Had Alberic accused Pike of cheating him and threatened to call in the magistrate? Pike would need to act quickly to silence him. Not such a fanciful theory for a man who carried a knife and savagely attacked his footman.
Pity that the letter Evelyn sent him hadn’t arrived. Something in it might allude to Pike, despite it being written sometime before his uncle’s death. But he couldn’t wait for it and didn’t have time to write to his sister for more details.
Pike had attempted to hide his acquaintance with Mrs. Hobbs. So, why risk coming to Redcliffe Hall and being seen with her in the gardens? It was reckless and made Dominic suspicious. Was it to arrange another break-in? Had he become impatient or nervous of discovery?
Dominic was sure as he could be that it was Pike who struck Jack down. Might it be he who shot him? A far more attractive assumption than that of George wanting him dead.
Only a marksman could pick Dominic off from among the trees. That shot was aimed at his head with chilling accuracy. Pike was a clerk, hardly the type to be so handy with a rifle. And why kill him? It hardly fitted with what he’d worked out about the man. The fear of discovery, plus the resulting uproar when the magistrate investigated, would not suit his plans.
They approached the outskirts of the village.
Dominic’s pulse raced and his shoulders tightened. He checked his pistol and tucked it into his waistband. If he had to, he would fire to protect Samuels but didn’t want Pike dead. He needed to have a serious talk with the fellow.
He reined in and dismounted. “We’ll leave the horses here. Pike’s house is in the next street, two houses down.”
Securing the reins to tree branches, they continued on foot.
Around the next corner, on the quiet street, the row of cottages was all dark. Country people retired early to save on candles and fuel.
Dominic slipped into the deep purple shadows beneath the trees. “We’ll wait for word from Jack. I sent him to the tavern to keep an eye on Pike.”
As he spoke, his footman loomed up beside him, his voice a dramatic whisper. “Our quarry is in the taproom, milord.”
“Go back. As soon as he prepares to leave, alert us as quietly and quickly as you can.”
“I’m good at bird calls, milord. Owls especially.”
Dominic smiled into the dark. “Good. Stay out of Pike’s way. He mustn’t see you.”
“Right, milord.” Jack crept away as Dominic placed a cautious hand on the garden gate. Well-oiled, it swung soundlessly open.
Samuels followed him along the path to the front door of the small, half-timbered cottage. Dominic went to check all the windows. Circumnavigating the building, he found them securely locked, the curtains drawn. He returned to the front of the house, where Samuels had opened the door.
They slipped in and closed the door behind them. They were in a small parlor. Dominic took a taper from his pocket and lit it. The faint acrid odor of smoke drifted over the room. Its faint light hidden from outside with the curtains drawn.
Samuels gazed around. “What are we looking for, milord?”
“Money. A lot of it.”
They moved about the simply furnished rooms. A cabinet displayed a humble array of china and a bookshelf with a few books. The bedchamber was as spartan as a monk’s cell. A narrow bed, a candlestick on a table, and some clothes neatly folded on shelves. A woman’s dressing gown smelling of lavender hung on a hook. Mrs. Hobbs?
Dominic checked the mattress, finding rusty springs beneath. He left everything as he found it.
Samuels roamed around, tapping the walls.
As he grew conscious of time running short, Dominic opened the last cupboard. The remains of a meal in a china bowl, bread, a jug of milk, a rind of cheese, and a tub of butter.
As he moved about, a heavy sense of disappointment weighed him down. Had he accused an innocent man? They’d found nothing of interest. No decorative items, only the rug. In the poor light, he had taken little notice of it. He crouched down and ran his hands over it. Silk, woven with rich blues and golds, and completely out of place here. Pike’s one concession to luxury?
He flipped up a corner. The floor beneath was of wooden planks. “Help me with this, Samuels.”
Together, they rolled up the rug.
Dominic’s gaze swept over the floor. Mr. Pike was a neat fellow. Not a speck of dust or dirt. “Bring the taper closer.”
Samuels pointed. “There.”
Pike had cut a square out of the timber.
