The Prince in the Tower by Lydia M Sheridan

following, but led the way to the door.  Her tactic was wasted on her opponent. 
    “About the Cavalier, my lady,” the major gritted his teeth audibly.  “Or I should say, the man dressed as that common thief known as the Grey Cavalier--”
    “Yes?”  Kate managed to sound slightly bored.
    “It doesn’t strike you as odd that someone of that description was seen standing over the body?”
    “Everything about this appalling tragedy strikes me as odd, Major Goodwillie.  I am not so used to killing as are you,” she said coldly.  “Now you will excuse me, gentlemen.  Curtis will be happy to show you out.”  Which was an understatement if she’d ever heard one.
    But Major Goodwillie would not be rushed.
    “Lady Katherine, do you know the whereabouts of your brother at this moment?
    She blinked in confusion.  “Certainly.  He is in his bedchamber asleep, or was before the doorknocker sounded at such an hour.”
    “And where was he earlier this evening?”
    “He was here, of course.  May I ask why--”
    “But you said you were attending a sickbed this evening.  How would you know where he was?”  He said this gleefully, as if he had caught her in a lie.
    Kate took a step forward, her eyes blazing, her hands clenched to fists.  “I do not have to know the earl's whereabouts each and every moment of the day to know that he did not kill Mr. Weilmunster.”
    The Major handed the notebook to the nice young officer.  He jerked his head and the man took out a stubby pencil and began scribbling.  “Where they on good terms?  Did your brother-- the earl --” he matched her tone snide for snide, “--like Mr. Weilmunster?”
    “ They were fast friends.”
    The Major smirked, his lip curling in a sneer.  “How interesting.  According to my sources, your brother and the deceased did not like one another in the least.  In fact, did he or did he not bodily throw Mr. Weilmunster out of the house several evenings ago?”
    Kate’s temper rose ever higher, and with it her voice became more quiet, more precise.  “Really, Major, Bertie is just a boy.  How could he throw a grown man out bodily?”
    Major Goodwillie strode about the room.  His big hands picked up the miniature of her grandparents on the sideboard.  She itched to grab it out of his sweaty palms.  He swung about suddenly.  “Come clean, madam!  Your brother hated Adam Weilmunster!  He felt Weilmunster was being rude to his family and had him removed from the premises!  Adam Weilmunster threatened your sister with harm!  Come, come,” he tried to smile, but it was a smarmy effort at best.  “You and I both know how these things happen.  Your brother hated Adam Weilmunster.  Mr. Weilmunster disliked your brother, for he saw in your brother the impediment to his marriage to Lady Lucy.”
    “My brother is not of an age to consent or not to consent to an engagement.  We are in the guardianship of our Uncle Richard.”
    “They loathed one another.  Finally, Bertie cracked.  He saw Mr. Weilmunster, took his opportunity, and killed him on the bank of the river.  But the river was running low tonight and the body didn’t sweep away as he’d planned.”  The Major was losing his composure, with flecks of spittle flying from his red lips.  “He hated him, didn’t he?  I propose to you, madam, he hated Adam Weilmunster enough to kill him!”
    Kate had had enough.  This man was as close to a lunatic as made no difference.  “I hated Adam Weilmunster enough to kill him, major, though I assure you I did not.”  She looked him up and down.  “There are many people one might want to kill, but one seldom does.  More’s the pity.”
    “We shall see.  I shou ld like to question the earl .”
    “Certa inly not.  This charge made out of whole cloth.  Without a warrant, I order you to leave this house before I call the law.  My solicitor will certainly hear about your appalling behavior in the morning.”
    While sh e