Chicken droppings were all over the place. He frowned, trying to make sense of it.
“I woke this morning to have chickens in my kitchen and in the main room. Someone came in while I was alone and asleep. And it will not happen anymore, do you understand me, sir? I will not stand for it.”
“Nor should you,” he agreed swiftly.
Winderton had to be behind this. Winderton, who challenged Ned on everything and who was destroying the reputation of the Logical Men’s Society. When word of this reached the matrons their gossip would set a bonfire in the village.
Ned’s own temper ignited. “Come with me,” he said, taking Mrs. Estep by the elbow and directing her out onto the street.
She tried to balk, but nowhewas in charge. “Where are we going?” she demanded.
Ignoring the curious stares following them, he said, “I’m going to settle this matter once and for all. He will not take over my village.”
“He who?”
“The Duke of Winderton.”
“You are saying he is behind this?”
“I’m certain of it. However, let’s find out.”
She cast him a speculative look but matched him step for step.
Fortunately, Hippocrates had not made it all the way home. He had stopped to nibble the grass growing in the churchyard. The reins were still around his neck. Ned was lucky they hadn’t been broken. He mounted and then offered a hand to Mrs. Estep. “Come along.”
“What do you have in mind?”
“I’m going to talk to Winderton and I want you there when I do.”
“Why?”
“Will you believe my denial that I had anything to do with this without hearing for yourself?”
Her response was to give him her hand. He lifted her onto the saddle in front of him. Together they rode to the Dower House on the Winderton estate.
Of course, everything was quiet. The hour was too early in the morning for the likes of the duke to be up.
Ned’s suspicions were solidified when they approached the house and found Mark Dawson and Shielding fast asleep on the front step, leaning against each other. It was as if they had started home and just hadn’t made it very far. Sir Lionel’s sedan chair was under a tree. One of the runners was asleep in it. Ned wondered where the rest of the Society members were.
As if in answer, he heard a hacking sound, then the loud noise of a piss that seemed to go on forever. Finally, when he was done, Sweeney came stumbling from around the side of the house, buttoning his breeches.
This was not how the gentlemen of the Logical Men’s Society were to comport themselves; another crime he laid at the duke’s door.
Sweeney squinted toward them. “Thurlowe? You are here? Who do you have with you?” He scratched his privates and Mrs. Estep ducked her head as if to hide a laugh or her embarrassment. He didn’t blame her either way.
“I’m here to see His Grace.”
“Oh,” Sweeney said, the amount he’d had to drink slowing his words. “He’s—” Sweeney looked around as if he’d been in charge of the duke and had misplaced him. He looked up to Ned, confusion on his face. “He’s here. I don’t know where.”
“Stay on the horse,” Ned said to Mrs. Estep, and he hopped down.
“Wait, this is a big horse,” she said. “You can’t leave me here on top of him.”
“You will be fine. He’s a lamb. Aren’t you, Hippocrates?” The response was a heavy sigh and cocked leg as Hippocrates demonstrated he understood he was to stand and take care of Mrs. Estep. That being settled, Ned walked up to the door, stepping over the two men in front of it, and rapped smartly.
A wigged servant in Winderton colors answered. “Yes, sir?”
“I’m here to see His Grace. Send him out.”
