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“The question is what we do next. I appreciate that you came all this way, Hugh. I invite you to ride back to the house with me to discuss this—along with what happened earlier this evening—over a glass of whisky.”
“Am I included in that invitation?” I ask.
“I fear not,” Gray says. “There isn’t room in the coach. You must run behind it like a loyal Dalmatian.”
I narrow my eyes.
“Are you not always grumbling about the lack of proper exercise options for young women?” he says. “A good run should do the trick.”
McCreadie looks at me. “Yes, you’re included, Mallory. In the conversation and the whisky. And possibly the coach but—”
“Duncan?” Annis’s voice rings out. “Where the devil are you? I can hear you and that girl of yours.” She rounds a garden and spots us. “There you are. And you, too.”
“Me, too,” McCreadie says. “What is my name again, Lady Leslie?”
“If you don’t know it, then I certainly cannot help you. You are an officer of the law, and that is all I need of you right now. Come along.”
McCreadie salutes.
Annis peers at him. “Have you been drinking?” She doesn’t even wait for an answer, just waves again. “I have oil of peppermint inside to disguise the smell on your breath. My husband buys it by the jug.”
“Annis?” Gray says. “Hugh is not going inside with you. He met us out-of-doors because we agree that having him here is not in your best interests.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s a criminal officer you have summoned to assist in the investigation of your husband’s murder,” Gray says. “Except your husband is still alive. Which means your foresight, while admirable, may seem somewhat suspicious.”
“My husband is already dead. He only needs to stop breathing to make it official. Gordon has accused me of his murder himself, and his sister is waiting to be sure I am arrested the moment Gordon is pronounced dead. I am protecting myself against an inevitable outcome.”
“Maybe,” I say, as softly as I can. “I agree it is logical, but most peoplearen’tlogical. Are the newspapers going to commend you for being so prepared? Or are they going to wonderwhyyou were so prepared? Wonder why you showed such foresight… when you are a woman, supposedly ruled by emotion. If you didn’t kill your husband, you should be prostrate at his bedside, wailing in grief. If you are not what they expect…?” I meet her gaze. “I think you already know what happens when we are not what people expect.”
Her eyes lock with mine for a beat past comfort. Then she draws back sharply and grinds out, “I take your point. I do not like it, but I take it.”
Annis looks at McCreadie. “You ought not to come into the house, but I would appreciate your advice. How do I handle this so that I do not appear guilty? Should I show grief, even if others know I will not grieve? Or will fakery act against my case?”
“I would suggest—”
A scream from the house cuts McCreadie short. The sound echoes through open windows, and we all go still.
“The master!” a young woman shouts.
I brace for the next part.He is dead.That is what will come next, and I try to catch Annis’s expression, but it’s hidden in shadow.
“His door is locked!” the young woman continues. “Someone has locked his door.”
Annis exhales in something like relief and then hisses annoyance through her teeth. “This is why one ought not to hire simpering housemaids. That girl hasn’t a brain in her head.”
Annis starts walking. Then she turns.
“Duncan?” she says.
“Yes?”
“You are coming back inside, are you not?” She sees the answer in his glance toward the stables. “You cannot leave. Gordon is dying, and I am going to be charged with his murder. If I cannot have your friend here, then you must stay.”
“I have things to do,” Gray says gently. “Lord Leslie is not going to die tonight, and I have business, as well as—”
“My husband is dying. I will be charged with murder. I am surrounded by idiots and jackals.”
