Murder in Black Tie by Sara Rosett

Author:Sara Rosett
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sara Rosett
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

“Mr. Payne was your husband? You mean—you’re divorced?”

My mind spun with questions. Did Father know? He couldn’t. He’d never marry a divorcée. Even though he’d retired from serving as a vicar, I knew there were certain standards he felt an obligation to uphold.

Sonia jumped as if someone had dropped an icicle down her collar. “No.” Her gaze skittered around the garden. “I’m not divorced.” She’d lowered her voice to a whisper on the word divorced as if the word itself was abhorrent.

“Then I don’t understand.”

She threw me an irritated glance as she pushed away from the fountain and strode a few steps. I thought she was about to stalk off and leave me there, but she stopped by a stone bench. “I knew it was Simon the moment he walked into the drawing room.”

“Simon?” Perhaps she was sick—not physically ill, but maybe something was a little off . . . mentally. “Why don’t we sit down on this bench for a moment?” I’d always found her irritating, but I’d never doubted her sanity.

She flicked her fingers in an impatient gesture. “I’m not confused. The man who died in the conservatory wasn’t Vincent Payne. He was Simon Adams. Simon was impersonating Vincent.” She blew out another breath as if she had just completed a long hike up a difficult trail. “It’s a complicated story.”

She seemed to be in her right mind. She was speaking evenly, not ranting or over-excited. I did want to hear what Sonia thought had happened, so I said, “I’m in no rush to get back to the house.”

“I suppose I’d better start at the beginning—years ago when the three of us were children living in the same village,” Sonia continued in her flat tone. “Vincent Payne, Simon Adams, and I grew up in Clifton Green.”

I shook my head. “I haven’t heard of it.”

“It’s a tiny village in Surrey. Vincent Payne—the real Vincent Payne—lived with his uncle, who was the largest landowner for miles around. Simon’s father was the greengrocer. My father was a doctor. Vincent was quite shy and reserved. Simon was always joking and laughing, and he could make the silliest faces.” Her expression softened. “When we grew up, Simon and I, we . . . well, we thought we were in love and wanted to marry.”

Sonia tested the marble bench for dampness, then eased herself down onto it. “My father forbade Simon and me to marry, of course. He would have accepted Vincent Payne as a son-in-law, but not the greengrocer’s son.”

My mind reeled as I sat on the next bench over, barely noticing the chilliness of the stone. It was difficult to imagine Sonia in a Romeo and Juliet situation—much less as a rebellious young woman.

“We married,” Sonia said, her voice flat. “We were old enough. We moved to London, and Simon found a job working for a greengrocer.” She stared at the empty flowerbeds for a moment. “Unfortunately, my father was right. We weren’t suited. It became apparent after a few years. We fought constantly.

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