Lady Brentwood laughed. “Bella is terribly ugly, but I adore her.”
“You know that your horse is ugly?” Greydon asked.
“I have eyes, don’t I?” Lady Brentwood joked. “But Bella and I are as thick as thieves and I know that she rather despises Shakespeare.”
Greydon gave her a baffled look. “How would you know such a thing?”
Lord Brentwood interjected, “Rosamond used to read to Bella in the stables.”
“You used to read to a horse?” Greydon asked.
Lady Brentwood shrugged. “I wanted my horse to be cultured and reading to Bella seemed like a good idea at the time.”
To his surprise, a laugh escaped his lips. “That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard, but thank you for making me laugh,” Greydon said.
Leaning closer to her horse, Lady Brentwood whispered, “Do not listen to him, Bella. You are the most cultured horse here.”
In response, Bella snorted and shook her head.
Lady Brentwood leaned back in her saddle with a satisfied look on her face. “Bella has taken no offense to your comments.”
Lord Brentwood smiled lovingly at his wife. “We have a stable full of beautiful stallions, but Rosamond is insistent on riding Bella.”
“You knew I would never part with Bella,” Lady Brentwood said.
“Yes, and I would expect no different from you,” Lord Brentwood responded, his words filled with pride. “You are an immensely loyal person.”
Greydon felt a twinge of jealousy at the love that was so evident between Lord and Lady Brentwood. When they spoke to one another, they seemed to exude happiness. If he didn’t count them both as friends, then he would find it rather obnoxious.
Turning his gaze towards Lady Enid, he asked, “How are you faring?”
“I am well,” came her quick reply. But her eyes didn’t match her words. They held a sadness to them that he found disconcerting. He suspected she was trying to hide her feelings but had forgotten that people’s eyes speak, giving far too much away.
As much as he wanted to press Lady Enid, he knew it wasn’t his place to do so. He was just her friend, at least he hoped she considered him as one.
Lord Brentwood’s voice drew back his attention. “I must pose the same question to you,” he stated. “How are you faring?’
“I am well,” Greydon said, using Lady Enid’s words. With any luck, Lord Brentwood wouldn’t press him on the issue.
But he was not so lucky.
“That wasn’t very convincing,” Lord Brentwood responded. “It is all right if you are not. It is not every day that one’s brother is murdered.”
Greydon knew that Lord Brentwood was just offering encouragement, but he found it to be rather vexing. What right did he have to tell him how he should feel? He wasn’t even sure how he felt at the moment. “I assure you that I will feel better once Lady Eugenie has been brought to justice for my brother’s murder.”
Lady Enid grew rigid in the saddle. “What do you know of your brother’s murder?”
“Nothing more than what was reported in the newssheets, but I intend to speak to the coroner,” Greydon replied. “I want to ensure the case is strong against Lady Eugenie.”
“Is it possible that the coroner made a mistake when he arrested Lady Eugenie?” Lady Enid asked.
Greydon furrowed his brow. Where was Lady Enid going with this? “It is not. She was found standing over my brother’s body with blood on her hands.”
“Yes, but there could have been another reason why she was there,” Lady Enid said. “Couldn’t there be?”
“It has been my experience that innocent people do not have blood of the deceased on their hands,” he replied.
“Perhaps there was a perfectly rational explanation for the blood being on her hands,” Lady Enid pressed.
