A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,110

into the room. He moved around the long table as beckoned, greeting his mother, grandmother, and sister with a kiss on their cheeks, and shaking hands with those brothers he passed, while the footmen swiftly set a place for him. He seemed to be a generally stoic man, and while pleased by his family’s reception, from the color riding high on his cheeks, he also appeared slightly embarrassed by it. His dark hair was just beginning to show gray at the temples, much like his older brother, but where Lord Traquair’s was thinning, Lord Richard’s was thick and almost unruly.

Questions were asked regarding the health of his wife and children, who I came to understand resided at one of the duke’s smaller estates in the north that he’d given over to Lord Richard to manage. I gathered his wife had delivered a new child a few months prior, and so had elected not to journey to Sunlaws for the winter holidays. Lord Richard was on his way back to them after completing his business on the continent.

The duchess introduced him to me, Gage, and Trevor, as he was already acquainted with the others at the table. As the commotion caused by his arrival began to settle, he expressed his surprise as he spread his serviette in his lap. “I must say, I expected the castle to still be packed to the rafters with your Twelfth Night guests.”

“Yes, well, there was a development,” the duchess demurred.

“What sort of development?”

“A dead body in the abbey crypt,” Lord Edward drawled.

A vee formed between Lord Richard’s eyes as he turned to glare into his younger brother’s amused expression. “There have always been dead bodies in the crypt.”

“Yes, but this one was recent. Only three or four weeks expired,” he declared with relish. “And murdered, too.”

At this comment, Lord Richard abandoned his efforts to eat the salmon set before him. “You’re jesting?”

“I’m afraid he’s not,” Lord Traquair replied in a pained voice.

Lord Richard glanced at his mother, who nodded. Then his gaze swiveled toward me and Gage. “I suppose that explains your continued presence here.” It was stated with resignation rather than disapproval, but I still got the impression he was not pleased. Though I suppose I couldn’t fault him for that. Who wants to return home to discover someone has been murdered?

“Ned decided it was a brilliant idea to lead a ghost tour down into the doom,” Lord John stated derisively, his face tight with suppressed ire.

Lord Edward frowned. “I was simply doing my duty as Lord of Misrule.”

“A duty that didn’t need to be performed.”

Ignoring his brothers’ squabbling, Lord Richard picked up his fork. “Who’s the victim?”

“Too damaged to know for sure,” Lord Edward replied, causing his brother to lower his utensil yet again. “But what evidence there is points to lucky Helmswick.”

Lord Richard’s glower turned to shock. “But that can’t be. I saw Helmswick alive in Paris, not a week past.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

I sat forward in surprise.

“You’re certain?” Gage demanded.

He nodded. “Yes.”

“You saw him, but didn’t speak to him?”

“No, but I’m certain it was him. He was exiting a theater with some do—” He broke off with a swift glance at his sister.

Her expression tightened. “You can say it. It’s not as if it’s any surprise. He had some doxy on his arm.” Her voice lowered to a mumble as she moved her peas about her plate. “He always does.”

A charged silence settled over the table, an acknowledgment of the fact that the duke and his current mistress were seated there, not to mention the duchess’s lover as well as Lady Helmswick’s.

Lord Richard cleared his throat and addressed Gage. “Helmswick’s and my eyes even met. Not that he cared that I’d seen him.”

Gage turned to me, but I didn’t know what to say. If Lord Richard was speaking the truth, if he hadn’t been convinced by his family to lie, then whose body was lying in the wine cellar?

“What does this mean?” Lady Traquair gasped in confusion.

“It means that Mr. and Mrs. Gage have bungled the matter,” her husband accused angrily.

Gage’s brow lowered in answering fury. “No, it means someone deliberately muddled the matter, placing Helmswick’s boots on the corpse and removing or destroying all other identifying markers and features.”

“But why would someone wish to make us believe it was Helmswick?” Lord Henry asked.

“I don’t know,” Gage snapped, and then modulated his voice. “All of the evidence will have to be reexamined. As well as the lists and ledgers of visiting gentlemen from