Page 84 of The Case of the Curate

“Just His Lordship’s.”

Who had been in the grass around Dinah’s body.

“And Mr. Kemp.”

Who had also been by the body and run to the stables to send the boy for the doctor.

“None of the other gentlemen?” Rupert could barely hide his disappointment, although, of course, the muddy shoes could be hidden away, not necessarily put outside in the passage for cleaning.

“No, sir,” Vic said anxiously, clearly sensing he had let Rupert down. “Just the ladies.”

Rupert focused on his face. “Which ladies?”

*

A few minutes later, Rupert was back in the dining room—to find it empty of all save Newman, who was filling a plain silver flask from Lord Chadbon’s decanter. Hearing Rupert enter, he turned and grinned, raising the decanter.

“Want some? You seem to have missed out altogether.”

“Why not?” Rupert said amiably, keeping his gaze on Newman while he fished out his own flask. Men bonded over brandy. Apparently over helping themselves to their host’s brandy, too.

Newman duly pocketed his flask and took Rupert’s from him, generously pouring Chadbon’s grog like a perfect host. “Remember that pretty maid who collapsed the last time you were here?”

Rupert glanced at him in surprise. “I do.”

“Don’t know what happened to her, do you?” Newman held Rupert’s gaze as he handed over the full flask.

Rupert returned the stopper and shoved the flask into his pocket. “You should ask the butler, or one of the other servants. Why?”

“Lovely little thing,” Newman said nostalgically. “Yes, I know I’m a married man—very happily so, too—but a man can still look, can’t he?” He grinned. “Or is that a sin, Mr. Grande?”

“You should ask a clergyman,” Rupert said, and Newman laughed as he turned and led the way to the drawing room.

*

Lady Chadbon, being the perfect hostess, was hard to speak to alone. Kate had only just managed to claim the place on the sofa beside her when the gentlemen came in, distracting everyone. After a noticeable gap, Rupert followed at the back with Newman, who was laughing and clapping him on the back in friendly fashion.

There would not be long before tea arrived and held Kate up further. So as soon as the general chatter began to rise again, she hurtled into speech, keeping her voice low and confiding.

“Might I ask, my lady, what made His Lordship choose Sir Colin as our Tory ally in the matter of the bill?”

“Because he has influence, of course. And because they have been friends, if not always allies, since they were boys.”

“Ah, I see. I did hear a rumor that the Nyes used to live at Tetley Hall.”

“That’s right.”

“Then you must know him very well. I gather there has been great tragedy in his life?”

Lady Chadbon sighed and lowered her voice further. “Indeed. He was quite devoted to his first wife, who died much too young, before she could even provide him with an heir.”

“Did I not hear of some rivalry between him and Mr. Otteridge?”

Lady Chadbon looked scandalized. “Oh, no, my dear.” She leaned closer. “That was over quite a different sort of female—before Sir Colin’s marriage. Though not, I’m afraid, before Mr. Otteridge’s. That also should not be discussed.”

“Indeed not. I admit I do find myself feeling sorry for Sir Colin…” Not strictly true, but Kate was desperate to keep the conversation on the path she needed.

“I do too,” Lady Chadbon admitted. “The man might be a successful government minister, but he has had such constant, personal bad luck.”