A clatter of hooves on the cobbles announced the arrival of Harry Dempster. He flung himself easily from the back of his horse, handing the reins to the boy.
‘Good morning, Somerton,’ he said as he approached them. ‘What brings you out to the stables? Are you coming or going?’
Sebastian patted his pocket. ‘Just collecting some lost property.’
‘Lord Somerton was asking me about the night poor Anthony died,’ Lady Kendall said.
‘Oh God, yes. That was the night I called in on my way to Yorkshire. I arrived late and left early. Didn’t hear about Somerton’s death for days. We played a couple of rounds of Loo, if I remember, Georgie?’
‘I was telling Lord Somerton that he seemed quite his normal self.’
‘Took a few coins off me,’ Harry agreed.
The stableboy came forward, leading Pharaoh and Sebastian swung into the saddle. He looked down at Harry and his sister.
‘Why would Lord Somerton have jumped the hedge at Lovett’s Bridge?’ he asked.
Lady Kendall shrugged. ‘It was his customary route home. If you cut across the fields behind the farm, it takes a good fifteen minutes off the journey back to Brantstone Hall. He took that route every time.’
‘Did everyone know that?’
Lady Kendall shrugged. ‘I assume so. It is common local knowledge.’
She raised her hand in farewell as Sebastian swung himself into the saddle. He acknowledged her gesture and kicked Pharoah into a canter, only slowing when he reached Lovett’s Bridge. Here, he paused, considering the shortcut to Brantstone. The horse seemed to sense his discomfort or perhaps, in its own way, it recalled the night Anthony had died. It shifted beneath him, its ears lying flat. Sebastian patted the glossy, black neck.
‘It’s all right, old chap, we’ll take the long way, but I think we’ll pay another visit on our way.’
Chapter Thirty-Nine
‘Am I disturbing you?’
Isabel looked up from polishing the table and her eyes widened. Sebastian stood in the doorway to the dower house, attired in moleskin breeches and an elegant cutaway coat of red wool. He carried a riding crop and gloves and his hair looked windswept, but then it rarely looked tidy even with the best haircut.
She hastily smoothed down her skirts and tried to look like a dowager viscountess, not the hired help. She wore her oldest gown of dark blue cotton gingham with a large apron tied over it. She had tied her hair up in a scarf, and she was sure there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek.
‘No, not at all. Have you been out riding?’ she enquired.
He nodded. ‘I rode over to Fairchild Hall to collect Connie’s necklace.’
‘You could have sent one of the lads,’ Isabel said.
‘I could have done,’ he agreed, ‘but I wanted to go myself.’
The breath left her body as if she had been hit, and she looked down at the duster she held in her hand. Lady Kendall again. Always Lady Kendall.
‘Fortunately, the missing necklace had been found,’ Sebastian added.
‘Connie will be pleased. She seemed very upset this morning at breakfast. What a shame that it spoiled her evening.’
Sebastian nodded, and a slow smile spread across his face.
‘She did very well for her first foray into polite society. I was very proud of her.’
‘I have every confidence in Connie. What brings you here?’ Isabel enquired.
‘You mentioned at breakfast you planned to spend the day at the dower house so I thought I should come and see if there is anything I can do for you.’
She patted her hair and was alarmed to find a spider web adhering to her fingers.
