“True.” I frowned, puzzling over the matter. There were servants everywhere in a household this size. “But given his potential motive for entering that way, stealth would have been required. Maybe he was slyer than we imagine.” I paused. “Or the staff lied about seeing him.”
I glanced up to discover that Mr. Hislop’s brow was furrowed, his head turned to the side as if in concentration. My nerves tightened in anticipation. “Now, you’ve thought of something.”
His brow still crinkled, he nodded once. “I have. Though I dinna ken if it’s any help to ye.”
“Tell me anyway.”
The corners of his lips quirked upward at my eagerness. “Only callers o’ sufficient rank and respectability are allowed through the main entrance, ’tis true. But that doesna mean no gentlemen are ever turned away.” His sparse white eyebrows lifted. “If they’re rough or disreputable in appearance, Mr. Tait has been known to block their entry, or send ’em to the tradesmen’s entrance wi’ a flea in their ears.”
Gage’s gaze met mine. This, then, was how a man dressed as a gentleman might have entered the castle, but not been included on the ledger. He needn’t have come through the tunnel from the abbey, but through the tradesmen’s entrance. Though how that helped us, I didn’t know. In all likelihood, the body was still Helmswick. But it presented a curious new possibility.
I thanked the sprightly hall porter and returned to Tait, who stood waiting for me near the entrance. His expression was inscrutable, and I suspected it would require great provocation to induce a reaction from him.
“Yes, my lady,” he intoned.
“Do you recall in the last month or more whether the castle received any visitors you turned away? Men dressed as gentlemen who perhaps were not behaving as one?”
“Actually . . . yes, I do.” His voice registered surprise, even though his face did not. “He called three or four weeks ago, on or around the fifteenth, on horseback. Though how he was able to maintain his seat, I dare not speculate.” He lifted his nose into the air. “He was coarse and uncouth, and smelled strongly of the ale sold down at the village pub. I wasn’t about to let him step one foot further into the castle, despite his threats.”
“What threats?” Gage asked, moving closer.
“Oh, the usual nonsense about his having my head for not doing as he bid. He was naught but a trumped-up mushroom. Certainly not a gentleman, no matter the quality of his clothes.”
Gage and I exchanged a look. “So you simply sent him on his way, and he went?” he clarified.
“Not precisely. He stormed out of here and then around to the servants’ entrance, where he tried to slip past.” His brow furrowed with displeasure. “But I had anticipated just such a thing, so I sent a footman there to forestall him.”
“Who was it he was so anxious to see?”
“Lord Helmswick.”
I was hard-pressed not to react to this information, and the butler nodded in recognition.
“Yes, I know. I should have remembered it sooner.”
“And yet by that point, Lord Helmswick was no longer in residence?” Gage asked, choosing not to linger on this oversight.
“That is correct. And when I told the gentleman . . .” he emphasized the term witheringly “. . . this, he insisted on speaking with Lady Helmswick instead. Well, I was not about to subject her ladyship to his vulgar petition, especially when he would not even give me his name, so I elected to take it to one of her brothers instead. Lord John was the first I located, and he requested that he be allowed to meet with him in my parlor. Naturally, I agreed. Though I was not party to whatever was said.”
But that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard it. In my experience, servants often listened at doors, and many times those of the highest ranks were the worst eavesdroppers. To have a tasty morsel of gossip to share around the dinner table was currency almost better than gold. Of course, the senior staff stooped to share only with other senior staff where they dined in the housekeepers’ rooms, while the lower shared with their fellow lower ranks in the servants’ hall, but at some point the chatter would inevitably breach the divide to spread among the others.
In this case, I wondered if the butler might be telling the truth. For otherwise, I expected Bree would have caught some whiff before now of this mysterious man’s visit and the conversation held in the butler’s parlor.
Gage propped a hand on his hip, his own expression thoughtful as he examined the butler. “When their conversation ended, was he escorted off the premises?”
“Indeed he was. And that was the last I saw of him.”
That the reserved butler felt the need to add this last statement, unprompted, seemed out of character. However, he continued to stand unmoved by either my or Gage’s regard.
My husband thanked him for his assistance and then asked where we might locate Lord John.
“I believe you shall find him in the library. That’s usually where he can be found at this hour of the day.”
True to Tait’s word, Lord John was seated in a deep wingback chair before one of the windows overlooking the courtyard below. Sunlight streamed through the glass, bleaching his blond hair almost white and casting a latticed shadow over the pages of the book he held open in his lap. But rather than reading, his dark gaze was trained on the floor before him, his thoughts far away, and not in a happy place. He did not look up until we stood before him, and even then he had to blink several times before he registered our presence.
“Lord John, might we have a moment of your time?” Gage asked politely.
He hesitated, the pupils of his eyes dilating, but then he seemed to shake himself. “Yes.” He glanced down at the open book. “Yes, of course.” Closing it with a snap, he set it on the table at his elbow. “What can I do for you?”
Gage handed me to the jonquil wingback chair opposite Lord John before drawing a ladder-back chair from a nearby table for himself, forming a triangle. “We understand you spoke with a man in the butler’s parlor some three or four weeks ago who was demanding to speak with Lord and Lady Helmswick.”
His eyes widened and he turned his head to the side as he gasped, “Oh heavens. Yes, I’d forgotten about that. I should have recalled him immediately.”
But for all his show of surprise, somehow it appeared too practiced, as if he had been expecting just such a question to arise at some point. If that were the case, why hadn’t he told us earlier?
Gage crossed one leg over the opposite knee at ease. “Who was he?”
“He said his name was Patrick Renton.” He tapped the arm of his chair. “Though I have wondered if that was really his name, or if he was using an alias.” He shrugged. “Whatever the case, he was barely clinging to civility, let alone the status of a gentleman.”
“Tait indicated he was intoxicated.”
He tipped his head to the side in consideration. “More tipsy than fully disguised. But yes, most definitely in his cups.”
“And what did he want with Helmswick?”
He folded his hands over his abdomen. “He said Helmswick owed him money.”
Gage and I shared a speaking glance. And yet Lord John hadn’t thought to mention this before?
“How much?”
Lord John named an amount that sent my eyebrows shooting toward my hairline. While not ruining, it was undoubtedly a staggering amount.
My husband frowned. “Did he explain how the earl had come to owe him such a large sum?”
His mouth was tight with disapproval. “As I imagine you suspect. On a game of chance.”
I turned my head toward the window, watching the dust motes dance in the beams of the sun. Helmswick wouldn’t be the first nobleman to win and lose large sums of money gambling. It was almost modus operandi for some members of that class. Yet, thus far, no one had mentioned the earl being enamored by such play, or even a regular at any of
the ton’s gaming hells. While not a particular patron, Gage was familiar enough with such establishments to know the usual roster.
“Did Mr. Renton make any threats?” Gage asked, trying to grasp how desperate the man was for money. After all, he’d been motivated enough to follow Helmswick here.
“Oh yes. Claimed he was in possession of a secret so damaging that if it became known it would utterly ruin Helmswick.”
I stiffened. Lady Helmswick had also claimed to possess a secret that would force her husband to let her live separately from him, and then denied it. Could these secrets be one and the same?
“But he gave no indication as to what this secret might be?” Gage pressed, unaware of my thoughts.
“I told him he would have to take the matter up with Helmswick when he returned from the continent. That it was none of our affair.” His expression hardened. “But if he tried to come anywhere near my sister or Sunlaws Castle again, the duke would have him charged with harassment and trespassing.”
Gage’s eyes narrowed slightly. “And that’s the last you saw of him?”
Lord John nodded. “I suppose he took my words to heart.”
“Did you tell Lady Helmswick any of this?” I asked.
His gaze flicked to me. “No. And I’ll thank you not to do so. She doesn’t need to be troubled by the matter. Not when she can’t do anything about it.”
Gage asked a few more inconsequential questions before we took our leave from him. Ever conscious of spying eyes and attentive ears, I waited until we’d closed the door to our sitting room before speaking.
“Please tell me you found all of that as suspicious, and exasperating, as I did?” I snapped as I sank down on the sofa, tossing my gloves to the side.
His eyes were hard with cynicism as he perched on the arm of the chair opposite me, crossing his arms over his chest. “Do you mean the part when Lord John pretended not to have remembered the incident until now, or the part where he ever so politely refrained from pointing out that this Renton fellow had a clear motive to kill and rob Helmswick?”
“Except all this time he’s stringently denied the possibility that the body could be Helmswick’s.” I sank deeper into the cushions, awkwardly tugging at the buttons running down the length of my redingote to reveal my peacock blue gown beneath.
“Maybe he’s changed his mind.”
“Or maybe . . .” I bit my lip, struggling to puzzle my way through this unforeseen development. “Could Lord John be attempting to cast doubts on the identity of the corpse?”
Gage’s gaze dropped from the spot he had been staring at on the ceiling. “By introducing Patrick Renton to the equation—a man dressed in gentleman’s clothes, who has not been seen in three weeks.” He frowned. “But if Renton is the victim, then who is supposed to have killed him and then hidden him in the crypt? And why not tell us about him earlier? Why wait for Tait or one of the other servants to mention him?”
I couldn’t answer that. Nor could I explain how precisely Mr. Renton fit in to all we had learned. Was he involved somehow, or was he merely a distraction? From everything we’d learned, Lord Helmswick appeared to have departed from Sunlaws on December seventh, and yet this Mr. Renton had not come calling until approximately a week later. Had Helmswick returned to the castle unseen? Or was all of this naught but wild supposition?
Gage pushed to his feet, crossing the room to gaze out the window at the sun-dappled countryside. “I’ll write to Anderley and ask him to look into this Mr. Renton, if that’s his name. There’s every possibility he visited Helmswick’s estate before coming here.” His brow was heavy with his ruminations, his muscled frame rippling with the need to do something.
“You wish you could travel to Haddington, don’t you?”
He didn’t attempt to deny it. “A great deal of what has been going on here does seem to hinge on whatever Anderley uncovers there.” He released his grip on the drapery, stepping back from the window. “But my place is here.”
“With me, you mean?” I searched his beloved face, seeing the lines of worry. “Trevor is here. If you feel you should go, you could set him as my guard. I’m sure he’d even sleep on that dreadfully uncomfortable sofa in my bedchamber if you wished.”
His mouth creased into a brief smile. “I am glad your brother is still here with us, but no, I don’t think that’s necessary. Anderley is more than capable.”
“Maybe so.” I took hold of his hand as he sat down beside me. “But I can tell that does not ease your concerns.” I lifted my hand to run my finger down the center of his forehead and over his nose, smoothing out the grooves wrought there. “Or is it merely impatience?”
He chuckled in self-deprecation, and recaptured my hand, bringing it to his lips. “Let us wait to see what Anderley’s first letter reveals.”
I nodded, a frisson of awareness sweeping down my spine as he turned my hand over to reveal my wrist. His hot breath feathered over my skin there, followed by the light play of his lips and then the gentle sweep of his tongue. “I thought you intended to revisit the brewery,” I managed to say with as much insouciance as I could muster.
I’m afraid it wasn’t very convincing, for he lifted his eyes to gaze at me through the fringe of his lashes, the corners of his lips curling into a roguish grin. “The matter can wait while I devote a few moments of my time to my darling wife.”
I couldn’t help but smile at his words. However, all too swiftly he released his grip on my hand and bent forward. I blinked down at him as I felt a tug on one of the laces of my half boots. “What are you doing?”
“Removing your shoes.”
“Well, yes, I suppose that’s obvious. But why?”
He made quick work of the first, pulling it from my foot and then bending to the task of untying the other. “Because I’ve been informed that women in your state appreciate having their feet rubbed.”
“Oh, well, I . . .” I stammered as the second boot was whisked from my foot and Gage swept my legs up into his lap. At the feel of his fingers on my bare foot, I giggled and squirmed. “You know, I’m rather ticklish.”
“Then I shall take extra care.” He added more pressure to the arch of my foot, and I gasped at the pleasure, closing my eyes.
Though I hadn’t complained, my feet were sore. Along with my back, and the injuries to my shoulder and side, though the latter two pained me less than they had the day before. But I silently thanked whoever had told him to offer to rub my feet, for it was unlikely I ever would have asked him to do so.
“Kiera.”
I stared up at him through half-lidded eyes, noting he’d ceased his ministrations.
“If you don’t stop making those noises, I won’t be able to continue.”
I recognized then the intensity of his focus, the soft flush of color in his high cheekbones, the glitter of desire in his eyes.
I blushed, realizing I had been rather vocal in my enjoyment.
He smiled devilishly. “Remind me to do this when your shoulder is healed.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Fortunately, we did not have to wait much longer for Anderley’s first missive. Gage had just returned from his second visit to Colum’s friends at the brewery, and I was seated before the writing desk in our sitting room, trying to organize all the aspects of this inquest into some semblance of an order, when Trevor burst into the room. From the appearance of his riding clothes, he’d just gone on a hard gallop through the surrounding countryside.
“I was striding through the guardroom, when Mr. Tait mentioned that the post had arrived. I thought you’d want to see this immediately.” He passed Gage the letter, before sinking down onto the leather ottoman.
“It’s from Anderley,” my husband declared, and broke open the seal.
I hastened over to the door leading to my bedchamber, and upon finding Bree inside flipping through the dress
es in my wardrobe, I gestured for her to join us. Sinking down on the sofa beside my husband, whose gaze seemed to skim quickly over the contents, I urged him, “Read it aloud. I don’t want to miss anything, or wait for you to paraphrase.”
He flicked a glance of mild annoyance at me, but then began to read. “He says . . .”
The state of affairs here in Haddington is much as Lady Helmswick feared. The cholera has spread throughout the village and surrounding countryside. So much so that the housekeeper at Lord Helmswick’s estate—a diligent, but chatty woman named Mrs. Coble—has insisted that everyone wear kerchiefs tied around their faces when they leave the manor to prevent them from inhaling the bad air. Seeing as Mrs. Gage urged me to take all precautions, I have followed suit.
As to Lord Helmswick himself, no one here has seen or heard from him since he departed the estate with his wife and children in the early hours of December sixth. Lord Helmswick’s valet, Mr. Warren, is also absent, having accompanied them. The steward is an earnest, if somewhat blundering fellow, and he did mention he’d expected a response to a letter he’d posted to his lordship sometime in mid-December, but he also admitted that the earl had failed to respond to many such communications in the past.
In truth, though they have been gracious about my presence here, thanks to the Duke of Bowmont’s letter of introduction, they did not seem altogether concerned about his lordship’s absence until I made a point of it. Since then, they have begun to come to me with villains behind every corner. Most of them are not worth the ink to record, but I did find one of particular interest.
A few days after his lordship’s departure, a Mr. Patrick Renton, a gentleman from one of the neighboring villages, called at the manor and demanded to speak with him. When told his lordship was not in residence, he asked for her ladyship, and when told she was also absent he seems to have made rather a nuisance of himself. So much so that the staff feared he might become violent.
Apparently, Mr. Renton was not unknown to the staff, for he’d called at the manor before. They were not aware of what his business with Lord Helmswick was, but I inferred they were baffled by his lordship’s willingness to continue receiving the belligerent fellow. One young maid admitted that she believed it had something to do with the earl’s kept woman, who had lived in a cottage at the edge of the estate, practically beneath his wife’s nose, but she couldn’t explain why.
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