“Mary, you heard them well enough to know that?” Prudence had gone very still, and her cheeks and neck were splotched with red. “How come you never told anyone?”
“It ain’t my place to talk about it.” Mary cast a wary glance around the tavern. “And like Finch said, no one ever asked me.”
“What else did you hear, Mary?” Prudence asked.
Mary glanced up, tears in her eyes. “It were Miss Rose I felt sorry for. Poor thing.”
“Mary, what did you hear?” Finch asked. “You can tell us.”
“She found out about his shady business. At the ball. Lord Ashford told her what he knew about the smuggling.” Mary drained her cider and raised her hand for another. “Lady Wentworth confronted Lord Wentworth about it and they fought.”
“Lady Wentworth didn’t know before that night?” Sebastian asked.
“I don’t think so,” Mary said quietly. “From what I heard, Lady Wentworth was not happy. Said something about her father turning over in his grave. Said something about how it would kill her father if he weren’t already dead to know what Lord Wentworth had done with her dowry.”
“Right. It was her money,” Finch said to Sebastian. “She brought itinto the marriage. Saved the estate from ruin, from what we heard.”
Sebastian had not known that. Finally, he was getting somewhere.
“What happened after you found the body?” Sebastian asked Finch.
Finch scratched the back of his neck. “I ran back to tell Lord Wentworth. He was in the library with Hargrave—they looked like they’d been having some intense discussion. When I told them what I’d found, his lordship seemed properly shocked. Collapsed beside her body, weeping and carrying on.”
“And then?”
“Hargrave sent me to fetch the constable from the village. Told me to ride hard.” Finch took a long drink. “But here’s the strange thing—when I went to saddle my horse, Thorncroft told me Hargrave had just taken another horse and ridden off in the opposite direction from the village.”
Sebastian’s pulse quickened, but he kept his voice level. “Perhaps he had other business to attend to?”
“At one in the morning? After a murder?” Finch shook his head. “Thorncroft said he was gone for hours. Didn’t return until well after sunrise.”
Prudence nodded. “I remember that. I was up with Lizzie—she was Lady Wentworth’s maid, and she was beside herself with grief. We were in the kitchen trying to comfort her when Hargrave came back. He looked like he’d been riding hard, and when he heard us talking about what might have happened, he flew into a rage. Threatened to dismiss us all if we didn’t keep our mouths shut.”
Sebastian’s mind raced. Hours. Plenty of time to ride to Ashford Hall and plant the murder weapon.
“What happened to Lizzie?” Sebastian asked.
Another glance between Finch and Prudence.
“She was killed not long after Lady Wentworth,” Prudence said. “Thrown from her horse.”
Murdered. That’s the word she should have used.
Sebastian drew in a deep breath. Should he say it? Yes, he had to act boldly or he would never find the answers he needed. “You all think Lord Wentworth murdered her.”
Mary gasped. Prudence and Finch exchanged another look.
“We have no way of knowing what really happened that night,” Prudence said finally.
“That’s right. None whatsoever,” Mary said, a little too quickly.
“But that’s what some of us believe,” Prudence said. “Including me.”
“And me,” Finch said.
Sebastian covertly watched Mary while pretending to focus on lifting his tankard to his mouth. A shimmer of perspiration on her forehead told him she was nervous.
She knew more than she was saying. Had she been outside the door when Lord Wentworth had brought the candlestick down on his wife’s head? Like she’d mentioned, no one noticed her. She could have been there, invisible.
