Page 21 of Honor Unbound

A man in a long buttoned-down coat that looked like it perhaps had once been black strode across the factory floor to meet them. He had thick, mahogany hair and a confident bearing that made him quite handsome. He removed his gloves as he greeted them. “Lady Mary Cavindish? Of The Minerva Club fame?”

“Quite.” Lady Mary rested both her hands on the knob of her walking stick. “I was hoping to speak with you about the lawsuit between yourself and Mr. Trent. Is there someplace private we could talk?”

Mr. Gray frowned. “No need for privacy. Everyone here knew about the suit. And though I could never celebrate anyone’s murder, with Trent’s death the matter is now resolved. There isn’t much to speak about.”

“I appreciate your frankness.” Lady Mary tilted her head. “But couldn’t the new owner of the canning factory continue the suit? I understand Mrs. Trent now holds title.”

“And I’m told she is a reasonable woman.” Mr. Gray dragged his fingers through his hair. “Besides, the accident wasn’t the fault of this factory but of Trent’s.”

“Accident? You mean the poisoning and death of several men of the Royal Navy?”

Marie’s stomach turned. To die while fighting for one’s country at least had a purpose. To die from bad food seemed an insult to fighting men.

“My cans weren’t defective.” Gray crossed his arms over his chest. A thin, silvery scar crossed the top of his hand. “It was Trent’s canning process that caused those deaths. He didn’t heat his cans to a high enough temperature.”

“You sound very sure of that,” Marie said. The problem with looking into this murder was that she didn’t know enough, not about canning food or stab wounds or anything else useful. Marie was used to being the least educated person in the room but she was shrewd and had common sense, and that made up for a lot. She might not know quotes from famous books, but how many other people knew the odds of turning over a ten in a card game or how to find butterfish under rocks or seaweed?

Gray blinked and looked at her, as though he’d forgotten she was there. “I am sure.”

“How?” Lady Mary asked. “You couldn’t know about defects in Trent’s canning process unless someone told you, and I doubt that is something he would have admitted to.”

Mr. Gray remained silent.

“Or someone else told you,” Lady Mary said slowly. “Do you have a spy in Mr. Trent’s factory?”

“I didn’t say that, did I?” He looked across his factory floor when a loud bang sounded. He frowned. “I have to get back to work. You can tell Mrs. Trent I’ll be expecting her to pull the lawsuit from the docket.” And with a nod, he spun on his heel and strode away.

The sound of saws starting back up chased them from the factory. The din of the busy street sounded like blessed silence compared to the noise of the factory.

Marie tugged on her earlobe. “Well, what do you think? Did he seem like a man who could kill?”

Lady Mary said a few words to Ernest before turning to Marie. “Anyone can kill given the right circumstances. Cold-blooded murder is another question.” She pursed her lips as she climbed into the carriage.

Marie followed and settled across from her.

“What did you think of the man?” Lady Mary asked her. “Doyouthink he could have stabbed someone repeatedly?”

“I suppose if you can stab someone once you can do it several times.” She flopped back on the seat and chewed on her bottom lip. “It would be an awful messy business. If he comes home to his wife covered in blood, wouldn’t she notice? Wouldn’t his servants?”

“You’re assuming he’s married, and that logic applies to all our suspects.” Lady Mary tapped her chin. “Servants can be loyal or paid off. Same with wives. But someone must suspect that the person close to them was involved in a nasty business. You’re right, there would have been a great amount of blood.”

Marie grinned. “Maids will think about the cleaning up.”

Lady Mary tipped her head. “Yes. But they shouldn’t slouch, especially when training to become a lady’s companion. Sit up straight, dear.”

Marie bit back her scowl. She appreciated that her mistress was trying to improve her, but Marie couldn’t remember ever telling Lady Mary that she wanted something better than being a maid. As a maid she could speak as she wanted and sit how she felt.

Though her back was starting to ache whenever she scrubbed a floor. And she’d torn her nail awfully low cleaning a window. Lady’s companions probably didn’t have to worry about that sort of thing.

“Why don’t you like Mr. Burton?” Lady Mary’s voice startled Marie into proper posture.

“What?” Marie huffed. “I have no feelings one way or the other toward Mr. Burton.”

Lady Mary arched an eyebrow, her periwinkle eyes piercing.

“Fine.” Marie crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t know, but something about the man rubs me the wrong way. Too cocksure, by half. Puts his nose places it doesn’t belong. Do you know he reorganized the pantry the second week he was here?” It didn’t matter that even Mr. Stavers said the new arrangement was more efficient. A person shouldn’t start changing things until they’d been in a position for a good enough amount of time. That was only polite. “He’s too….” She searched her brain but couldn’t think of another appropriate adjective.

“Too handsome by half.”