Lord Harry appeared miserable, but Elizabeth was quick to his side.
‘Come, cousin, time to shake off your doldrums. Join us in a round of badminton,’ she encouraged, her tone warm and persistent.
Reluctantly, he agreed and took his place on her team against Lord Gerrard and Lady Jane. The game was far from graceful, with Lord Harry struggling to move without his walking stick. His limp made it difficult, but Lady Jane was equally clumsy, so the teams were more or less even.
The other ladies sat contentedly on a blanket, enjoying their cold meats and drinks. Grace, astonished at Lord Gerrard’s spectacularly ungraceful fall—landing squarely on his backside and into the picnic baskets—could not help but chuckle. Embarrassed, he sprang to his feet like a startled hare, pretending nothing had happened. The only giveaway was his beetroot-red complexion and sheepish grin.
As the servants were a short distance away, Grace got up to tidy the mess left behind. She began stacking the baskets butfroze when she noticed something unusual at the bottom of the pile.
Heather, who had come to help, saw the shift in her sister’s expression.
‘Gracy, what is the matter? You look as though you have seen a ghost!’ she asked, concerned.
Grace did not respond immediately, her gaze fixed on the object before her.
There, on the grass, lay a blade that had come loose from Lord Harry’s cane.
As she took in the sight, it became clear: his walking stick was not just a simple support but a concealed weapon—a swordstick. A slim, sharp blade was hidden within. Her mind reeled at the implications of this discovery.
Heather peered closer, her eyes widening with realisation.
‘Oh my, I have read about these in the gentlemen’s fashion plates! It is beautiful! Have you ever had to use it, my lord?’ she asked naively, her eyes fascinated by the piece.
Lord Harry turned sharply at her question, his expression momentarily hardening before he regained his composure.
‘Ah, it was a gift from my late father. He wanted me to have it for protection, but thankfully I have never needed to use it. I almost forgot it was in there!’ he replied, attempting to brush off any suspicion with a casual tone.
However, Grace’s gaze had already fallen upon the initialsB.A.engraved on the blade. A bone-deep chill slithered through her, leaving her rigid, every muscle locking in place. She realised, with mounting dread, that she was looking at the murder weapon.
She hesitated, then asked, ‘What do the initialsB.A.stand for?’
Her words hung in the air, and she immediately regretted her question. Lord Harry’s sharp gaze fixed on her, scrutinising her face as though weighing her thoughts.
After a long pause, he finally answered, ‘Ben Armitage. My father’s initials.’
Lord Gerrard, approaching to take a closer look, chuckled.
‘Just like Uncle Ben to give you a gift withhisinitials on it. Usually, one engraves the initials of the person receiving the gift, does one not?’
Lord Harry managed a half-smile, his voice tinged with bitterness.
‘Quite so. My father was always self-absorbed.’
Before the conversation could continue, Lady Elizabeth, ever the competitive spirit, clapped her hands.
‘Come, now! Let us not waste time. I am ready for the next round!’ she urged.
But Grace’s mind was spinning.
How could Lord Harry have the murder weapon?
Had his brother borrowed it and returned it to him? That seemed unlikely, as he always carried it wherever he went. She had never seen him without it.
She could not reconcile how he could have been involved in Mr Gibbs’s murder and yet still have captured Melissa. It did not make sense.
Perhaps they had both been involved.
She needed to speak to the Duke—of all days, he had to have an urgent business call!
