“Enter.”
Lucas strode into the study at Stonebridge’s response. He’d made enquiries about the earl in London and found out very little. He was…tolerated by most, quite liked by a few. One of the most respected stud farm owners in the land, Tattersall’s men whispered of him in revered tones.
No gossip or scandal touched his name. There were a few wanton widows in his past, but no debauched innocents or angry mistresses that he had been able to uncover.
The earl generally kept to himself but did actively support various parliamentary bills including that of a George Rose, who was trying to get the Madhouse Act revised. Lucas agreed it was old-fashioned, but an unusual concern nevertheless.
“Stonebridge. Many thanks for letting me stay whilst I look into this dreadful matter.”
They shook hands and silently sized each other up. The earl’s eyes lingered on the scars, but to his credit, his expression did not change. He was shorter than himself, but Lucas could tell he had a wiry strength and surmised that he took an active interest in the horses.
His stubbled jaw was square and his hair cut severe – very much like the house. God forbid that Lucas took after his own manor.
Dark brown eyes took in Lucas’s height and breadth. “I’m glad my ward gave you the Oak Room. When my mother refurbished the house, she had all the old furnishings removed but couldn’t budge that huge damn bed. Thing weighed a ton and defeated ten men. I believe they nailed it to the floor.”
“I quite like it.”
“Probably shouldn’t tell you, but half the Stonebridge line was birthed in that bed.”
Lucas shrugged; he had no delicate feelings: he’d slept on dead men’s blooded coats and even a sheep once, which had actually been quite comfortable.
“Have a seat. Whisky? Brandy?”
Lucas smiled; the house itself may not be inviting but the host and his well-stocked drink’s cabinet certainly was.
“Whisky, I thank you.”
Stonebridge ambled to the cabinet, and Lucas felt himself relax. He generally didn’t like intruding on others’ homes, but there was something restful about not feeling as though you had to jabber all the time.
Sipping the amber liquid, Lucas wondered about the mention of a ward. Jasper hadn’t mentioned her, but he supposed a child was of little interest.
“What should we call you? Lord Helmdon?”
“I think for the moment, for my investigations, ’tis best to stick with Major. I find my size intimidates well enough. I’ll only use the title if I have to.”
“Very well, Major it is.”
“What can you tell me about the murders?” Lucas enquired.
As it happened, not a lot.
“The first woman, I know very little about,” he revealed. “I was away in Knutsford the day she was found by Ridges, my head groom, and the magistrate had the body removed before I returned. Bridget was maid to a local family. I think most people believed it to be an isolated event – a passing itinerant or some such.”
All very convenient, Lucas reflected. “And the second girl, a Miss Risley?” Lucas watched the earl swallow a large gulp and sit heavily.
“Ah. I was out in the woods one morning. I often do so, about eleven, walking a new pony. Had my dog with me. All of a sudden, the pup just went wild, running off hither and thither. Thought it must be a rabbit but I followed the little chap as he was pawing at something behind a nearby tree. I saw…” The earl’s voice choked and Lucas watched impassively as he brushed a shaking hand through his hair.
If he was shamming, it was well performed, but betrayers and killers always made the best actors. “You saw what?” he pressed.
“Christ. There was so much blood. More than a horse giving birth. She lay like a broken doll with those blue eyes staring up at me.”
“What did you do?”
“Heaved my guts up. What would you have done?”
Lucas nodded, acknowledging the earl’s anger, but he wasn’t here to make friends.
“I headed back and got men to rouse the magistrate and the local doctor. I also went and informed the girl’s parents.”
