SEVEN
Adrian sat at his desk, reading over the ledgers from the properties he’d invested in lately. Lord Hawthorne had thankfully steered Adrian in the right direction. Trey Worthington was also receiving money from some of these properties. Although Adrian was finally earning money on his own and not having to worry about the family’s money, he wasn’t completely happy. A woman by the name of Lyndsey Benson had cursed him. Or bewitched him.
The latter was easier to believe.
It had been a week now since he’d talked to Lyndsey at the pond... and a full week of hearing Collin brag about his outings with the lovely Benson sister. Adrian wondered if his brother did this because he knew how upset Adrian became. After all, the two brothers hadn’t really ever got along well.
But more than that, Adrian noticed that Collin wasn’t doing it out of spite. Instead, the earl was actually enjoying himself whenever he went to Lyndsey’s house. There was a certain spark to Collin’s eyes that Adrian had never seen before. Now whenever he saw that look on Collin’s face, his chest tightened more and more. Adrian feared that it would one day kill him. If that didn’t end his life, seeing Collin and Lyndsey get married would certainly do the trick.
The slamming of the front door brought Adrian out of his thoughts. From the corridor, the sound of grumbling grew louder. Curious, Adrian moved away from his desk and walked out of his study. Around the corner hobbled Collin, his clothes disheveled, his riding boots and knees were coated in mud. Just above his right knee was a large rip in his breeches.
Limping and still grumbling, Collin made his way toward the stairs. Adrian hurried to assist his brother.
“What in the blazes happened to you?” Adrian asked as he took his brother’s arm, allowing Collin to lean on him.
“That, dear brother, is a most excellent question – one that I hope to find the answer to immediately.” Collin shook his head. “I was out riding this morning, just as I always do, but just as I entered the estate, the saddle shifted beneath me. Before I knew what was happening, the saddle slipped off the horse, taking me with it.” He pushed his fingers through his wavy brownish-blonde hair. “I’m surprised I wasn’t more gravely injured since the horse came within inches of stepping on my leg.”
Adrian stopped his brother on the stairs. “Our stable hands have been lax in their duties.”
“I agree, but it’s more than that.”
Adrian creased his forehead and scowled. “What can be worse?”
“The saddle girth—” Collin began softly as he glanced back down the stairs and then up the stairs before looking back at Adrian, “was purposely cut.”
Adrian hitched a breath. “Are you certain?”
Collin gave a sharp nod. “I’ve been around stables long enough to know what a worn saddle girth looks like compared to one that’s been cut on purpose.”
Adrian motioned toward the upper floor. “Come. Let’s get you to your room. I’ll send for a physician to look at your leg.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just a sprain.”
Slowly, they moved up the stairs. Collin didn’t speak, which gave Adrian time to think, and with this kind of information, thinking wasn’t a good thing. If the saddle had been tampered with, did that mean someone at their estate was trying to harm the earl? Or, what if it wasn’t someone at the estate? What if someone from the neighboring land sneaked into their stables during the night and cut the saddle girth?
Or... what if it was someone that he or Collin had upset since they moved into the manor? Adrian couldn’t think of anyone off the top of his head. The only people he’d got to know since living here were a few servants and the stagecoach drivers from the handful of times he’d gone to meet Trey and traveled to Manchester. But what of Collin? Had he angered anyone?
Adrian dismissed the thought. The only activities his brother had been doing of late were those which involved wooing a fair maiden – or two – and trying to decide which one he wanted for a wife.
Adrian helped his brother to his bedchambers and directed the valet to take care of him. He hurried back down the stairs, taking two steps at a time as he gripped the handrails. About four steps from the bottom, the handrail cracked. As he took the next step, the handrail broke apart.
Stumbling, Adrian managed to regain his footing and not topple down the remaining stairs. His gaze locked on the broken pieces of the handrail.
How very odd. He’d not noticed they were wobbly before. Carefully, stepping to the bottom floor, he kept his eyes on the railing. He studied not only the floor where the broken pieces had fallen, but also the steps where he’d first felt the railing give away.
