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As it happened, being outside was the best place to be. It gave me the perfect spot to see Mr. Hardwick as he ambled in my direction, clutching a piece of paper in one hand and a brown leather bag in the other. With his head lowered to read, he didn’t see me.
Harry emerged from the changing room and was about to speak when I put a hand up to hush him. I indicated the slowly approaching Mr. Hardwick. We watched as he stopped suddenly and pressed his fingertips to his forehead. With a twist of his lips, he scrunched the paper into a ball and tossed it into a nearby hedge. He strode towards us.
“I want to see that note before we speak to him,” Harry whispered as he turned away. He inspected his bucket while I crouched to sweep dust into my pan.
Mr. Hardwick entered the changing rooms without so much as a glance in our direction.
Harry reached the hedge before me and fished out the ball of paper. He flattened it and read. “’You knew what Rigg-Lyon did and did not try to stop him. You should shoulder just as much of the blame. Gentlemen who lack honor face pistols at dawn.’”
“Pistols at dawn!” I repeated. “The writer of this letter is in the wrong century.”
Harry turned the paper over but it was blank. “It’s unsigned, but the writing is masculine, as is the style of the threat.”
“Whoever wrote it clearly blames Rigg-Lyon for something and thinks Hardwick is complicit. His life may be in danger.”
Harry glanced at the entrance to the changing room. “The writer of this note might not wait for a duel, particularly if Hardwick doesn’t comply.”
“Given that he threw the note away, I’d say he has no intention of complying.”
Harry inspected the note again. “There are no identifying details on here. No way Hardwick can contact the author and organize a duel.”
I gasped. “Hardwick must know who sent it. Or the authorthinksHardwick knows, or will work it out, and so didn’t bother with his name.”
Voices echoed off the tiled walls in the changing room, and soon the players spilled out. The forest-green jersey of the Polo and Gun Club team emerged first, led by their interim captain, Barnaby Hardwick. Harry and I pretended to work as they passed us, quietly discussing tactics.
Once all the players rounded the corner and were out of sight, Harry and I wordlessly entered the changing room. We were of one mind: search Mr. Hardwick’s belongings.
There were several brown leather bags lined up on the changing room benches with hats on hooks above and polished shoes slipped under the bench, but only one sported the stamped initials BH. Harry pulled out clothing items from Barnaby Hardwick’s bag and handed them to me. I rifled through pockets but found only a single handkerchief. The only other items in the bag were a Tattersalls catalog and the cap Mr. Hardwick should be wearing.
We realized too late that it meant he would be returning to retrieve it.
“What the devil?” Mr. Hardwick strode up to Harry and snatched the cap out of his grip. He shook it at the exit. “How dare you! Get out!”
“We will,” Harry assured him. “But first you need to explain why you lied to us.”
Mr. Hardwick bristled. “I did no such thing.”
“You told us Rigg-Lyon never ruined high-born girls, that his mistresses were all entertainers. We have it on good authority that’s not the case, and you knew.”
He sniffed. “Perhaps he strayed once or twice into green pastures. I can’t recall. I wasn’t his keeper. Anyway, they may have been high born, but they weren’t well-bred if they allowed themselves to be ruined.”
The sheer force of my anger was like a punch to my gut, knocking the wind out of me. I couldn’t speak, it was so overwhelming. All I could do was stare at him and shake my head in disbelief. Was this what passed as a gentleman?
I may not have been able to utter my horror at his words, but Mr. Hardwick certainly felt the force of my anger. He backed away, eyeing me closely as if I were a bomb.
Harry subtly closed his hand around my fist in an attempt to calm me down before I scared off our quarry. “We also know Rigg-Lyon was doping Panther,” he said.
Mr. Hardwick stepped forward, baring his teeth and pointing his finger at Harry. He was more upset about this accusation than the one about Rigg-Lyon ruining young ladies. “You can’t go around accusing him without proof!”
“We have proof. The groom he blackmailed into injecting Panther admitted it.”
“He’s lying!”
“Considering that you and Rigg-Lyon were so close, it stands to reason you knew about it.”
“I did not! You need proof, Armitage, and I don’t think you have any. The word of an idiot groom means nothing.”
“Why so vehement in your denial?” I asked, finally finding my voice. “Not just now, but also at the cricketer’s party? Your reaction is excessive if you truly didn’t know.”
