Aidan rose from his chair. “I’m for bed. Mr. Martin will be here early in the morning asking lots of questions. I’ll need a good sleep to keep up with him.”
“I’m looking forward to meeting this Mr. Martin,” Lake said.
“A very smart man, obviously more educated than his kind, but closed mouth on that. Has a kind soul, too. He has a child from the streets that he has taken on as his protégé.
“How did you come to know him?” Arthur asked.
“Sir James and Lady Branstoke recommended him. They’ve worked with him. If they had been here tonight, they would have leaped into the investigation, but they are at their estate in Kent as Lady Branstoke is increasing,” Aidan told them.
“Goodnight, gentlemen,” he said, to an echo ofgoodnightsfrom Malmsby’s modern Knights of the Round Table.
CHAPTER8
BOW STREET
Mr. Harold showed Mr. Martin into the Malmsby House breakfast parlor at half-past eight. Aidan rose as he entered.
He reached out his hand to Mr. Martin. “Good to see you again. But where is Daniel?” Aidan asked, referring to the young mudlark Mr. Martin had taken on as a protege.
“The Earl of Soothcoor took him and some other charity boys to Northumberland for the summer.”
“Northumberland! Being London city boys, I wonder how they will make out—or how Soothcoor will make out,” Aidan said, laughing, trying to imagine the dour Earl of Soothcoor with a handful of young boys. That painting wouldn’t come to life in his mind’s eye.
“He felt he owed them, as they helped rescue his young nephew last December,” Mr. Martin explained.
Aidan nodded. “Well, we are happy you are here. Please sit. Jimmy,” he said to the young footman who stood to the side of the room, “please get a plate for Mr. Martin.” He resumed his seat as Mr. Martin sat as well. “I don’t know what the Duchess told you in her note—”
“Just that there had been an incident at Ellinbourne’s and Miss Hallowell’s betrothal ball last night that could use my help in resolving.”
Aidan snorted. “Anincident! That is an understatement. Parties unknown shot Lord Candelstone.”
“Lord Candelstone shot? I saw nothing in the papers about that this morning,” Mr. Martin said.
“It wouldn’t have made the papers as they did not kill him. They shot him with a small caliber gun last night on the back terrace. Lady Blessingame later found the weapon under a bench on the terrace.”
Mr. Martin put down his coffee and drew a notebook and a pencil stub out of his pocket. “What time did this occur, and where?”
“Fairly early in the ball. The musicians had just taken a slight break and the first seating for supper had been announced. About eleven, I’d say. Candelstone was on the terrace.”
“Was he alone?”
“I don’t know. However, Lady Blessingame had been walking in the garden when she heard the shot and rushed up to the terrace. She found Lord Candelstone and immediately put pressure on the wound to staunch the blood until help could arrive. I think I was first or second there.”
He thought a moment. “Second, there was a young man there before me. I had to push him out of my way. But others quickly followed. People were pouring out on to the terrace or leaning out the ballroom windows to see what was going on.”
“And you say she was the one to find the gun?”
“She had nothing to do with the shooting,” Aidan peremptorily said.
Mr. Martin raised an eyebrow at him. “And how is it you know that?” he asked levelly. “Were you in the garden with the lady?”
“No.”
Mr. Martin silently regarded him.
“I admit, the lady had good reason to want to shoot him, if she was of that nature—as did I last night, as well.” He compressed his lips together. Then sighed out deeply. “She had recently discovered—and told me—she had proof Lord Candelstone had been responsible for our courtship faltering three years ago.”
This time, both of Mr. Martin’s eyebrows pulled upward.
