“A brief acquaintance only. He hails from the north, as does my family. We’ve met at the York Assembly.”
“What do you think of him?” Mercy wondered if his suggestion that he would consider supporting her business was truthful, or merely a way of charming her.
“I find him somewhat unknowable,” Arabella murmured.
“Yes,” Mercy said. That was it exactly. Surely her father didn’t consider him a suitor for her. The thought horrified her.
Sir Ewan emerged from the throng with two glasses.
“How kind of Sir Ewan,” Mercy’s mother bent close to her ear. “Be sure to thank him prettily.”
“Here you are, my two bewitching young ladies. I shall now leave you to your beaus.” He bowed to Mercy’s mother and Arabella’s Aunt Jane with one of his cool smiles. “I regret I must retire. I’m departing for York in the morning. A funeral of a good friend, sadly.”
“I wonder whose funeral it is,” Arabella mused after he’d departed. “I hope my brother will make an appearance soon. He will surely know.” She frowned. “He promised me faithfully, he would be here to support my Come Out.”
“What is your brother’s name?” Mercy asked.
“Grant, Viscount Northcliffe. Have you been introduced to him?”
Mercy gasped. “Oh yes, I have. We shared at dance at Lady Millburn’s ball. I haven’t seen him since though.”
“Grant was in London then. I did wonder why he didn’t escort me tonight. He shan’t come now; no one is admitted after eleven. There was no reply to the letter I sent to Albany yesterday, so I assumed he must be away.” Arabella grinned. “My brother is quite good looking is he not?”
“Ah yes, by any measure.” Mercy refrained from adding that he was an opinionated rake. It was plain that Arabella adored her brother.
Chapter Five
GRANT RODE THROUGH the village where the market was busy with villagers trading their livestock and wares. Leaving the cottages and farmlets, he followed the River Tees to where the golden-stoned mansion perched above its banks, set in a beautiful park.
As Lady Haighton was at prayer in the chapel, Grant left his card. Nat’s groom accompanied him to the spot where the earl’s body was found near a copse of birches. In the distance, the iron-framed ribs of the new train track snaked along harkening a new, exciting form of travel.
“I found his lordship here.” Sedgwick’s voice sounded hollow, as he stared down at the blood-stained earth.
“Was he still alive?”
“No. Shot through the heart. Died before he hit the ground, most likely.”
Grant’s stomach gave a sickening lurch.
“When his lordship failed to return from his early morning ride, I went looking for him.” Sedgwick’s voice turned gruff with distress. “Then one of the railway workers inspecting the damaged line saw his body and came to find me.”
Grant strode over to where something metal glinted in the grass. Grant picked it up, weighing the ball in his hand.
“What have you found, milord?” Sedgwick called.
“A ball. It’s from a Baker rifle.”
Sedgwick came to look. “Looks like any other to me.”
“It’s a patched ball, which could only fit a Baker.” Grant had made a comprehensive study of artillery when, as a youth, he’d hoped to join the army. “These rifles were used during the Napoleonic wars. Good for long range. Used by snipers.”
Sedgwick’s mouth gaped. “You don’t think the army is involved?”
“Could be anyone. The guns have been around since the war.” He tucked it into his pocket. “Keep this to yourself, Sedgwick.”
“My lips are sealed, milord,” Sedgwick said his face tight. “Anything I can do to help nab the master’s killer. A good man he was.”
Grant returned with Sedgwick to the earl’s home, intent on seeing Jenny.
