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“I asked to see it,” he said. “The guy extended it towards me and bragged about how he had stolen it off a man years before.”
“Did you ask if he killed the man?”
“I did,” he replied, “but the man was drunk, and he couldn’t remember if he did or not. My father’s murderer couldn’t even recall if he had killed him.”
“How did you react?”
Guy shrugged. “Not very well,” he admitted. “I reared back and punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious.”
“You showed impressive restraint, considering this man killed your father.”
“That may be true, but I was forced to carry him to jail,” Guy said. “It would have been much easier if he had walked on his own accord.”
“You must have felt some satisfaction from hitting him.”
“I did, and I felt even greater satisfaction as I watched him hang,” Guy shared. “The prison guards interrogated him, and he admitted to killing three people, but I believe the number was much greater.”
“Why is that?”
“After I arrested him, I searched his rented room near the tavern, and I discovered many rather costly trinkets.”
“You believe he stole them?”
“I have no doubt,” Guy replied. “Some people keep trophies of their accomplishments. I believe he kept them as a reminder of what he did.”
“That seems rather heartless.”
“I agree, but it wouldn’t be the first time I have come across this,” Guy said. “Some criminals want to relive their crimes over and over again.”
Hawthorne gave him an approving look. “I am glad you caught him.”
“I wish I had caught him sooner. It took entirely too long to get him off the street, and he had killed more people during that time.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
Guy clenched his jaw. “I know, but I do not like to even say his name. Frankly, I do not want to think of him as a person; not after what he did to me and my family.”
“I can respect that.”
“He ruined my life,” Guy said. “I was going to be a professor at Cambridge. I had it all set up, but I didn’t have enough time to accomplish it.”
“You still went to Cambridge,” Hawthorne remarked. “That is quite an accomplishment.”
“But I didn’t finish what I had set out to do.”
“Perhaps, but life is rarely that simple. It is complicated, messy, and rarely goes the way we plan.”
Guy huffed. “Pardon me if I find your words a little ironic.”
“Why is that?”
“You are a marquess.”
“That doesn’t mean I am immune to heartache and sorrow,” Hawthorne said. “I may live in grandeur, but I still bleed as any other man does.”
Guy shifted in his saddle. “You are right, of course. I do apologize for my insensitive remark.”
“My father wasn’t murdered, but he died much too young,” Hawthorne shared. “I’m afraid I didn’t take the news well, and I accepted an assignment that took me away from my home for many years.”
