A hand closed around my upper arm and spun me around. I brought the knife up at the same time I swept the feet out from under my attacker the way Mikaela had taught me.
My attacker hit the ground with a string of curses in the Scots, and a sharp blue gaze met mine in the light from a nearby lantern.
“Wot the devil?” he snapped.
I stared down at Munro, sprawled at my feet. “A man ran this way. Did ye see him?”
Six
“What did ye see?”Brodie asked Lily, as we gathered in the first-floor library at Marlborough House.
It was well past midnight, and needless to say, the birthday celebration for the Prince of Wales had taken a deadly turn.
Most of the guests had departed, their drivers crowding the courtyard at the main entrance as word reached them.
A physician had been summoned, but there was nothing to be done for the poor young man who had tragically fallen over the balustrade of the stairway from the second floor. A “dreadful accident” the guests whispered among themselves as they departed.
A police van had arrived and taken the young man’s body to a private mortuary. The Prince of Wales stood with a hand on the shoulder of his old friend, Sir Huntingdon, who sat at a table, his head hung in disbelief; Lady Huntingdon in the private drawing room, currently being attended by the physician.
“I don’t understand.” Sir Huntingdon looked up at the man he’d known since their university days who would one day be king. The barriers had been dropped with the horrific event of the evening.
Brodie and I had been asked to join the Prince of Wales and Sir Huntingdon in the library, along with Lily and Munro. I looked over at Lily. She sat quietly at a side table in the library with Munro nearby.
She had shown amazing composure when Munro had escorted her back to Marlborough House after that encounter near the stables.
In the chaos and horror among the guests, it did seem that she was the one person who had gotten a good look at the man who assaulted young Huntingdon.
“An accident?” Sir Huntingdon exclaimed, incredulous, his voice breaking. “How could this happen?”
He shook his head, his hand resting on the note with that chilling message that was found inside his son’s coat:
And then there was one…
“Young Salisbery, and now this? What does it mean?” he asked with the grief of a father who has just lost a son, still unable to comprehend what had happened.
I saw the look that passed between Brodie and the Prince of Wales.
“There are matters to be discussed,” his Highness replied with the familiarity of a long-time friend.
“However, not tonight,” he added. “You must see to your wife. Take her home. We will speak of this tomorrow.”
Not precisely an order to be obeyed, but most definitely not a conversation they would have now. Prince Edward nodded to Sir Knollys.
“You will please escort Sir Huntingdon so that he may join Lady Huntingdon, and you will inform the Royal Guard that they are needed immediately.”
In that way that Sir Knollys had served the Prince of Wales for some time, it was obvious that Sir Huntingdon and his wife were to have protection as they returned home.
After they left, His Highness turned once more to Brodie and me.
“I will send word to Lord Salisbery. For now, it is best that the other guests believe that it was an accident.”
Brodie informed His Highness what we had learned so far, which was very little. However, two deaths in a matter of weeks? That first note and now another one?
Coincidence? Hardly, I thought. There could be no doubt that it was murder.
Obviously the two incidents were connected. But how? And what did it mean?
“It would seem, yer Highness, that young Salisbery’s death was not due to robbery. Yet there is little to go on to find who is behind this.” He picked up the note from the table.
