Page 45 of Barbarous

“Who noticed it first?”

“I did, after we brought you back.”

Hugh chewed his lip. Had Daphne seen it? After all, she’d carried the saddle over to him. She was an experienced horsewoman, but perhaps she’d been too shaken at the time.

“When could this have happened?”

“Your saddle was in the tack room with all the rest; anyone could have tampered with it. It could have happened anytime—even before this last ride—and only broken after some use.”

Hugh recalled the day of the accident, his mind running through the events of that morning until he came upon one that stood out.

“What is the name of Lady Davenport’s former lady’s maid—the one still at Whitton Park?”

Will’s blond brows shot up. “You mean Fowler—or Mrs. Blake, rather?”

“Yes, that’s the one. We came across her and her husband, a surly sort, just outside Elm Cottage. They were arguing behind the building. I suppose they could have tampered with my saddle when we were in the cottage.”

“But why would they?”

Hugh shrugged. “What if the two of them were doing something on behalf of Malcolm Hastings?”

“You mean perhaps they thought to sabotage Lady Davenport’s horse and made a mistake?”

Hugh snorted. “Only a true idiot could mistake Pasha for Lady Davenport’s mount.” Hugh paused. “Unless they tampered with both?”

Will shook his head. “I already checked. Nothing wrong with her saddle or any of the others.”

Hugh stared at the boys without really seeing them. “I give up,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Why the devil would Hastings—or his servants—want me injured or dead? What could he possibly stand to gain?”

“Didn’t you thrash him once—at the public day, after your second year away at school?”

Hugh shifted his sling and winced. “Good Lord,” he said, sifting through his memories. “Did I?”

Will nodded. “It was when we found him back behind the stables with the old vicar’s daughter—she was crying.”

Hugh squinted for a long moment and then shook his head. “Bloody hell! I’d forgotten all about that. What a memory you’ve got.” He raised his eyebrows at Will. “Old Vicar Hawthorne’s daughter, the one with the—”

Will chuckled. “Aye, that’s the one. You asked her why she was crying and she said Hastings had tried to kiss her.”

“Lord—that was ages ago. We were just boys—perhaps thirteen—it’s ludicrous.”

“You humiliated him in front of several others.”

Hugh shook his head. “No, that would be too foolish—even for Hastings.”

“Who else could it be?”

“I have no idea.” Hugh scratched the scar where it disappeared into his hairline. “I can only think it has something to do with the threatening letters. I don’t suppose there has been any luck on that?”

“I meant to tell you, I spoke with the agent the day of your injury. He says Hastings is not hiring. In fact, it appears he’s been letting servants go, quite a few of them.”

“He’s skint?”

Will nodded. “Aye, dodging dunning agents.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Well, if he’s not hiring, then we’ll need to find another way to get somebody into the house. I’ve been thinking Martín may be the answer.”

Will blinked. “Your second mate? Why? What could he do?”