Who Wants to Marry a Duke - Sabrina Jeffries Page 0,61

in order to cause the accident that killed him.”

The constable frowned. “I don’t know nothing about that, Your Grace.”

Gwyn cleared her throat. “You understand, sir, that no one is accusing you. We are simply trying to get at the truth. After all, it wasn’t just our father who was killed. Two footmen died in the accident as well, and the coachman was gravely injured. It was quite a tragedy.”

“Exactly,” Thorn said hastily, grateful to have Gwyn there since she had a way of putting people at their ease. He wasn’t quite as good at that. “And you’re the only person who might be able to tell us anything. The estate manager who ran Rosethorn while Gwyn and I were abroad with our mother and stepfather died a few years ago, so we can’t ask him. But I thought you might have examined Father’s carriage after the accident. That you might remember how it looked.”

“Anything you can tell us would be appreciated,” Gwyn added, casting the man a kindly smile.

The constable drank some coffee, then set the cup down. “The carriage ended up as kindling on account of it being so mangled in the accident that it couldn’t be repaired. But the coachman’s perch was found a ways behind the carriage, and we did think at the time as perhaps it came off first, spooking the horses into bolting and causing the accident.”

A chill skittered down Thorn’s spine. “So the screws holding the perch on might have been loosened?” he asked. When Gwyn’s husband had determined a few months ago that someone had tried to damage Thorn’s own carriage, that was exactly how the person had done it.

“I suppose it’s possible. Whatever was done, the carriage rolled not too far down the road and broke open, crushing His Grace beneath it and dashing the footmen against a boulder.” He shook his head. “Forgive me, Duke, but I hope you’re wrong about the cause of it. Your father was a good man and an excellent landlord. His tenants loved him. I can’t think of nobody who’d have wished him dead.”

“Thank you for saying so, Constable,” Gwyn said. “Since neither of us were even born at the time of his death, we must rely on good people like you to tell us about him. Mother doesn’t like to talk about him. They were so very happy that his death nearly broke her heart, or so she has always said.”

Thorn held his tongue. Perhaps it was time he pressed Mother for the truth. After he pressed the constable, that is. “I do have one question regarding what happened that day. Someone who knew my parents said that Father was in a hurry to get to London, and that his urging the coachman to a reckless speed was why the accident happened. Do you know if that could have been the case?”

He felt Gwyn’s gaze on him. He might end up having to tell her what information Lady Norley had blackmailed him with, but perhaps that was just as well. As Shakespeare once wrote, “truth will out.” And he was tired of keeping his late father’s secrets.

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace,” the constable said, “but that don’t sound right. His Grace wasn’t the reckless sort of young man. And knowing he was to be a father very soon would have kept him from recklessness anyway.”

Thorn forced a smile. “I’m sure you’re right.” He toyed with the handle of his empty coffee cup. “One more question before you go. Why did my father head off to London that day? Mother said he had urgent business, but she didn’t seem to know what it was.” Or she hadn’t wanted to say, which was more likely. “And as you pointed out, he was expecting to be a father any day. So why rush off and leave our mother with only servants to attend her?”

The constable was already shaking his head. “He didn’t leave the duchess by herself. There was a house full of people—his family, her family, some of her friends who wanted to be here for the birth. . . . She wasn’t alone, in any case.”

Thorn and Gwyn exchanged glances. Their mother had never said anything about houseguests. Then again, she didn’t like to talk about that day at all.

“You don’t happen to know who exactly was here, do you?” Thorn asked.

“No, Duke, I don’t. I’m sorry.” He pushed his cup aside. “But as for why your father left, the gossip in town was he hurried