One More Kiss - By Mary Blayney Page 0,113

away from the center of the room, hat in hand, and waited.

Destry paced as he spoke, hands behind his back. “It’s my understanding that we need only wait for the coroner if we suspect foul play.” He stared at the floor a moment. “Do I?” he said very quietly to himself and then shook his head. “I’m too close,” he murmured again, seemingly to himself.

He looked up and spoke to all three of them. “I believe we should ask the Earl of Belmont to investigate the incident, and to decide whether there is a need to inform the coroner.” Destry looked up at Belmont. “My lord earl, are you willing to take this on?”

“Yes, my lord.” Belmont bowed formally.

With a nod and a gesture, Destry passed the investigation over to Belmont. The earl and the land agent spent a few minutes discussing arrangements for the preservation of Lord Crenshaw’s body.

“What difference does it make?” Jess whispered to Destry, feeling as curious as Beatrice.

“If murder is suspected, the body cannot be buried until the coroner sees it.”

“How do you know all this?”

“Part of the training to be a duke,” Destry responded with a wry smile. “Never knew I would actually use this bit.”

They stood silent while the others talked, until Des spoke for Jess’s ears alone. “I told Cecilia that I love her.”

Yes, he was used to Destry’s inclination to change the subject without preamble, but this declaration gave him a moment’s pause.

“What did you say?” Jess held up his hand. “I heard you. I heard you. Des, that’s tantamount to a proposal. What were you thinking?”

“I was looking at Crenshaw and thinking how death can come knocking any minute and that there’s no time to waste. It was not impulse. I do love her and I would be delighted if she considered that a proposal.”

“You’re right about how life can change. When we came here we both wanted nothing more than a few weeks of gaming, fishing, and flirting. Now you are ready for marriage and I am the prime suspect in a death.” That, if anything, would drive Beatrice away. What had she been doing walking up to him like that? Her curiosity must be driving her near mad.

“No one has said that, Jess.”

“Belmont will. Crenshaw and I have had two confrontations since the house party started, and last night I said I should have killed him. And I said it in front of witnesses.”

“But you didn’t kill him,” Destry said with conviction, then compromised that by asking, “Where were you anyway?”

This was the moment when he had to make a choice. If he told the truth, Beatrice’s reputation would be in tatters. Hell, it could be so ruined that a London Season among the ton would be impossible.

For Beatrice, then, he decided.

“I was walking down by the river. I told you that.”

“That makes no sense, Jess. You never go for walks and we were in the middle of one of the better gaming opportunities of these few weeks.”

“I know it’s odd but that is where I was.”

“Where was Beatrice? She was missing, too.”

“Do you think she could push a man to his death?” Jess imbued the question with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

“No, of course not, but it is odd that the two of you were missing at the same time from an event that should have been of keen interest to you both.” Destry looked away, shook his head, and then added, “Unless you were more interested in each other.”

Before Jess could find the words to distract Destry from that truth, Belmont came to them. “If you two gentlemen would join the ladies, I will make a few other inquiries and come to you shortly.”

“What ‘other inquiries’ is he talking about?” Destry asked as they trooped down the passage to the salon where the ladies were gathered.

“I would guess he wants to talk to the servants. The footmen are everywhere. It was not only you and Beatrice who heard me wish Crenshaw dead the night of the ball. At least one footman was standing nearby.”

“Yes, the footmen. I don’t even notice them in the normal course of events.”

“Which, I do believe, makes them valuable sources of information.”

One of said footmen opened the door to the salon.

Destry paused and gave the servant his full attention. “How many footmen are employed here?”

“I think you would have to ask the majordomo, my lord.”

“Because you do not know or would rather not be talking to me?” Destry warned, but

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