony raised his face, outraged. “Why, that is not true,” he started to protest angrily, and then stopped. He took a deep breath, and running his hand over his face, continued. “Dawson probably did hear Lady Fairhaven say that. I remember when he came in with the brandy we were in the middle of a disagreement. But he left before our conversation concluded.”
    “Conversation or quarrel, my lord?”
    “Disagreement, quarrel, what does it matter? We said good-night on the best of terms. In fact, we were unofficially betrothed,” said Tony bleakly.
    “And we only have your word for it.”
    Tony drew himself up and said haughtily: “The word of a Varden is not given lightly, I assure you, Mr. Naylor.”
    “Be that as it may, I am afraid I must arrest you for the murder of Lady Claudia Fairhaven.”
    “What! You must be out of your mind!”
    “Not at all, my lord. You were the last person to have been seen with Lady Fairhaven. You were overheard quarreling with her over money. And you now have quite a bit of money. You were a soldier on the