Page 40 of The Widow Wore Plaid

“It wasn’t the first time Kinellan had an accident?” Matthew’s world had just had the rug pulled from underneath it.

“Well, there was the little run-in while we were shooting, or before we started after lunch.” Brack looked around at the ladies, their faces all displaying various degrees of shock and anger. “But you were there for that one, Lathbury.”

“You were?” Fanny wheeled around on him like a striking snake. “And didn’t think it fit to tell me?”

“Fanny, you mustn’t get upset in your condition.” Lord, keeping his wife from getting too excited was a Herculean task. “The shot was a stray. Nothing came of it because it was nothing.”

“I’m beginning to think it’s not ‘nothing,’ Lathbury.” Wrotham tipped the decanter and poured two fingers’ worth into his glass.

“So you think these three incidents—well, two as we don’t have any evidence that anything’s happened to them yet—mean what?” Georgie sat up eagerly on her chair. “Do you think someone is trying to kill him?”

“Preposterous.” Matthew’s voice exploded loudly in the room where others, Kinellan’s actual relations, had begun to wander in before dinner. All eyes turned to him and he turned his back on the room at large and faced his friends. “Let us wait until Grant gives us news. Most likely one of their horses lost a shoe and they’ve spent the better part of the afternoon walking back from Fodderty.” Matthew spoke more to convince himself than anyone else. The situation was beginning to alarm him despite his protests to the contrary. If someone was trying to do his friend harm, it must be one of his relations. It was ludicrous to think it any of their own little circle. So why would a kinsman wish Kinellan harm?

Peering around the room now that those around him had broken up into little animated groups of two and threes, Matthew took his time scrutinizing the various Setons who were still in attendance. Most had left that morning, although at least a dozen or so had decided to stay for the wedding. He’d met everyone over the course of the week, and remembered most of the gentlemen, but not necessarily their wives. Gazing from one to the other, ticking them off in his memory, Matthew accounted for everyone save two women and one gentleman.

“Fanny, do you know who that gentleman is, talking to the very pretty lady with red hair?” Had he missed meeting the man or had he joined them late on purpose? Matthew hated being so suspicious, but Kinellan was his best friend and he’d not have him harmed.

“Ah, yes, Jane introduced me to them. A brother and sister, Mr. Murray and Miss Murray, friends of the family. They have been staying in Strathpeffer with an aunt, although they have been attending the festivities here for the past few days.” Fanny eyed him. “A very pretty lady, Matthew?”

“If one liked red hair she would be tolerable, I suppose, my love.” He kissed his wife’s cheek. “I however love only dark-haired women.”

She shot him an even more dangerous look.

“Woman, my dear. One particular, beautiful woman.” He lifted her hand and kissed it.

“That is better.”

“What about the small woman sitting in the corner there, looking so melancholy. Who is she?” A mousy woman he’d have forgotten the moment he’d been introduced to her.

“Let me ask the others.” Fanny turned to Charlotte and Elizabeth, sitting next to her.

Matthew continued to observe the woman, dressed neatly although her gown was rather plain and looked well worn. Was she a poor relation of Kinellan’s? Unmarried, perhaps, and with little income. If one was looking for a villain, one usually looked for a man. Could a woman not be as deadly if the victim had something she wanted? An inheritance she desperately needed from her wealthy relation, perhaps. Stranger things had happened in Matthew’s life.

“Mrs. Seton, Matthew.” Fanny had turned back from her friend to speak to him. “Elizabeth told me just now.”

So much for the destitute spinster.

“Mrs. Rory Seton.”

“But where is her husband? She’s all alone.” That pricked up Matthew’s interest.

Fanny shrugged. “He’ll be along soon, I suppose. It’s almost time to go in to dinner.” She grasped Matthew’s arm, her face in fresh worry lines. “Where are Kinellan and Jane? Surely, they should have been here by now?”

“Do not fret, my love. Let me ring for Grant once more.” He rose just as the door opened and the butler entered, a shadow of worry around his eyes.

“My lord, the groom has just returned from Fodderty.”

Matthew hurried to the man’s side. If this were bad news it shouldn’t be blurted out to the entire company. “Tell me what happened.”

“Tom, the groom, took the direct path to Fodderty, my lord. Said he saw no sign of Lord Kinellan or Lady John. He inquired about them at the vicarage and Mr. Ross denied that they had an appointment today.” Grant’s demeanor had deteriorated somewhat from the dignified butler to the frightened servant. “Where could they be, my lord?”

Matthew set his jaw. The situation had ceased to be a game of questions. They needed answers and quickly. “We are about to find out, Grant. Come with me.” He strode back to the Chippendale sofa that seemed to be the focal point of their little group’s gathering. “Kinellan and Jane apparently did not have a meeting with the vicar today.”

“They didn’t?”

“But Jane told me they were going to meet with him.”

“Why would they lie?”