Sadness engulfed Guy like a dark shroud. He sat on the step with his head in his hands.
Two of the maids began to wail and were ushered away by a footman.
“Did you send for the magistrate, Hammond?” Guy asked, lifting his head.
“I did, my lord, he should be here soon.” Hammond opened the front door.
A horse galloped up the gravel drive.
The rider dismounted and ran up the steps.
Guy climbed to his feet. “John!”
“So, you are here.” Strathairn walked into the room. “What has happened?”
Strathairn stared down at Vincent who lay on his back, his eyes staring blankly up at them. “Your twin.”
“Oui. Vincent and I fought. We fell down the stairs. His neck is broken.”
John nodded. “See to Vincent’s body first. We’ll discuss how to deal with the situation, later.” He knelt beside Vincent and drew a tiepin from his cravat. It was of a bronze bird its wings outstretched.
“What are you doing?” Guy asked with a gasp.
“We might have need of this.” John handed the tiepin to him. “An eagle. A Napoleonic symbol. Like those that sat atop regimental flag poles.”
“To lose an eagle would bring shame to a fighting unit,” Guy said. “Vincent told me he was close to Napoleon.” Hating to hold the thing in his hands, he gave it back to John and turned to the butler. “Hammond, have two footmen move my brother into one of the bedchambers. Wait for me in the library, John.”
Guy went to oversee the laying out of his brother. He gazed down at the face he’d longed to see again since he was twelve years old. He sat for a moment in the still room staring at nothing, his mind grappling with the horror. When he finally left the room and returned to John, he was barely aware that his body ached for the pain in his heart was so intense it almost brought him to his knees. He walked to the drinks table. “Whiskey, John?”
“Please.”
Guy sloshed amber liquid into two tumblers and handed one to John. He sat and took a large swallow as warmth spread through his cold insides. It failed to remove the hollow pain and sense of loss. He doubted anything ever would.
“So, this is the spy Whitehall has been looking for,” John said.
Guy nodded, his shoulders slumped.
“He was a murderer. I’m sure he would’ve killed you, Guy.”
“I have no doubt of it.”
“The government must be informed. Lord Parnham will handle it.”
“I see.”
“But Parnham will be disappointed.”
Guy glanced up. “Disappointed? I should think he would be relieved.”
“Vincent was to lead us to the spies’ nest.”
“You’ve learned nothing from following Forney?”
“He’s being cautious. He approached you believing you to be Vincent and expected more from you. Your reaction would have surprised him.”
Guy gingerly touched his head. “Perhaps.”
A curricle rattled its way up the drive.
