A stick broke like a gunshot beneath Henry’s heel.
The man bolted towards the tree line, a distinct limp hampering his speed.
Juliet’s gaze shot to Henry, who stood rigid for barely a beat—but in that beat, there was an unmistakable fury hardening his face and his fists. A rage she’d never dare to stand against. May heaven help the man who’d presumed to stare across that field at Henry’s sister. He’d need all the help he could get.
For without a word, Henry tore after him.
White-hot fury pumped through his veins as Henry sprinted across the dark field. Parker! He might’ve known.
“Hold it right there!” Lunging, he grabbed a handful of Parker’s coat and spun him around.
Parker leaned heavily on his cane, the only thing keeping him upright besides Henry’s death grip. “Unhand me this instant, Russell.”
The words were calm—eerily so—which only validated Henry’s initial suspicions. He gave the man a jaw-rattling shake. “This stops here and now. Do you understand me? I ought to haul you off to the constable this instant.”
Parker wrenched violently, breaking loose and stumbling backwards—then planted his feet, gripping the ebony cane with both hands. With a twist and pull, he unsheathed a hidden rapier from within the shaft. The slender blade caught the festival’s spare light as he leveled its tip at Henry’s chest, his dark eyes twin voids in a skull-like face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now back off.”
Despite the threat, Henry stood his ground. “Do not play the innocent with me. Clearly some sort of guilt is involved here, else you’d not have run from me.”
Parker’s gaze was sharp as a dagger. “When a man is flanked, it is only natural to flee.”
He had a point. Barely. “And yet why would you be standing out here in the dark?”
“Not that it is any of your business, but since my service, crowds have a way of inciting anxiety.”
Plausible.
But far too convenient, particularly since the man had been staring at Charity. Henry grunted. “Listen, Parker, I know you nurse a grudge against my sister for rejecting your hand, and I saw you lurking about in town. You cannot deny this.”
“I do not answer to you. If you have a valid legal complaint against me, I shall happily see you in court. Until then, stay away from me.”
“Youstay away from my sister!”
“Hah! That’s the problem with you Russells. Always thinking you are the center of attention.” He flicked the tip of the rapier, slicing off one of Henry’s coat buttons before sheathing the thing. Once again he used the implement as a cane instead of a weapon as he pivoted into the dark with a lurching grace, the kind nightmares favoured.
Henry narrowed his eyes on Parker’s retreating form, barely keeping from charging after the miscreant and knocking him to the ground.
“Who was that?” Juliet’s voice floated over his shoulder. “And why did you let him go?”
“Edwin Parker.” He spit the name out like a mouthful of soured milk. “Charity’s former beau.”
“Former? Who scorned whom? What is the history here?”
After a last lip-snarling look at the man, he turned to Juliet. “Parker used to be a familiar figure in the Bedford social circle, a frequent visitor to the manor. It was no secret he admired my sister. Initially, my father and I were open to the match. He was a respectable candidate, and if Charity married him, she would remain close to home.”
“Hmm.” Juliet crossed her arms, one finger tapping the crook of her elbow. “Clearly that is not how it played out. What happened?”
“When Parker finally proposed, Charity declined. She told him she valued his friendship—but nothing more. She did not harbour any romantic feelings for him and refused to marry without love. He took it hard. Too hard. For months he wallowed in shame and resentment. We were all glad when his brother persuaded him to join the military, and he left home.”
“Yet now he is back.” Juliet’s gaze slid to where the man’s dark shape struggled over a great hump of field grass and disappeared into the fray of the festival. “And he is likely even more bitter as he has clearly suffered some sort of life-altering injury during his service.”
Indeed. Did the man account that pain to Charity as well?
“So”—Juliet turned back to Henry—“why did you not collar him tonight and press charges?”
He snorted. “Trust me, I wanted to, more than you can possibly know. But what solid evidence do we have against him?”
“Point taken.” She sighed. “So, now what?”
