“You’re his son,” I stated.
Forbes looked haughty, but young Isherwood bowed. “I am Colonel Giles Isherwood. I know you are Captain Lacey. Forgive our rudeness, but we are much agitated today.”
He spoke in quick, polite tones, very unlike his father, who had shouted his opinions to anyone near.
Forbes gazed at me with dislike. He knew my brief history with Isherwood and had always despised me.
I’d removed my hat as I entered the house, but the footman had not taken it, and I turned it around in my hands. “Your father?”
“Dead,” Forbes snapped before Giles Isherwood could answer. “He’s been murdered.”
Chapter 4
Iwatched them as Forbes’s words ended my hopes. “How?” My voice went weak.
Forbes glared in outrage at the question, but Isherwood answered with calm readiness. “He was found at the Pavilion. Stabbed through the heart, with his own cavalry sword.”
I began to shake. “My condolences for your loss,” I made myself say.
“What is your purpose here, Captain?” Forbes snapped. “Come to sneer at this sordid business?”
“To offer my assistance.” I groped for a plausible reason. “I heard a rumor of his death, and I wanted see if it was true.” Not a lie. I absurdly wondered what Mr. Bickley the Quaker would think of my evasion.
“A rumor?” Forbes remained suspicious. “From where? The Regent’s majordomo promised no one would know.”
Isherwood moved past him to me and extended his hand. “It is kind of you to inquire,” he said. “Well met, Captain. You were at supper with my father only last night, were you not?”
Forbes’ words explained why the death hadn’t been in the newspapers, but his expression stated he didn’t agree the murder should have been contained. He’d blurted the news to me without worry, perhaps because he believed I’d committed it. Forbes had always thought the worst of me.
I ignored him and shook young Isherwood’s hand. He had a firm grip, which went with his rather hard face, close-cropped dark hair, and gray eyes that brooked no fools. He greatly resembled the older Colonel Isherwood but had a cool evenness about him that his father had lacked.
“We did indeed request the majordomo, who sent for me this morning, not to broadcast the murder to the newspapers,” Isherwood said as we withdrew. “He readily agreed, as he did not want gossip to surround the Regent and the Pavilion. I did speak to the magistrate, who promised to investigate quietly, though I do not know how long that can last. We will prepare my father for his funeral, regardless. Is there anything you can tell us about this business, Captain? I am distressed, as you can imagine.”
The speech was delivered without much inflection, but I saw the pain in his eyes. A man who grieved but would never openly show it.
I forced myself to think through what I could remember. “I dined with your father last night, with my wife, my friend Mr. Grenville, and several other guests. The Prince Regent graced us with his presence for a time, but he left early. Lord Alvanley was there …” I trailed off, trying to remember. “Mr. Grenville would know better than I who was who.”
“Did he quarrel with anyone?” Isherwood’s thin lips curved into a smile. “I know my father, Captain. He was apt to enjoy a good quarrel.”
“With me, in fact,” I said, though the memory was vague. “Old soldiers, you know, reliving battles.”
Forbes scowled, no doubt guessing what the argument had been about. “The colonel was never happy withyou, Captain Lacey. I am surprised he sat down at the same table with you. Didyourun him through?”
I had no idea, and this made me sick inside. “Not that I recall, Captain Forbes,” I managed.
“It’s Major now,” he snarled. So, at last he’d been promoted, no doubt with Colonel Isherwood’s help.
Young Isherwood took my reply for a jest, if one in questionable taste. “My father came home after the meal, or so I assumed. I was on duty at the barracks and not here. Why he returned to the Pavilion in the middle of the night, and who he met there, I do not know.”
“What does his batman say?” I asked, hiding my worry about the answer. “Did anyone observe him leaving?”
Major Forbes’ face pinched. He was of an age with the deceased Colonel Isherwood, which put him about fifty. Gray streaked his dark hair but his skin was smooth, only a few lines etched into it by sun and weather.
“None did,” Forbes said. “That is what the servants claim. The footman on the door should be whipped.”
Young Isherwood did not look pleased with this. “My father did as he liked and none could stop him. If he slipped out, he had reason. We simply do not know what that reason is.”
“If the pair of you lived at the barracks, this would never have happened,” Forbes growled. “Why you need a fancy house on the edge of town …”
