A Stroke of Malice (Lady Darby Mystery #8) - Anna Lee Huber Page 0,111

December. Someone must be missing.”

“I still think it could be one of those tramps or walkers,” the duchess asserted, though no one truly paid her any heed.

“It couldn’t be a villager or a member of the staff?” Lord Richard posited, unaware of earlier developments.

“Not unless he was dressed in clothes so fine they could belong to an earl,” Gage replied.

He nodded in understanding.

“What if they were the earl’s clothing?” I said as a notion formed in my mind.

The others looked to me to explain.

“What if they were his castoffs?” My gaze met Gage’s. “Don’t most valets wear some handed-down clothing from their employers, the same as lady’s maids?” After all, they weren’t called a gentleman’s gentleman for nothing, and they certainly dressed the part.

Gage turned to Lord Richard, but the duke’s son shook his head.

“I only saw Lord Helmswick, not his valet.”

And we hadn’t asked specifically whether the staff had seen the earl’s valet leaving the castle on the morning of December seventh. We’d been focused on the earl, assuming if he and his luggage had departed, then his valet must have as well.

Gage’s gaze then swung toward Lady Helmswick. “My lady, surely you’re acquainted with Mr. Warren.”

She seemed to shake herself out of some sort of brown study, and who could blame her, as she’d just discovered her odious husband was probably still alive. “Of course.”

“Can you describe him for us? What does he look like?”

“Well, he’s of about average height, I should say. Rather unassuming looking really. He could fade into the woodwork if not . . .” She broke off, her lips tightening into a remorseful line. “If not for his copper hair.”

I exhaled the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Then the body couldn’t be his, for the corpse’s hair had most definitely been a shade of sandy brown.

“Well, if not this Mr. Warren, maybe it was another of Helmswick’s servants,” the duke suggested. Though what other servant would be dressed as a gentleman and accompany him to his father-in-law’s home?

I swept my gaze down the length of the table, curious whether any of the others’ thoughts would show on their faces, only to be startled when Marsdale’s regard met mine. I expected to see irritation or smug scorn or even challenge stamped there, but all I could sense was resignation and a slight shade of uncertainty. Perhaps now he would be willing to speak with me, to share what he knew.

My gaze shifted toward Lord John, who picked listlessly at the food on his plate. But for now, we still had some questions for the duchess’s third son.

Sometime later, I slipped from the drawing room, where the ladies had withdrawn after dinner while the men lingered over port, and hearing Gage’s voice further down the corridor, went to join him. He had pulled Lord John aside into the antechamber joining the eastern and southern blocks of the castle on this level.

“Don’t pretend not to understand,” Gage was telling him in a hard voice. His gaze lifted to meet mine as I slipped through the doorway before fastening on Lord John again. “We know Renton didn’t come here simply to demand Helmswick repay a debt of honor. So why was he really here?”

Lord John leaned his head back against the wall behind him to look at the ceiling, almost as if he was imploring God. “I don’t know why I bothered to lie. It’s not as if she doesn’t already know what a scoundrel he is.” He sighed wearily. “Renton intended to blackmail Helmswick.”

“About?”

His head bowed. “He claimed his sister was Helmswick’s mistress. That she’d lived in a cottage at the edge of his Haddington estate. But when he got her with child, he refused to support her and the baby as well. That he sent someone to her to . . .” he shifted his feet “. . . to take care of the matter. Except his sister apparently wasn’t in good health to begin with, and whatever was done merely precipitated her death.”

I placed an arm protectively around my abdomen, feeling an acute stab of pity for the woman, even if she was the earl’s mistress. Unlike some, I recognized that women far too often found themselves in such a position through little choice of their own. And regardless of her status, to then be bullied into ridding herself of her child was horrid. If all this was true, if Helmswick had truly done such a thing to this Miss Renton, then he