He was missing something here, Toby was sure of it. Yes, Liberty would be upset if someone died from Bidham, but he had a feeling there was more to this.
“Did you know Sally well, my lady?” Anthony asked Liberty.
“Not well—”
“Lady Liberty sent a doctor to care for her when she was poorly. Then visited regularly to ensure Sally got everything she needed to get better,” Helen whispered.
“How did she die?” Liberty asked, her voice brittle now.
Helen looked down at the cup before her, and Toby knew she wasn’t really seeing it. “She was found with her hands and feet bound,and it is believed she was strangled,” Helen whispered.
He kept his eyes on Liberty as her maid spoke. He saw her flinch and then lower her eyes too. He wanted to touch her but had lost that right. When she raised her head, she was every inch the duke’s daughter she’d been born to be. No emotion showed on her face.
Toby knew he played the part well. The carefree peer, the charming viscount women adored, who kept everyone but a chosen few at arm’s length. But watching Liberty struggle to mask her pain twisted something in his chest. He didn’t want that. Didn’t want to feel.
“Poor Sally; her family must be devastated,” Liberty said with a calm he knew she was not feeling. One hand was clenched into a fist in her lap.
“Yes, they are,” Helen said.
“Did your mother say anything else, Helen?” Toby said working through what he already knew about Bidham.
“She didn’t.”
“I think someone is threatening the village,” Liberty said.
“Why do you think that?” he asked. It had been the conclusion Toby had come to as well.
“After seeing what Sydney was unloading today,” she added. “Whoever is behind it must be using the route through the village, and perhaps—”
“You can’t know that, and nor should you involve yourself in this,” Toby interrupted her. His voice came out harsher than he’d intended, and the narrowing of Liberty’s eyes told him she’d heard it.
“You have no say in what I do.” Her chin didn’t lift at these words, but to him it was implied.
She then reached for her cup and knocked it sideways. Toby caught it just before the contents spilled.
“Where are your eyeglasses?” he demanded. “Why, if you need them, don’t you wear them?”
She glared at him, picked up the cup and sipped without answering.
“Just watch you don’t walk in front of a carriage,” he snapped.
“I would have thought that would be a relief to you, Lord Corbyn. After all, we know how coldhearted and ruthless you can be around people who you once pretended to care for.” Liberty regained her feet after delivering these terse words. “Come along, Helen. There is a tea shop on the next street. I believe the company will be more preferable.”
Toby also rose. “I want to be informed if you hear anything.” His words were as cold as hers now.
“I’ll tell you what you can do, Lord Corbyn.” She then leaned in close. He took a deep breath and instantly his head was filled with her scent. Soft, subtle, but with a hint of something stronger. Orange blossom, Toby thought. “You can go to hell.”
“Again? I believe you’ve already told me to go there, my lady?”
They were close now. He could see the rapid beat of her pulse in her throat, and the flare in those pretty eyes. Made brighter by the matching ribbons of her bonnet, tied neatly under her chin.
“Such a shame you do not take orders well then, Lord Corbyn.” She turned and walked away with her maid on her heels.
Toby watched her, his eyes on the straight line of her spine until she’d left the chocolate shop. Only then did he sit once more.
“Seeing as they didn’t touch their food, we could—”
“Absolutely not. You’re a bloody marquis,” Toby snapped, interrupting Jamie. “You cannot eat off another table.”
