To his amazement, Mr. Bosworth, the banker, stepped down from the gig, leaving his horse in the hands of a stable lad. Bosworth was too cheap to pay drivers or footmen, so usually drove himself.
He never visited the inn. As a possible heir and one of the late earl’s estate trustees, he had a permanent room at the manor.
Rafe hastily buttoned his coat and entered the yard to shout unnecessary orders to his ostlers, just to impress. His lads knew what to do without being told. “Mr. Bosworth, welcome! How may we help you this evening?”
“I understand Lord Greybourne is staying here and not at the manor?” A stout, middle-aged man with thinning blond hair, Bosworth swept past him and into the lobby.
“He does. Shall I see if he’s available?” Rafe signaled Parsons, who was practically shaking in his tattered boots. His clerk had a problem with authority—and just about anything else related to proper society. The penal colonies he’d spent half his life in had not catered to civilized standards.
Bosworth studied the shabby lobby. “If you would, please.”
Rafe nodded at Parsons, who raced up the stairs for the gentleman’s quarters.
“And while we wait, explain to me what happened to Mr. Comfrey? I am frankly appalled by the lawlessness that abounds in this purgatory. I dare not send any more of my employees for fear they might not return.”
Having spent half his life in the army, Rafe had learned to bite his tongue around his superiors. Personally, he did not consider a banker any higher ranked than an inn owner, but Bosworth had wealth and influence and his goodwill meant much to the manor folk. Rafe bowed and offered a seat in the pub.
While Bosworth leaned against the bar and studied the polished but well-worn pub, Rafe pulled a tankard of his finest ale. “From all we have learned so far, Mr. Comfrey went to Bradford House before Lord Greybourne arrived, presumably to inspect the work being done. There must have been an altercation. We have no witnesses.”
Bosworth gave a snort of disgust. “You have nothing but speculation?”
Rafe ignored the interruption and continued with his report. “I only met Mr. Comfrey the once, the night before he died. If he was in Gravesyde while the house was being renovated, he did not make himself known. His workmen did not stay with us, so I don’t know who they are. There are no other occupied cottages in the vicinity, so no neighbors to question.”
Bosworth scowled. “What workmen? Comfrey was only to hire a local to dust and sweep. I did not authorize expenditures for repairs.”
Rafe narrowed his eyes at this news. “Someone has been pounding on the roof this past week. The place is scarcely habitable. You thought to let it out in disrepair?”
Bosworth shrugged. “The bank has lost enough money on unpaid mortgages over decades. If someone wishes to buy or let property, they’ll have to hire their own workers. I certainly won’t pay them. I daresay Comfrey must have confronted these mysterious workers.”
Rafe found this highly unlikely, but Greybourne sauntered in at that point, and he kept his thoughts to himself.
The curly-haired twins followed his lordship in, like an entourage. After last night’s contretemps, Rafe didn’t blame them. He was amazed the professor hadn’t packed up his carriage and moved on.
Rafe made the introductions. Greybourne insisted they take the best table, the one with actual chairs and not benches. Miss Leonard set a small stack of letters in front of her. They all declined ale but accepted cider.
Rafe was starting to regret letting out the private parlors to shops. He knew the villagers. They’d all be filtering in here as soon as word of the gig’s arrival spread about.
He set down the mugs. “Mr. Bosworth says that work was not authorized on the house. Did you, perchance, arrange it, my lord?” Rafe had an interest in any information he could gain. He saw no other means of locating Comfrey’s killer.
“I most certainly did not. I expect any house I lease to be prepared for my arrival. Comfrey’s correspondence assured me it would be.” Grey gestured toward Miss Leonard, who produced the letters in question.
“This first one is dated nearly a fortnight ago.” Bosworth glared at the collection and donned spectacles. “Bring me a lamp.”
What little daylight remained had vanished into the clouds, casting the pub in shadow. Rafe brought a lantern out from beneath the bar and lit it.
“That is the response to my first inquiry, after the decision was made to visit. Had I not thought suitable accommodation available, I would have merely stopped at the inn to visit my cousin and gone on. Comfrey’s letter assured me that he had a house suitable for an extended stay.” Greybourne sat back to sip his cider while the banker perused the correspondence.
“You agreed to pay this princely sum for a hovel in this wretched hole?” Bosworth asked in astonishment. “What has Miss Talbot told you that would make you so agreeable?”
“Obviously, once we saw the place, we would not have been agreeable.” Greybourne waved away the letter. “We signed no lease.”
Hovering, Rafe frowned at the oddity. Miss Leonard slid him the letters so he could scan them for himself. He skimmed them as he spoke. “So, we are to believe that Mr. Comfrey agreed to let out Bradford House for an unreasonable sum that he must have known Greybourne would not accept—if he saw it in its original condition. Then he spent this last week hiring men to make repairs in hopes his lordship might stay? Was Comfrey paying them from his own pocket?”
“Presumably.” Bosworth slammed his mug down huffily. “Although I cannot imagine where he found the blunt. I will have to examine his accounts. This is most unprecedented. Comfrey was an excellent employee. I had hoped to entrust him with the village’s properties. He thought he might find buyers and renters, and I welcomed his initiative.”
Greybourne sipped his cider, eyeing the banker warily. “Had he brought contracts to you for other properties?”
“In fact, he had, several of the small ones. The amounts were minimal, but better than the nothing we’d been collecting. He claimed the occupants would do the repairs themselves in exchange for the lesser rents.”
