Good Earl Gone Bad (11 page)

“Put your veils on and let's go,” he said without preamble. Wordlessly the three ladies waited for him to scan outside the door to ensure there were no passers-by, and when he gestured for them to follow, they did.

It was the most subdued he'd ever seen Hermione and he wondered what sort of thoughts were going through her head. It was difficult to face death for the first time. He'd lost the contents of his stomach upon seeing his first corpse. And was rather shocked that a lady, even one as hardy as Hermione, had been able to keep hers.

When they reached the street outside, the urchin he'd had watching his horse while he went inside stepped forward, reins in hand.

Tossing a coin the boy's way, he said, “There's another half crown for you if you will wait a few more moments while I see these ladies off.”

With a grunt of assent, the boy pocketed the coin and led Hector back down the street.

“I take it that was your carriage at the end of the street, Mrs. Lisle?” he asked, with a nod toward where the coachman waited for them.

At Leonora's assent, he said, “Walk as if you are merely on a quiet stroll, ladies. You are sisters in mourning and as such are subdued.”

“What will you do?” Hermione asked in a low voice as he followed behind them. “It cannot be known that I was here. He took my horses from me yesterday. The authorities will almost certainly suspect me if they learn I was inside the house.”

“I have no intention of informing them that you were anywhere in the vicinity,” Jasper responded, understanding well why she was worried. “If no one else saw the three mysterious ladies entering Lord Saintcrow's home, then you will be safe from scrutiny. But it wasn't wise of you to come here. Even disguised as you were. It will hardly take a great leap of imagination to guess that at least one of the heavily veiled ladies who visited him today was the same lady from whom he wrested her prize coaching pair the day before.”

“If I had known he'd be dead I would not have done so,” Hermione said in a low hiss, turning slightly to glare at him from beneath her veil. At least, he thought she'd be glaring given her tone of voice. “But I can hardly go back in time and undo it.”

He considered pointing out that if she'd behaved with propriety in the first place, there would be no need for her to undo anything, but decided it was not the time.

“No, you cannot. I simply wished to point out that there is a good chance you'll be suspected of having visited him at least, and murdered him at worst.” When he heard his own words, he winced a little at the harshness of them. But it was nothing more than the truth. And Hermione did have a preference for plain speaking, if nothing else.

“I am well aware of that, my lord,” she bit out. “But the fact remains that I had nothing to do with the man's death, and Leonora, Ophelia, and I were well within the bounds of propriety by calling upon him together. We might have been a little forward, but hardly beyond the pale.”

By that time they'd reached the end of the street where the Lisle carriage waited.

Not bothering to argue with Hermione, Jasper handed first Leonora, then Ophelia, and finally Hermione into the vehicle. Leaning inside before he shut the door, he said in a low voice, “Remain home until you get word from me. You should both go about your normal business, to keep yourselves from suspicion.”

“What will you do about … his lordship?” Hermione's voice broke before she said the words, and the reminder of her vulnerability made Jasper wince at his earlier harsh words.

“I'll get word to the right people,” he said softly. “I know it was frightening, what you saw. But there was nothing you could have done. He was gone before you arrived. Now I suggest the three of you get some rest and try to forget about what you saw.”

“Easier said than done, my lord,” said Hermione with a shake of her head. “But we will try.”

Having to content himself with that, Jasper shut the carriage door and nodded to the coachman that he could depart.

 

Eight

With assurances to Leonora and Ophelia that she would inform them if she learned anything further about Saintcrow's death, Hermione closed the door of the rented Upperton town house and hurried upstairs to scrub away the memory of the afternoon's horror in a steaming bath.

She was staring sightlessly out her bedchamber window toward the back garden when she heard a shout from the direction of the neighboring yard.

The Fleetwoods' garden.

Mindful of her promise to Mainwaring not to go near her neighbors, she was, however, grateful for the distraction from the events of the morning. So she watched with interest as a lady and a gentleman stood arguing near the gate of the neighboring yard. It was too far away to tell if the gentleman was Mr. Fleetwood, though the build looked right. His hair was obscured by his hat, however, and as she hadn't ever met Miss Fleetwood there was no way to know if it was her neighbor's sister she saw now.

She knew they argued because of the vehement gesticulations on the part of the lady, and something about the way the man held himself. It wasn't a happy conversation—that was certain. And Hermione, wondering if their enmity had something to do with Mainwaring's warnings against the Fleetwoods, watched fascinated and horrified as the gentleman took the lady by the shoulders and shook her.

And, as she watched, the man in the garden pulled his companion closer and, to Hermione's surprise, dipped his head and appeared to kiss her.

Yes, she thought, watching wordlessly as the lady's arms wrapped around the gentleman's shoulders and seemed to pull him closer, they were most definitely embracing. Either that man wasn't Mr. Fleetwood or the lady was not his sister.

“Your bath's ready, my lady.”

Hermione leaped up in alarm at her maid's voice. Her cheeks reddened at being caught spying on her neighbors. And reluctantly, she turned away from the scene below. “Yes, thank you, Minnie.”

Determined not to look down again, she pulled the curtain closed and hurried into the dressing room where she allowed Minnie to help her undress and sank into the fragrant hot water.

But once she was alone with her thoughts, it wasn't the embracing couple next door she remembered, but the face of the deceased Lord Saintcrow. Despite her anger with him yesterday morning, she had not wished the man dead. And certainly not in such a violent manner.

He'd seemed so vital. So alive. It was shocking to think all that vigor had been snuffed out in the space of a day.

Had it been simply a thief who'd killed him? Someone who was caught in the act of robbing his lordship and panicked?

Recalling the gaping wound in Saintcrow's throat, Hermione doubted it. One didn't slit someone's throat out of surprise. Indeed, she thought, turning her mind to the puzzle of it, one would need to get behind the victim to do such a thing. It was possible that the killer had heard Saintcrow coming and hid somewhere, only leaping out once the man's back was turned to inflict the wound. But somehow she didn't think it had happened that way.

There hadn't seemed to be any sign of struggle. Perhaps the killer had been known to his lordship. Had seemed innocuous enough for poor Lord Saintcrow to turn his back on him. And then when he wasn't looking, the killer had made his move.

Despite the heat of the bath, Hermione shivered. It would take a great deal of anger to make someone want to kill another in such a personal way. She'd been as angry at the man as she had ever been at another human being—with the exception of her father, of course—and yet, she'd never considered doing such a thing. Stealing her grays back, yes. Murder? Absolutely not.

Recalling her grays, she sat up in the tub. What would happen to them now that Lord Saintcrow was dead?

Not waiting for Minnie to return to help her out, she stood and wrapped herself in the toweling the maid had left beside the tub. On bare feet, she padded across the thick carpets into her bedchamber and the small writing desk there.

When her note was finished she rang for Minnie, asking her to give the note to a footman and have him deliver it posthaste.

Mindful that she shouldn't let on that she knew what had happened to Saintcrow lest for some reason the note were intercepted, she'd only requested that Lord Mainwaring do what he could about her poor horses. He had already done so much for her—unbidden, but even so—that she felt slightly guilty asking for one more favor. But she rather supposed he'd prefer that she follow his orders to stay home instead of going to see about the horses on her own.

When had her life become so complicated?

Only yesterday she'd been pleased to begin her tenure as a member of one of London's foremost driving clubs. And now she was without her precious horses, she'd seen the man who won them dead, and spied on one or (shudder) both of her neighbors engaged in an illicit embrace. And to top it all off, she had kissed the Earl of Mainwaring.

It really was not to be borne.

*   *   *

After reporting Saintcrow's death to the magistrate, Jasper went to Brooks's in search of Trent and Freddy.

Since Lord Upperton had so recently lost an estate as well as his daughter's horses to Saintcrow, it was likely that suspicion would fall upon him. Or, worse, upon Hermione.

And, since he knew Hermione hadn't killed the man, he needed to speak to his future father-in-law to determine whether he'd been the culprit. Given Saintcrow's involvement in the theft ring, it seemed unlikely, but he needed to question Upperton all the same. Before the magistrate's investigators did if at all possible.

Trent and Freddy he wanted for moral support. It wasn't every day one questioned one's prospective in-laws about murder.

“Thank God!” Trent said as Mainwaring approached the table where the duke and Freddy were reading the papers. “This fellow has been boring me to death with his constant praise of married life. I suppose I should expect something similar from you any day now, but you can't be there yet since you only won your bride last evening, so you'll do for a diversion.”

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Freddy said with a grin as Jasper took a seat at their table. “It's not every day a man wins his bride's hand in a game of cards, Mainwaring. Well done! Though I have a feeling Lady Hermione is not going to be best pleased with the news.”

“An understatement,” Jasper said grimly, indicating to the hovering waiter that he'd like a glass of claret. “I haven't told her yet, but then she was busy this morning stumbling over dead bodies and the like.”

Quickly, he told the other two about what had gone on at Saintcrow's house that morning, being sure to tell Freddy that Leonora had been there but was well enough when he'd sent them on their way.

Even so, Freddy was not best pleased to hear his wife had been involved. “She is not feeling her best at the moment,” he said. “I would have thought that now of all times she'd choose to avoid madcap stunts like this.”

Jasper and Trent exchanged speaking looks.

“In the family way, is she?” Trent drawled, as Freddy stood.

Biting back a laugh as his friend's expression warred between worry and pride, Jasper said, “Congratulations, old man!”

Giving himself over to self-satisfaction, Freddy grinned. “Indeed she is,” he said proudly. “But she'd been devilishly ill. Which is why I'm so angry she allowed the other two to persuade her to go to that scoundrel's house. I realize Hermione wants her horses back, but was it really necessary to involve Leonora in her schemes?”

Jasper rather thought that Leonora would take exception to her husband's assessment of her ability to make her own decisions, but forbore from pointing it out given Freddy's understandable protectiveness.

“I suspect Leonora would have had her guts for garters if she'd tried to embark on the errand without her,” Trent said, having no such compunction.

To his credit, Freddy didn't disagree. “You're likely right. She's scolded me more than once about trying to wrap her in cotton wool. But it's damned difficult to keep from doing so when she's so damned vulnerable.”

Knowing how he'd felt that morning when he'd learned Hermione had been in Saintcrow's house, Jasper didn't doubt how Freddy felt. It was difficult to put into words just how terrified he'd been to imagine what might have happened if Saintcrow's killer had still been there when Hermione and her friends barged in.

“Go look after your lady,” he said, clapping Freddy on the back, “She seemed well when I sent them off in the carriage, but I have little doubt you'll not be content until you see for yourself.”

“Thanks, old man,” Freddy said with relief, rising. “We'll drink a toast to your own betrothal just as soon as you've had a chance to talk it over with Hermione.”

“You haven't told her yet?” Trent asked, once Freddy was gone. “What the devil?”

“I was going to,” Jasper explained, taking a swig of his wine, “but when I arrived at her house, it was to learn she'd gone off with Leonora and Ophelia. So, I thought to seek out Saintcrow to see if he could be persuaded to give up her horses. Imagine my surprise when I found Hermione and her two best friends terrified in the front entry hall of Saintcrow's house.”

“I might have expected it of Lady Hermione,” Trent said, “but I thought Leonora and Ophelia had more sense than that.”

At Jasper's pointed look, he shrugged. “You have to admit that she's a dashed headstrong filly. Once she takes a notion in her head it's impossible to change it.”

“Might I remind you that you are speaking of my future bride?” Jasper said mildly. He could take umbrage at what Trent was saying about Hermione, but even he had to admit that she was not the meekest of creatures.

“Oh, you know as well as I do what she's like,” Trent said, unrepentant. “The only question is, what will you do to protect her from suspicion?”