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The stranger hunched lower over the bar. Whatever he’d been drinking before he’d arrived at the tavern had evidently loosened his tongue, but all the same it took another gulped glassful before he could go on.

‘He said it would act as a warning, a private disagreement between gentlemen. It didn’t make sense to me, but who was I to argue with my betters? I never imagined… I never dreamed anyone would be killed.’

His voice shook. To hear such a large man holding back tears was a sorry thing and Jacob recognised the concern in Meg’s reply wasn’t just for show.

‘Goodness, no. You were just following orders. A good servant doesn’t ask questions.’ She leaned a little closer and Jacob knew her well enough to see she was preparing to pounce. ‘What was it you were asked to do? You said someone was killed…’

‘I can’t tell you.’ The man sat back abruptly and reached yet again for the bottle, the contents of which he’d already reduced by half. ‘After the accident he said I’d lose my job if I spoke of his involvement to anyone, and that he’d make sure I never found another place. I can’t risk that. I want to be married, but I need more money saved before my girl’s father will let us wed. If I lose her too, on top of everything else…’

With the unpredictability of a drunkard, he reeled forward, whispering now but so loudly Jacob could still hear every word.

‘It was a viscount that died, you s-see,’ he hiccupped, mere inches from Meg’s nose. ‘An important man. I heard the magistrate’s been asking around but I daren’t tell him what I know. The man’s widow has been blaming the new viscountess, rumours say, but how can I say otherwise? I’d lose my place or maybe even hang, and either of those would mean I couldn’t marry my Agnes next spring.’

The man poured himself another measure, his hand quaking so hard the neck of the bottle clinked against his glass. He was too drunk and preoccupied to notice his confidante had been shocked into silence, but Jacob saw how Meg had paled beneath her hood, her rigid face a perfect reflection of his own.

It was him? He killed my brother?

Jacob felt the room sway. The braying laughter and rough shouts quieted as the truth dawned on him, little by little like cold water dripping from a leaking tap. This complete and utter stranger had just admitted responsibility for what had befallen Anthony, and yet he couldn’t quite take it in, disbelief and confusion harrying him as he gripped the edge of his table to keep himself upright. He should have been enraged, blindly furious now he was at last in the same room as the person who had caused so much pain, but as he met Meg’s eye over the top of the pitiful man’s bowed head he realised the full truth still wasn’t in their grasp.

The real guilty party isn’t him, though, is it? Whoever ordered him to tamper with the gig is the real killer—and for Meg’s sake I must find out who that was.

He saw her throat move above the edge of her cloak. He knew without needing to be told that she had no intention of stopping now they were so close to uncovering the full picture, and with grim admiration he nodded, no words necessary while their minds were bent on the same path.

Meg took a visibly deep breath. ‘This all sounds terribly unfair. You shouldn’t have to keep secrets for such a brute.’ With a trace of wariness, she laid her hand on the man’s arm, a small but comforting gesture Jacob knew from experience was disarmingly effective. ‘I wonder… Would you leave his employ if you knew you had another job waiting for you?’

The man peered blearily at the dainty fingers resting on his sleeve. ‘In a heartbeat,’ he slurred, ‘but that can’t happen. He’s an important man too. I know too much for him to let me go willingly, and who would employ me if I left against his wishes?’

‘I think I may know one person.’

The gentle hand on his arm had been the invitation to step into her trap, but it was the sympathetic smile Meg gave him that made the stranger spring it. He gazed at her trustfully with all the gratefulness of a drunk and unhappy man seeking solace, and he didn’t try to resist when she slipped that soothing hand under his elbow and began to help him to his feet.

‘Come with me, sir. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.’

Chapter Fourteen

Meg wasn’t sure whether it was the cold night air or the mention of Jacob’s name that made the stranger sober up so quickly.

His eyes were blank and horrified in the moonlight. ‘I’m so sorry, my lord,’ he garbled for at least the fourth time. ‘I swear I had no idea your brother would be harmed. My master said it was just a warning—’

‘Not a particularly effective one.’

Jacob’s voice was like a shard of broken glass. ‘I realise you’re not at fault for what happened. I must, however, insist you tell me who is.’

‘Please, my lord. Surely you know I can’t?’ The man sounded desperate, his panic deeply uncomfortable to listen to. ‘As I said to the lady, my master forbade me to speak of it. I wouldn’t have breathed a word if I hadn’t taken too much to drink.’

He turned to Meg, staring imploringly at her as if she might support him, but that was not a wise choice.

‘Don’t look to “the lady” for help. Do you know who she is?’ Jacob demanded angrily. ‘She’s my wife—the person currently taking the blame for what you did. Every moment you spend refusing to speak is another she has to bear a burden not meant for her to carry. I’m amazed you can bring yourself to stand in front of her.’

Even in the gloom, Meg saw sweat break out on the man’s brow. ‘My lady… I…’

He seemed ready to throw himself on his knees. He was shaking, but not from the drink, and she felt a swell of pity at the keenness of his fear. Jacob stood at his full imposing height, gazing down with barely concealed wrath, but he checked slightly when she lightly touched his wrist.

‘Jacob, wait. Let me.’

He frowned, but didn’t try to stop her as she took a careful half-step closer to where the stranger cowered.

‘Sir. What is your name?’