Page 38 of Honor Unbound

He squeezed her knee, then quickly withdrew his hand. “He was a good brother?”

“Yes. And a good man.” She brushed her thumb under her eye. “But that’s neitherhere nor there.” She emphasized that lasth. “And I think we’re at our next stop.”

He sighed heavily. There was more he wanted to say. More he wanted to know about Marie and more he wanted her to know about him. He had a visceral knowledge that their union would be a happy one, but he figured she would need a bit more convincing.

But she was looking at him expectantly and they had suspects to investigate, so he climbed from the hackney and helped her down behind him.

They looked up at the stucco townhouse that Mrs. Trent had disappeared inside two nights past. Mr. Gray’s home was on a quiet street, a neighborhood of comfortable men of business and perhaps a politician or two.

“Should we start with the neighbors?” he asked.

Marie nodded.

They’d learned that the direct approach seemed to work best. When asked why they were asking questions, they simply answered that they were assisting in the investigation of a murder.

They just didn’t say whom it was they were assisting.

People were eager to gossip, seeming to relish the idea that a man of their acquaintance might be involved in something unsavory. They were quick to tell of the biweekly visits of a mystery woman to Gray’s house. Unfortunately, no one could say whether Gray had left his house the night of the murder.

Gray’s own servants were much less forthcoming. At their first question, the door was shut in their face.

Brett blew out a breath. “Shall we try the local stables?”

“May as well.” Marie adjusted her bonnet, trying to shield more of her face from the sun.

Gray’s home didn’t come with its own carriage house. A common stables was a block and a half down the street, a large building that held several private carriages and their attendant horses.

They stepped inside the stables, the shade lowering the temperature a much-appreciated couple of degrees. Brett blinked as his eyes adjusted to the dim light. “Hallo?”

A shadow darted across the door they had just entered.

Brett started toward it when a voice called from behind him. “Yes? Can I help you?”

Brett turned. A man strode toward them, a farrier’s hammer dangling from one hand. “Do you work here?” Brett asked.

The man huffed. “Well, I’m shoeing a horse right now. Wouldn’t be doing that if I weren’t getting paid.”

Marie stepped forward and gave him a bright smile. That was another technique they’d discovered worked well, much to Brett’s chagrin. “We were wondering if Mr. Gray boards his horses here.”

“Yes, miss.” The stablemaster’s shoulders lowered an inch. “Has ever since he moved to this street, a couple years ago.”

“And do you know if Mr. Gray’s horse was in the stables last Saturday morning, early?” Marie flicked open her fan and gazed at him over the lace rim. “That would have been the twelfth.”

The man swallowed. “Well, his horse was here when I left at ten that evening and was here when I arrived at six the next morning. Whether it was here between those hours, I couldn’t tell you. The people who rent stalls here have a key.”

Brett shifted closer to Marie, grinding his back teeth. Perfect. Another alibi that could neither be contradicted nor confirmed. He hoped Ernest was having better luck speaking with the local hackney drivers.

“Have you noticed anything unusual about Mr. Gray lately?” Brett asked. “Any changes from his normal schedule? Has he seemed upset lately?”

“If you want to know my mental condition, you should ask me directly.”

Brett swung his head around. There, standing in the doorway, was Mr. Gray holding the reins to a large chestnut horse.

Marie sidled close to Brett. “We’ve been caught,” she whispered.

Gray narrowed his gaze on Marie. “I know you.”

“Miss Murphy.” She dropped a quick curtsy.