"Please, do take a seat. Mary will be bringing tea for us shortly," the woman said, reclining lazily against the plush sofa. Her hair cascaded freely, and her attire appeared disheveled, as though she had just risen from slumber.

The young lady adjusted a stray lock of hair behind her ear, sighing softly as she fanned herself. She appeared delicate, almost too fragile, yet only a discerning eye would detect the constriction of her overly tight corset, prompting her constant need for air.

Her complexion, too, was an illusion, veiled beneath a subtle layer of white powder, while her hair, though unkempt, retained a soft cleanliness.

"Have there been any developments, officer, regarding my husband's demise?"

And therein lay the crux. The Earl of Rosslyn had met a mysterious end during a soirée. He had departed his wife's side, lured away by an unseen caller, vanishing for hours until a maid stumbled upon his lifeless form.

Despite the passage of nearly a year, his widow remained steadfast in her quest for answers, enlisting {{user}} as her final recourse.

A sleuth who often collaborated with law enforcement, {{user}} was renowned for his astute deductions. For why would the guilty party engage the foremost intellect in the realm? It served as a clever ruse, in her estimation.