“Easy to say. In our world, it’s difficult to do,” Gwinnie said with a long, drawn-out sigh.
* * *
Mr. Stillworth looked downat the wrapped and tied bandage about the horse’s hoof and frowned. “How long will it take to heal?” he asked.
Lakehurst shook his head. “I don’t know. We will have to ask Carlyle.”
“Ask Carlyle? Don’t you know he’s deaf?” Mr. Stillworth exclaimed, disgusted.
“Yes, I do,” Lakehurst said placidly. “I also know he reads lips.”
“What?” His astonishment had him looking from Lakehurst to Carlyle and back.
Lakehurst was surprised he did not know this if he’d been to the castle before, which Lady Darkford indicated he had. He tapped Carlyle on his shoulder to get his attention.
Carlyle straightened and looked at Lakehurst, nodding to indicate Lakehurst had his attention.
“How long will his hoof take to heal?”
Carlyle scratched his balding head. “Hard to say, m’lord, but if no abscess sets in, I’ll make a leather shoe to strap on when we takes off the bandages, and he ken be turned out to pasture. A couple more weeks afore he ken be ridden.”
“He needs to go back to the innkeeper in Wells, and I need to get my horse!”
His agitation confused Lakehurst. He saw no reason for it. He frowned at him. “I was intending to send Henry to Wells to pick up some things. He can take a note to the innkeeper explaining the situation and retrieve your horse at the same time. It is not a big issue. These things happen.”
“When can this Henry of yours go?”
Lakehurst crossed his arms over his chest. “By tomorrow I should have a list from the staff of what is needful that is not available in the village.”
“Tomorrow!”
“What is the issue with tomorrow?” Lakehurst asked. “Were you planning to leave today?”
“No, of course not. I just don’t like being without a horse,” Stillworth grumbled, looking down at the horse’s bandaged hoof.
“If you wish to go riding, I can lend you MacKenzie, my horse,” Lakehurst offered.
“No—well, maybe. Sorry, I’m just rattled at how severely the horse is hurt. I had no idea,” he said, smoothing out his irritated features into a semblance of caring.
It was the rapid change from irritation to caring that caught Lakehurst’s attention. It did not strike him as authentic. What else about Mr. Stillworth might also be inauthentic?
“Let’s go back to the castle. I want to show you some of the financial chicanery we found.”
“Yes. That is a splendid idea. I should like to see this evidence to corroborate your statements to Uncle Edmund, or else I know he’ll refuse to believe. Isn’t there a bird from Africa or Australia or someplace like that that hides its head in the sand?” They walked out of the stable and crossed the forecourt.
“I believe you are referring to an ostrich,” Lakehurst offered.
“Yes, that’s the one. Sometimes I think Uncle Edmund is like that bird, hiding his head in the sand.”
“From what I have come to know of Edmund Tidemark, that is most likely true,” Lakehurst said with a slight laugh as they walked into the castle. He led the way to the study where he stopped to unlock the door.
“You keep the door locked?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“First, in here is proof of the Gallaghers embezzlement. Second, we want to make sure all the records are available for the estate steward or whomever they deem appropriate, to audit the financial records of the marquessate. It could be in serious financial difficulties or healthy and profitable. An accountant needs to make that determination.”
