A Death, A Duke, And Miss Mifford - Claudia Stone Page 0,50

of people stood together, discussing amongst themselves what had happened. As Henry exited The King's Head, a familiar figure caught his eye.

Miss Mifford, dressed in the walking gown she had worn earlier, though looking slightly more dishevelled--as though she had just woken--stood amongst a small group of ladies.

Not caring a jot for propriety, Henry made a beeline for her, wishing to share what he had just discovered. It struck Henry, as he walked, that it was Miss Mifford's opinion which he valued above all others. It was her wise counsel which he wished to hear. Which was funny, for during the course of his lifetime, Henry had not talked with many women. Unless one counted his mother, which he did not.

"Miss Mifford," Henry called, as he approached.

Miss Mifford looked up at the sound of his voice and detached herself from her flock. Her flock, in turn, all turned their attention to Henry, and Henry realised that the group consisted of all the Mifford sisters. It was a little bit disconcerting to be watched by four women who all had the same shaped eyes, he thought, though he tried to not let his nervousness show.

"Canet has been murdered," Henry whispered to Miss Mifford, his hand reaching out to draw her slightly away from her sisters.

"Yes, I'd heard," Miss Mifford replied, her cheeks stained pink as she stole a glance down at Henry's hand, which was still clutching her arm.

Dash it, Henry thought, he had not even realised that he was still touching her. Though, as he drew his hand away, he could not help but mourn the loss of her warmth.

"We found money in Canet's room," Henry continued, hoping that the act of speaking would spare his own blushes, "Piles of money and a note which indicated that Canet was selling poached game in Stroud. I think whoever he was working with must have killed him--an argument over coin, perhaps."

Miss Mifford furrowed her brow in thought, as she digested what Henry had told her. She clicked her fingers as a thought struck her, and turned her eyes back to Henry.

"What if the person who killed Canet is the same person who killed Mr Parsims?" she questioned, excitedly, "We know that Mr Parsims was bribing people--what if he was bribing both Monsieur Canet and his accomplice at the same time? Perhaps Canet got cold feet when he realised the lengths his accomplice was willing to go to conceal their scheme, and out of fear that he would report him, this man murdered Canet?"

It made perfect sense, Henry thought, wishing that he could kiss Miss Mifford for her genius. As they had an audience, Henry refrained, and offered her a hearty clap on the shoulder instead.

"I think you're right," Henry agreed, "Who else was on that list? We had Canet, Wickling, Walker--"

"Fairweather!"

Henry blinked, as the name reignited a memory in his mind. Fairweather had been arguing with a farmer, the day that Henry had spoken to him about Mr Parsims' murder. What was it that the farmer had said?

"Don't think I don't know what you're up to at night."

Fairweather's poaching activities had obviously not gone unnoticed by the locals, though few would have felt inclined to report him. And Henry himself had noticed the man's discomfort when he had mentioned Canet. It all made such sense.

"Tell no one what we have discussed," Henry whispered to Miss Mifford.

"I'm afraid I shall be thoroughly interrogated by my sisters, but I won't," Miss Mifford replied, with an annoyed glance at the three young ladies who were openly ogling them.

"Will you--?" she began hesitantly, as Henry made to step away.

"Will you let me know the outcome, if you have time?" she continued, her eyes imploring Henry to say yes.

As her blue eyes held his, Henry felt that there was nothing he would not do for Miss Mifford, so he was thankful that her request was so simple. It was rather late in the evening to be setting off on a romantic quest to slay a dragon, or launch a thousand ships and burn the topless towers of Ilium in her name--but he would have, had she asked.

"I shall call at Primrose Cottage on my return," Henry vowed, taking her hand and squeezing it reassuringly--and not caring a fig that the act was witnessed by dozens.

Henry turned on his heel and set off across the square, ignoring the curious gazes of the villagers which followed him as he passed. He stopped briefly at The Ring, to retrieve Marrowbone