Raven (Gentlemen of the Order #2) - Adele Clee Page 0,3

cross the cobbled yard. A servant named Blent would be waiting near the kennels to escort him to the house.

The strange presence clawing at his shoulders followed him to the old stables. Finlay dismounted and led Corvus through the beamed entrance and into a stall. The absence of a lantern and tinderbox forced him to work in the gloom. While the lack of light proved odd in itself, the fact there wasn’t another horse in the block roused his suspicion.

Due to the nature of his work, Finlay was used to ambushing strangers in the dark. But the dogs sensed his approach, their sharp barks warning Blent of his arrival.

“Mr Cole?” the man said, slinking from the shadows. A little agitated by the animals’ growls, he slammed the kennel door shut and gestured urgently for Finlay to continue along the gravel path.

“Yes. You must be Blent.”

“Yes, sir. I’m to escort you to the house. Let me take your saddle-bag.” The servant took the leather bag and fell into step beside Finlay. “Sorry about the hounds, sir. They get restless at night.”

Blent was a young, handsome man, tall and slender with a round jaw and a kind, apologetic face. With nothing more than the faint glow of moonlight to guide their way, it was impossible to make a more detailed assessment.

“I’d prefer a savage dog to one that cowers at intruders,” Finlay said, wondering why Lady Adair kept hunting dogs when she did not entertain gentlemen from town.

“It would take more than a vicious bark to scare those souls brave enough to venture through the woods, sir.”

“Then why keep hounds?”

Blent paused before saying with some apprehension, “To track Miss Draper, sir. She’s taken to sleepwalking, and I’ve trained the dogs to follow her scent.” The servant cleared his throat and added, “I’m not breaking a confidence. The mistress said I’m to speak openly, answer any questions.”

What a relief. Finlay had worked cases where information had been less than forthcoming. The truth always came to light in the end.

“How long has Miss Draper been sleepwalking?”

“Two months, I’d say.” Blent gestured to the path veering right, past the thatched cottage covered in rambling musk roses. The vibrant white blooms seemed at odds with the stark surroundings. “But it’s been worse these last few weeks.”

A host of questions flitted through Finlay’s mind, but he should be careful what he said to Blent. Until proven otherwise, the man was a suspect in the attempted abduction of Jessica Draper.

“Has Miss Draper suffered a recent trauma, something to explain the sudden change in her behaviour?” Finlay remembered Jessica as a pleasant girl with an endearing naivety.

Blent failed to reply.

The hoot of an owl and the whispers of the night breeze filled the void.

“Well?”

“The mistress will explain, sir. But Miss Draper suffered a trauma some years ago. That’s why she’s here at Blackborne.”

“I see.”

If Sophia married Lord Adair to save her sister, this trauma must have occurred while Finlay was in Belgium. He had returned home almost a year after Waterloo, which meant Sophia had been caring for the girl for seven years. Seven years was a long time to keep a secret.

“How long has Miss Draper lived at Blackborne?” Finlay asked, keen to prove his theory.

“How long? Five years, sir.”

Five years!

The discrepancy roused Finlay’s ire. If Blent spoke the truth, then Sophia came to her sister’s aid after marrying Lord Adair. Damn the woman. No doubt she had manufactured parts of the tale to plead to Lucius Daventry’s conscience.

Bitterness rose like bile to his throat. Hostility held him in its grasp as they approached the rear entrance of the late medieval house. Even the aromatic scents wafting from the herb garden failed to soothe him.

“This way, sir.” Blent gripped the iron handle and pushed open the arched oak door. He led Finlay into a narrow panelled passage, the half-burned candles in the sconces casting a modicum of light. “You’ll find the kitchen and Mrs Friswell’s room through there.” He motioned to the small door on the left. “Anne sleeps with Miss Draper.”

“And your mistress keeps one maid?”

Blent nodded.

“Do you have a room in the house?”

“No, sir. I stay in the old cottage near the kennels.”

Finlay might have asked more questions, but Blent led him through the great hall, a vast room with a stone fireplace, hanging tapestries and a minstrels’ gallery. They stopped outside the open door of a well-lit drawing room. Blent knocked and waited for his mistress to bid them entrance.

“Come!”

Finlay’s heart was in his throat