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‘That’s correct.’

‘I understand from Isabella that they, along with the other villagers, live in houses and work land that belong to this estate. It was that house and land that the late Lord Fernley intended to evict them from?’

‘Yes.’

‘Which you suspected would cause them significant upset?’

‘Yes.’

Sir Edward inclined his head, apparently pleased by her succinct responses, but then he grew grave. ‘Now, however, that threat has been lifted. With your husband the new Viscount, and you installed as the Viscountess, you are in a position to make sure no harm can befall them. Was that a situation you hoped for?’

Jacob sat forward warningly, his hand tightening on hers. ‘Sir Edward. I don’t appreciate what you’re implying.’

‘Forgive me, my lord. These are the questions I have to ask.’

Meg took a deep breath. It was horrible to be examined in such a way but she had no choice but to bear it, some temporary discomfort a small price to pay for making sure the truth won out, and of course Jacob’s protective custody of her fingers gave her added courage. ‘No. I never hoped for this. I didn’t covet the title of viscountess and I had no desire to supplant Isabella. That I was in the woods at the same time as Anthony’s accident is a coincidence and nothing more.’

The magistrate eyed her closely. ‘His accident—so you had no ill intent towards your brother-in-law? No plan whatsoever to do him harm?’

‘None. My only thought was to warn my father what was coming. I had no idea Anthony planned to deliver his eviction notice that same morning.’

Sir Edward’s lined forehead creased. He looked more serious than ever, and a fresh shiver of dread skittered down her spine as he laced his fingers together on the desk’s leather top.

‘I would like nothing better than to draw a line under this whole sorry business. For my part, I’d be glad to close the investigation here, but there’s one more thing I must ask you to explain.’ He consulted his notes again, and Meg had the sudden impression that whatever was written there was about to cause her a great deal of trouble. ‘You are insistent that the damage to the late Lord Fernley’s gig was accidental. Is that correct?’

‘Yes. Of course.’

‘It was not.’

She blinked. ‘What do you mean?’

Sir Edward shifted in his chair. He glanced at Jacob, but her husband’s attention was on the floor, the flickering of a muscle in his cheek the only sign he was listening intently to every word.

‘Upon further inspection it was found that the gig’s axle had been partially sawn through. Any sharp bend or sudden movement could have caused it to snap, which was indeed what occurred. As an axle cannot be sawn through by itself, I have to ask—can you shed any light on how such a thing might have come to pass?’

He schooled himself not to react when Sir Edward asked the terrible question, but all the same it was a struggle for Jacob to remain calm.

The nerve of the man. I’d throw him out myself if stopping the investigation wouldn’t cast more suspicion on Meg.

Nausea climbed his gullet and he forced it back down, cursing Isabella and her hysteria. Of course Meg hadn’t been the one to sabotage Anthony’s gig. He knew that, and to wonder otherwise for even the briefest of beats would be a betrayal she didn’t deserve.

Sir Edward had told him of the discovery earlier that morning and he hadn’t been able to rest until he’d seen the damage for himself. The magistrate was right: the axle had snapped but the break wasn’t jagged enough to have happened by chance. Someone had taken a saw to it, and it was imperative he found out who, both to ensure everyone’s safety and to lift the yoke of blame from around Meg’s neck.

Surreptitiously, still appearing to be absorbed by the study’s carpet, he watched her out of the tail of his eye. She hadn’t yet spoken. She was sitting motionless, her lips slightly parted on words that apparently wouldn’t come, and he was seized with the urge to pull her to him and place himself between her and the vicious allegations that weren’t rooted in the truth. Isabella hurled accusations like weapons, and as Meg’s husband it was his duty to make sure she was shielded from harm.

‘I—I can’t explain that,’ Meg stammered. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’

Sir Edward’s lips thinned. ‘You lived in the village before your marriage. Did you help your father work the land?’

‘Yes, but—’

‘So you’re familiar with using tools?’ The magistrate cut across her, his careful civility slipping for the first time. ‘Given your agricultural background, you would be able to undertake physical activities that would be beyond a more highly born lady.’

Meg shied away at the same instant Jacob leaned forward. Sir Edward was not an unkind man, but evidently he harboured some of the same prejudices many of his class held against those considered beneath them, the veiled implication behind his suggestion one Jacob couldn’t allow to go unchallenged.

‘Sir Edward,’ he snapped. ‘Being born into a lower sphere is not a crime. I’m sure a duchess would be able to lift a saw just as well as a housemaid.’

He caught the grateful glance Meg threw him, although the other man still looked stern.