“And did you see all five of those men among your accusers tonight?”
Groby frowned in recollection, and then his face took on a pained expression. “Aye. I did. All six.”
“Is Mr. Collins one of those you lent money to?”
“Nay, not Collins. I wouldn’t have lent him a farthing.”
Nate blew out his breath. That at least explained why Groby’s “friends” were so eager to see him hanged. Whether or not they framed him, Nate wasn’t so sure. Money was indeed a strong motive for murder, but so was love. It appeared as though several people had reason to want Groby gone.
*
It seemed inbad taste to play a game of croquet on the lawn beside the daffodils where a man had lain slaughtered just the day before. But Bridget and Nate had agreed that it was best not to dwell on the murder or turn Villa De Lacey into a house of mourning. Nonetheless, Bridget was disturbed that some of the guests—namely Colonel Kendall and Mr. Angert—seemed intrigued and excited by the prospect of playing croquet just a few feet from where the murder victim had been discovered, while others appeared to be indifferent. So she forced a smile and joined the guests in their game, despite her urgent desire to return to Braithwaite and visit Mrs. Groby again.
Teamed with the Harleys, Bridget played against Miss Jennings, Colonel Kendall, and a reluctant Lady Matheson. Lady Armstrong, who had an aching knee, sat on a lawn chair and observed the players, occasionally using her spyglass to get a closer look and act as a self-appointed referee. Mr. Angert declined to play and instead fetched his easel and proceeded to sketch them competing on the grass. And Aunt Marianne, who hated croquet, stayed inside to ensure all was running smoothly within the walls of the villa. After the disastrous summer when the household staff had run amok and two people ended up dead, Aunt Marianne had reassumed the role of managing the servants. Her aunt secretly enjoyed being in charge, but, as she frequently reminded Nate, she was not and would never be a servant. After all, Villa De Lacey was her ancestral home, and she made certain the guests knew as much too.
The game had been going badly because every time someone hit a ball, Bijou would attempt to chase it, and while that made Bridget and Jane laugh, Colonel Kendall was not impressed. For him, everything was a battle that had to be won at any cost. About halfway through, just as Lady Armstrong was admonishing Miss Jennings yet again for playing as though she were “wearing a blindfold,” an elaborate blackand gold carriage rolled through the gates of Villa De Lacey, causing everyone to pause their game and watch its ascent up the carriageway.
“Someone is here.” Lady Matheson’s face grew pale as she followed the carriage with her eyes. “There’s a crest on the door. Can you see what it is?” She discarded her mallet and looked around wildly.
“I say!” Colonel Kendall pointed at Lady Matheson’s discarded mallet. “We are only halfway through the game. Do you intend to forfeit?”
“Yes, forfeit. Forfeit for all I care!” she said.
“That’s a disgrace, madam! We do not abandon our men on the battlefield.”
Lady Matheson ignored him, but Jane giggled.
The lady silenced her with a glare. “Who is that? Are you expecting more guests?” she demanded, turning to Bridget.
“Not that I am aware of.” Bridget frowned at the approaching carriage.
“Well, it looks to be someone important,” Lady Matheson said, and Bridget thought she heard a tremble in her voice. Of what, or who, was Lady Matheson afraid?
The red and gold family crest on the carriage came into focus—two winged griffons on either side of an elaborate shield sporting a medieval castle. Bridget’s heart started to pulse. She’d seen a carriage bearing that crest before.
“I think I recognize that crest,” Mr. Harley said, “but I can’t quite put my finger on to whom it belongs.”
“Yes,” Jane said. “I can’t quite place it either. Although, I agree, it looks familiar.”
“It’s her.” Bridget’s voice came out in a whisper.
“Who?” Lady Matheson sounded hysterical, but Bridget couldn’t find her voice to answer. They all watched as the carriage rolled to a stop. Then one of the two coachmen, dressed in smart livery consisting of a black and gold-trimmed tailcoat, red breeches, white stockings,and shiny black shoes, dismounted and opened the carriage door.
“The Countess of Luxton,” the coachman announced. And then, Nate’s beautiful former betrothed—the mother of his young son—exited the carriage.
“It’s Lady Luxton!” Jane said. “And she’s brought her darling little boy.”
The apples of Jane’s cheeks brightened at the sight of the child. Her one wish was to become a mother, but with each passing month, her hope diminished. Jane feared she was barren. Bridget was pleased that the presence of little Henry Luxton would bring some comfort to Jane, but for her, his arrival brought new anxiety and worry.
The last time Nate’s former betrothed had been a guest at Villa De Lacey, things had not gone well. Worse, Bridget had been the uncomfortable witness to their quarrels and to Nate’s agony at finding out he was the father of a boy who’d been claimed by another man.
As far as the world was concerned, Nate’s little boy was the son of the Earl of Luxton, who also happened to be the Laird of Lochmaben, owing to his massive estate in Scotland. Neither Nate nor Lady Luxton would do anything to jeopardize that. But Lord Luxton was seven-and-eighty years old and in ill health, so although Lady Luxton had left Nate for the title and money the earl provided, it seemed she now wanted the best of both worlds. Ultimately, Lady Luxton was a vain and cruel woman who liked to use her child to manipulate Nate. And Bridget did not want to see him hurt.
“What a dear little boy,” Lady Matheson said, and then she let out a choked sob.
“Whatever is the matter?” Jane asked the lady.
Lady Matheson shook her head, unable to answer.
