Free Murder on the Marmora by Conrad Allen Page A

Wilmshurst walked within a yard of her without even knowingshe was there. He looked older. When she’d first met him, she had been dazzled by his youthful zest and appearance. That seemed to have faded somewhat, though she did not subject him to any real appraisal. All she allowed herself was a glance at him as he strode past. He still exuded the confidence that had once impressed her. She could see it in his expression and in his bold step. But she felt no lingering affection for the man to whom she had once been engaged. If anything, she felt a mild repulsion. Too many unpleasant memories had surfaced.
    Wilmshurst had not seen her but Walter Dugdale recognized her immediately.
    “Ah!” he said with a throaty chuckle. “There you are, Miss Masefield.”
    “Hello, Mr. Dugdale.”
    Wearing a fur-collared cape and a hat with a tall crown, he looked even more like an amiable wizard. He raised his hat to her then stepped in closer so that she could hear him clearly above the tumult of the engines and the excited chatter from the passengers on deck. Closing one eye, he studied her through the other.
    “Remarkable!” he concluded. “Quite remarkable.”
    “What is, Mr. Dugdale?”
    “You are, Miss Masefield. So is Myra—Mrs. Cathcart, that is. And so, to some degree, is her daughter though she, poor girl, chooses to hide her light under a bushel. All three of you are English roses.”
    “Roses at this time of year? That’s rather perverse gardening.”
    “I was speaking metaphorically,” he said with a smile. “It’s something to do with the shape of the face and the tilt of the head. There’s an endearing Englishness about all three of you. It’s such a pity that Lilian does her best to conceal it.”
    “I don’t think she does it deliberately, Mr. Dugdale.”
    “Maybe not, but the result is the same.”
    “I’m sure that Lilian will mellow as the cruise progresses.”
    “I do hope so,” he said, adjusting his cape around his shoulders. “She’s old enough to stand on her own feet yet she still relies too completely on her mother. I had tea with them earlier. To be honest, I’d planned on being alone with Mrs. Cathcart but the daughter invited herself along as well. It was almost as if she were a chaperone.”
    “I don’t think Myra Cathcart needs a chaperone.”
    “Nor do I.”
    “She has such amazing vitality.”
    He beamed at her. “Do you think I hadn’t noticed that? It’s a shame she can’t spare any of it for Lilian. That daughter of hers could do with it.”
    “Don’t underestimate Lilian,” said Genevieve. “She can be aroused by her passions. I was with her when the royal party came aboard. Lilian was a different person. She suddenly came alive and showed some of her mother’s exuberance.”
    “I’m reassured to hear that.”
    “Give her time, Mr. Dugdale. Her light may shine forth yet.”
    “Unfortunately, my time is limited. In ten days’ time, we arrive in Port Said.”
    “We’re stopping at Marseilles before that, to refuel.”
    “If only we could bring more members of the royal family on board as well.”
    “Why?”
    “Didn’t you say that the monarchy was Lilian’s obsession? They’d be a useful diversion. That way, I might even get to speak to her mother alone.” His expression hardened. “Before he does, that is.”
    “Who?”
    “Karl-Jurgen Lenz. That brooding German. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice how hypnotized he was by Myra Cathcart. Quite rightly, of course,” he went on. “She’s a most striking lady. So open and so … unexpected.”
    “In what way, Mr. Dugdale?”
    “You only have to look at her to see that. She’s
genuine
, Miss Masefield. She’s not one of those gold-diggers who come on cruises like this in pursuit of a rich catch. Goodness!” he exclaimed. “She’d not have her daughter in tow, if she were. A real adventuress would never even admit to
having
a grown-up daughter. That’s why Myra Cathcart is so unusual. She