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Perhaps he had a daughter. A daughter on the threshold of womanhood, maybe even a virgin. Now that might be worth looking into.
The assassin's irritation vanished. He'd have to find out the dead fellow's name, get some information on his background, his family. Then, he'd decide whether or not this was worth pursuing.
That line of thought reminded him that there was probably a message awaiting him from the Continent—a message whose contents he was eager to read.
He urged his horses into a trot.
Jamie Knox's body was discovered two hours later.
Known for his punctuality, Knox was missed within twenty minutes of the time when he'd been expected to report for duty at the front gates. And since he only lived a mile away and traveled to work by foot rather than by carriage, it seemed logical to send a groundskeeper to his cottage to find out what was keeping him.
His puzzled wife assured the servant that Jamie had left for work at the usual time. That fact aroused everyone's suspicions—enough to check out Knox's walking route more thoroughly.
It was one of the young gardeners who found him, coming upon Knox's lifeless body in a thicket of brush.
Wild-eyed, the lad backed away from the corpse, taking off for the front gates at a dead run. In a voice trembling with tears and dread, he blurted the situation out to the guards.
Pandemonium broke loose.
Breanna had just arranged for tea to be served in the sitting room, and Wells was congratulating Anastasia and Damen on becoming expectant parents, when the ruckus outside reached their ears.
“What on earth is going on?” Breanna murmured, moving aside the sitting-room curtain and peering out. She started. “Something's wrong.”
She dropped the curtain, her face pale as she turned to Wells.
“I'll find out,” he said at once.
“I'll go with you,” Damen added quickly. He jumped up from the settee and followed Wells into the hall.
Anastasia and Breanna exchanged glances. Then, without a word, they left the sitting room, joining the men as they headed for the front door.
The pounding started before Wells could reach his post.
He hurried forward, flung open the door.
“What is it?” he demanded, meeting the grave stare of Albert Mahoney, the head of the security staff he'd personally hired to safeguard the estate.
“One of my guards,” Mahoney replied, not mincing any words. “Knox. He's been killed. Shot to death.”
“Oh my God.” Breanna's hand flew to her mouth, “Here?”
“No, ma'am. On his way to work.” Mahoney swallowed, turning to face Breanna with a tight, drawn expression. “From what we can tell, he was robbed. His money's missing. So's his timepiece. And, of course, his gun. He must have been grabbed from behind, which would explain why he didn't have a chance to draw his weapon. My guess is he fought back. And the thief shot him.”
“How close to our gates?” Anasta
sia demanded “Where exactly did you find him?”
Seeing Anastasia for the first time, Mahoney blinked, his head whipping from Anastasia to Breanna and back again.
“Mr. Mahoney, this is my cousin—the Marchioness of Sheldrake,” Breanna managed, her voice shaky. “And her husband, Lord Sheldrake, head of the House of Lockewood. I'm sure you've heard of him.”
“I have.” Mahoney gave a half bow. “An honor to meet you both. Sorry it has to be under such grim circumstances.”
“As are we,” Damen replied.
“Speak freely, Mr. Mahoney,” Breanna advised him. “Both Lord and Lady Sheldrake are aware of why you've been hired. They know the entire story, since it affects them, too.”
“Very well” The guard nodded his compliance, turned to address Anastasia. “We found Knox in the bushes off the path leading to the manor—around the curve, about halfway between the rear of the estate and the front gates.”
