Page 37 of Honor Unbound

Marie rose and placed her cup in the sink. “And that leaves Mr. Platt. Timothy at The Cagey Vixen says Trent’s brother-in-law was short on funds.”

“Timothy?” Burton pressed his lips flat. “Who’s Timothy?”

“A card dealer at the hell we went to.”

Burton didn’t stand but he seemed to grow taller all the same. “You went to a gaming hell this afternoon?”

Marie grinned. “And I won ten quid.”

I drummed my fingers. “I told you we were going to see an acquaintance. Mr. Cooke also mentioned Platt. Said he used to come to his clubs with that friend of his, Randall, until Cooke banned him. Apparently he was a bad influence.” Randall might have annoyed Cooke, but I was impressed. A bad influence at a gaming hell. That wasn’t easy to accomplish.

Burton looked like he wanted to say more about our afternoon excursion but luckily he was smart enough to let the matter drop. “I thought we were looking at Platt for avenging his family’s honor. What does he have to gain financially from his brother-in-law’s death?”

“We don’t know yet.” That would depend upon his sister.

“If theft was the motive, the killer didn’t do a good job of it,” Burton said. “Some petty cash might have been missing from Trent’s study, but there was a gold ink well sitting on the desk that must be worth a pretty pence.”

“I was thinking a financial motive would be something on a grander scale,” I said dryly. “Did you learn anything at the courts of chancery?”

“That I would never want to be a clerk or attorney.” Burton grimaced. “Did you know they have records going back four hundred years?”

My body temperature rose. “Yes, but did they have records of Trent’s suit against Gray?”

“The file was thin,” Burton said. “Only a one-page filing initiating the suit. It mentioned nothing but the cause of action. No details.”

Southey started hacking in the corner. I kept my eye on him to make sure he wasn’t choking. “Had it been assigned to a judge?”

“Not yet. Apparently the courts are severely overcrowded and it can take a year or two before cases are heard.” Burton filled a bowl with water and brought it to the dog. “But Trent truly was asking for fifty thousand pounds in damages. That amount would have to have ruined Gray. Now his company is safe, and his path to Mrs. Trent is open. He has the strongest motive in my eyes.”

I tried another spoonful of the tinned food. It wasn’t as horrendous as the first bite. It would likely improve if the stew were heated. Tinned food was a new invention. Perhaps in thirty years everyone would be eating their meals this way.

My stomach turned. I shoved the tin away. And perhaps not. “We have a lot of people we need to speak with. And still no one has mentioned why Trent may have wanted to contact me.” I smacked my palm on the table.

Southey abandoned what was left of his bone and trotted over to me. The dog truly was perceptive of people’s emotions. If only he could talk. Perhaps he could tell me who’d killed Mr. Trent.

I plucked up the can and placed it before the animal. He eagerly tore into it, using his long tongue to dig out the stew. “I suggest we all get some sleep. We have a lot of work yet to do.”

Marie stretched, her back arching, Burton’s eyes tracking the movement. “Well, even without her husband to run the canning operation, I think Mrs. Trent will be fine.” She pointed to Southey shoving the now empty can across the floor. “If all else fails, she can turn the business into a dog food factory.”

Chapter Fifteen

Brett

“Well, that wasunproductive.” Marie slumped back in the carriage seat. They’d hired a hackney for the day to try to obtain answers to the questions raised the night before.

Brett spun the rim of his hat around his finger. “We learned that Mr. and Mrs. Hicks sleep in separate bedrooms. She can’t give him an alibi for the night of the murder.”

“And neither can any of his servants. They didn’t hear him leave the house, but they can’t be sure he didn’t.” Marie pulled a fan from her reticule and snapped it open. She began fanning her face. “That’s the problem with a four in the morning murder. There’s no one awake to see a murderer come and go.”

Brett had to agree. He didn’t know if they would be able to rule anyone out based on lack of opportunity. He tugged at the knot of his neckcloth. “At least Lady Mary rented us this carriage. I would hate to be walking up and down the streets in this heat,” he muttered.

“I would think a former soldier would be made of sterner stuff than to complain about an unseasonably warm day.” She was looking out the window. Twin red curls framed her face, swaying with the motion of the coach. She swallowed. “You shouldn’t complain. You’re alive to feel the heat.”

Brett’s chest went tight. His hand itched to pull her close, rub her knee, offer her some small gesture of comfort. “I was fortunate. I am. But it isn’t my fault that I came back and yourbrother didn’t,” he said gently. “The one had nothing to do with the other.”

He didn’t think about that battle much anymore. Dwelling on the acrid scent of gunpowder, the stench of blood, served no purpose. But he wondered now where her brother had been. Had he fought on the same plain as Brett? Had Brett ever nodded to him in passing?

Her fan paused. She hung her head. “I apologize. Perhaps I ’ave been a little resentful. Only, we never really recovered. My parents were never the same since we learned of ’is death.”