“Your m-master has d-died,” she struggled to say, her throat almost too tight to speak.
There was a shocked gasp.
Nyland, usually so stoic, gazed at her with tears in his hazel eyes. “What do you wish me to do, Lady Prudence?”
“A surgeon might come, but turn him back. I’ve sent Gerald for the parish constable. He will arrange for the coroner and the magistrate. Order the carriage and send the maid Allie, to fetch my pelisse and bonnet. I must go immediately to see Lord Bain at Highfield Manor.”
Prue put the sealed letter in her pocket, wondering what was in it. Would Baron Bain tell her of its contents? She’d only met him once and knew him to be a widower in his mid-fifties, with a fine estate about a dozen miles away.
As the carriage took her through the estate gates and out onto the road, Prue sank back into the squab. She fumbled for her handkerchief, struggling to come to grips with what had happened.
*
Jack Ross, fifthViscount Hereford, left Lilly among the trees and headed back to the house, thinking about the information she had given him. He passed a group of men and women playing a riotous game of quoits. Laughter and ribald suggestions followed him across the lawn. Jack had begun to doubt whether Bain’s idea for this house party had been a wise one. His frustration grew with each wasted hour when he might achieve more in London. But Bain’s idea that men in their cups had loose tongues and would brag to the women paid to listen might yet yield something useful. If one or more of the men were those they sought, they enjoyed the bacchanalia and imbibed freely, but their lips remained tightly closed.
Miss Lilly Lindale was one of the few women who worked for the government’s agency that Jack was part of, and in the past, she had proven herself to be quick-thinking and reliable. She had spent the previous evening with Mr. Francis Saxon, a member of Parliament.When she and Jack had met among a copse of trees in the garden, she had told him how Saxon, whom she’d plied with drink the previous evening, had passed out and failed to reveal anything helpful. She considered it unwise to probe Saxon further. Once he sobered up, he might suspect her of being far too interested. “The only noteworthy thing he did was the half hour he spent with Lord Craven,” she had told Jack. “They were engaged in a heated conversation, but I don’t know what was said.”
Jack reached the door and entered the house. It might be worth keeping an eye on Viscount Craven and whomever else he’d spoken to.
Chapter Two
Prue sat inLord Bain’s library, oddly numb, while the hum of convivial conversation flooded through the double doors. In the musty, book-filled room, she barely registered the noise as she slumped in a chair by the fire, staring into the flames.
After Lord Bain had eased the letter gently from her fingers, he’d poured her a tot of brandy and stood over her, insisting she drink it. The liquor almost scalded as it slipped down her throat, but it helped to ease the icy knot in her chest. She coughed. “I must return home,” she murmured.
At his desk, he broke the wax seal and opened the letter. Skimming it, his hazel eyes looked grave when he raised them to meet hers. “I am so sorry for your loss, Lady Prudence. Your father was a good friend. But let’s not be too hasty, shall we?”
Anxious, she shifted forward in her chair, her hands clasped tightly in her lap, her heart beating uncomfortably fast. “What does Papa say in his letter, Lord Bain?”
He hesitated. “Your father states that if something should happen to him, it’s his wish for you to remain here until something more permanent can be arranged. We don’t know who perpetrated this villainous act, so it may not be safe for you to return home as yet.”
Her father had said much the same. Was she in danger? It was impossible to comprehend. Surely, the villain would soon be arrested. “Lord Bain, Papa knew he was in danger. Does he give any clue as to who might have wished him dead?”
With a sad shake of his head, Lord Bain sat forward in his chair, resting his arms on the leather top of his desk “My dear young lady! I’m at a loss to understand why anyone would want a man of your father’s stature dead; he was a respected member of the House of Lords, and indeed, of this community.”
A footman entered with a tray. He poured Prue a cup of tea and placed it on the side table at her elbow. She made no attempt to drink it, fearing her hands shook so badly, she would spill it.Papa is dead.A scoundrel had shot him down as a hunter would a buck. There was no sense to be made of it. Despite Lord Bain’s warning, she must go home. Perhaps the answer could be found there.
“It’s best you don’t mingle with my guests,” Lord Bain said, breaking into her thoughts. “My housekeeper will prepare a bedchamber for you.”
A bedchamber?“I cannot remain here. Our servants will be shocked. They need to be reassured.” She could imagine the upheaval taking place.
He straightened and strode to the door. “Please give me time to arrange something.” He left the room and shortly afterward, the housekeeper came in.
Mrs. Miller, a short, brusque woman, her brown hair pulled back in a bun, patted Prue’s shoulder and told her a bedchamber would soon be made ready.
Prue firmed her lips in protest. What good would it do? Mrs. Miller had her orders. She sat quietly while the staff cleared away the tea things and stoked the fire. Every time the door of the library opened to admit a servant, the laughter and chatter grew louder. The mansion appeared to be crowded with guests for a house party. When Prue’s carriage had driven onto the grounds earlier, a group of men and women had been engaged in blind man’s buff. The women hadsquealed, and the manner in which the men had grabbed them had gone beyond the bounds of propriety, although they’d seemed not to object. Despairing, Prue’s chest tightened. She had hoped to find sanctuary here. Someone to help her discover the truth. But what sort of man was Lord Bain to hold such tawdry affairs? Had Papa known him that well?
Lord Bain had been gone for some time. Prue wished he would come and explain what this was all about. He might not have known exactly what had happened, but he must have had some idea because her father had sought his help and the man hadn’t been surprised at the request to watch over her. What was in that letter? A shiver passed down her spine, chilling her to her bones, despite the coal fire crackling in the grate. She’d been aware her father had recently been involved in some kind of business that he’d never explained. It hadn’t been her place to ask. Men, including Lord Bain, had come to see him, but as they were all obviously well-respected gentlemen, she’d put it down to some new investment.
Who was the man who had ridden up to the house? It had to have been him who’d killed her father. She wished she’d gotten a better look at him. Everything seemed a blur, and she feared the shock had pushed any recollection of him from her mind.
As Prue sat staring into the flames, the door opened. She turned, expecting Lord Bain, but a young housemaid in a mobcap came into the room. The small, slender girl bobbed, her wide, blue eyes like saucers. “I’m Annie, milady. I’m to take you to your bedchamber.”
“Thank you, Annie.” Prue could do nothing but rise and follow her from the room. It appeared that she would have to wait for Lord Bain to agree to arrange a carriage. She regretted having sent her father’s coach home in case it was needed.Please let it be soon.
Once the maid left her in a guest bedchamber, Prue collapsed, her knees weak, onto the bed. Bowed down by sorrow, she closed her eyes as the image of her father’s anguished face as he’d breathed his lastreappeared in her mind. She moaned and rubbed her eyes. They felt raw and sore. The dull throb in her chest was worse than the numbness his death had first caused. With her fists clenched, she lay down and wailed, giving in to her tightly held grief, sobbing into the pillow.
Exhausted, she dragged herself up. Her throat raw, she sniffed and dried her eyes with the hem of her petticoat and then rolled off the bed. She refused to stay in this house for a moment longer than necessary. Lord Bain must allow her to go home. She would insist on it.
