wife, grabbed some clothes as she struggled to find hers, and was now striding down the hall, which was rapidly filling with other guests, most of whom wore dressing gowns and frightened expressions.
“Pardon.” He slipped through the crowd. Oddly, people stepped aside as they always had, never once questioning his right to take charge. Christ, what was he to do without the CID?
The commotion stemmed from a guest room at the end of the hall. Win’s blood chilled when he caught a familiar scent in the air. Death. It was going to be bad.
A gaggle of lords clogged the doorway, but they too parted ranks as he edged closer. He caught the eye of Osmond, who stood guard next to the door. Bloody perfect. “Your Grace, what has happened?”
His brother nodded grimly. “Chambermaid found the body. Looks like strangulation. I’ve called for the local magistrate. However, the butler tells me the man is away on holiday.”
Yes, and where was the lovely Amy Noble, now that her house had fallen into disorder and a guest murdered? One thing at a time.
Win eyed the door again. He itched to get inside. “As my wife said last night, I am an inspector. Let me have a look.”
Oz frowned. He obviously did not like superseding his ducal authority to a mere tradesman, inspector or not. It was all Win could do not to say, get your knickers out of a twist, Oz, and shove off. It might have worked when they were twelve and fourteen, and still brothers, but he rather thought it’d earn him a punch to the nose now.
“We need a guard for the door,” Winston added. Nothing mucked up a crime scene better than well-intentioned “helpers”, be they houseguests or the bobbies who often found the corpses in London. “Mrs. Noble’s guests ought not see this.” He tossed a worried look over his shoulder at the crowd. A look that invited camaraderie between conspirators. “I think they would be more inclined to listen to you, sir.”
Thankfully, Oz took Win’s bait. He straightened in a move that reminded Win of their father. “I will take care of them.”
Oz’s ensuing orders to go back to bed and the shuffle in the hall faded to the background as Win fully entered the room and took in the scene. A man lay in a slump on the floor by the foot of the bed. Colonel Alden. A bluish tinge colored his broad face, growing darker about the eyes and his mouth, from which his tongue hung out blue and thick. His fine linen nightshirt had a rent along the collar and was ruched up about his waist as if he’d been kicking about in a struggle. Win glanced away from his pale, spindly legs and the flaccid fall of his penis. Damned undignified, death was.
He stepped around the drying puddle of urine and offal that had spread about the colonel. He was used to the stench of death, but suddenly that smell and the strange, almost sweet odor of a dying body hit him hard. His pulse raced, and a fine sheen of sweat broke out over his skin. Blackness dotted before his eyes. He saw not the room, but that alleyway, with that scent. The thing coming for him, and the sharp bite of pain on his face. He couldn’t breathe. Run. Run away. Shaking, he lifted an ice-cold hand to his brow. No, not now. Do not fall into it. He forced himself to stare at the body and drew in a lungful of the foul smell. He was here, in a manor house. Not there, in hell.
“Was he strangled?”
Win jumped at the sound of Poppy’s voice. She stood just inside, no longer his panting, blushing temptress, but covered up by sensible brown worsted, respectable attire, unlike his dinner trousers and mismatched day shirt he’d snatched from the chair arm. Her gaze fell on the body with clinical detachment. How many bodies had she seen? He swallowed several times, trying to find his voice. He didn’t want her to see this, didn’t want her to see him like this. She drifted closer and, not really looking at him, handed over a thin flask. Win didn’t ask what was in it but took a deep drink. Fine, warm scotch smoothed down his throat.
“I don’t think I’ll ever become used to you Ellis sisters’ penchant for whisky.”
She waved an idle hand as she surveyed the room. “We’re half Scottish. I think there might be a