Sophia scratched the side of her face. Who had been wearing Harold’s signet ring, if not Harold?
And a suspicion arose within her.
Dudley.
Is it Harold?
As soon as Sophia could make her excuses to the duchess, she stepped into the foyer and took a deep breath. She needed to speak with Dev.
They’d not been alone together since that day before the funeral at Prescott House.
Feeling tired, out of sorts, and sickly, Sophia had avoided him by remaining in her chamber much of the time. This way she could keep herself from reaching out to touch him, from moving close to inhale his scent. When they were in the same room with one another, usually only during the evening meal, she found it difficult to keep her gaze from following his every move.
But the duchess was always nearby, watching her carefully, urging her to eat, ready to take her for a brief stroll through the gardens for some fresh air.
Sophia entered the study quietly, her heart fluttering when she caught sight of his dark head bent over the sheet of paper he studied. “Dev,” she said in a near whisper, closing the door behind her. “Where is the body?”
“It’s not in any condition—” he began.
“It’s not Harold,” Sophia said. She had a feeling about this. “I need to look at it. I think I know who it is.”
Dev’s eyebrows rose at her statement.
Her stiff crepe skirts rustled as she crossed the room toward him.
Dev stood, belatedly observing his manners. “But how can you?” He must have thought she’d gone mad, for really, how could she have any idea as to the identity of a body that had washed up weeks after their departure.
When Sophia reached the desk, she put both of her hands on the polished wood and leaned across it so that he would hear her words. She would whisper them, for she was coming to discover that the walls of the Prescott estates had ears. “It may be Dudley.”
Dev indicated for her to sit before dropping once again into his own chair. “But he was never at Priory Point.”
“He was! Well, I believe so anyhow. On the day of Harold’s accident, after Penny gave me some sort of sleeping draught. When I awoke, I didn’t see him again, and I’d come to believe that perhaps I’d dreamed it. I used to have these nightmares, you see… But I think that perhaps it was not a dream after all. I think Dudley came into my room, using the adjoining door from Harold’s chamber. I was surprised, and the drug was already affecting me, but Rhoda interrupted him. She entered the room, realized what he was about, and took him out to assist in the search. I did not see him after that, and nobody ever mentioned his arrival. But he’d been in Harold’s chamber, and I would not put it past him to steal a deceased man’s possessions.”
“So, you think he might have stolen the ring and then met with an accident of his own?” Dev leaned back in his seat, considering what she told him. “Did Miss Mossant ever mention seeing him again after that?” He frowned.
Sophia shook her head. “No, Rhoda and her mother left before the funeral. There was no reason to discuss it with her, and really, at that point I considered I’d imagined it or dreamed it.”
“The ice carriage is being driven around to the back of the house. I will view the body first, and if there is anything about it that could possibly be identifiable, I will allow you to view it as well.” He looked grim. “The last I’d heard of young Mr. Scofield, he’d gone down to Brighton for a few weeks. Your recollection would explain why he’s not yet returned to London.”
Sophia appreciated that Dev took her suspicion seriously.
“What with the danger he presents, I feel it is as important to establish whether or not the body is his, as it is to verify that the body is not Harold’s. Only one way to do this.” He stood and offered her his arm. “As much as this goes against my better judgment, I think it best we address this unpleasant task this afternoon.”
Tucking her hand into his elbow, Sophia tilted her chin up stubbornly. “Let’s get this over with then.”
They’d removed the body from the carriage into a building that was half-buried behind the stables. It was tucked away, dug partially into the earth, and most likely normally used as a cellar of some sort. Dev suggested Sophia wait outside while he disappeared down the dark steps.
Waiting patiently, Sophia noticed for the first time that the sunlight was no longer the bright white light of summer. It had that subtle golden tint to it that signified the onset of autumn. When had this occurred? Where had summertime gone?
She breathed in deeply, preparing herself for death to enter their lives once again.
When Dev reappeared, a scowl marred his features.
Brushing dirt from his hands, he announced, “I’m somewhat confident that the body down there, whoever it may be, is most definitely not Harold.”
“So, it is intact?”
Dev did not answer her question directly. “It must have been in the salt water for a considerable length of time, preserving various fragments. However, his flesh was not immune to creatures of the sea, and it suffered further decomposition most likely after washing ashore.”
