Page 58 of Honor Unbound

“Yes,” I bit out.

“Right then.” Sir Kelsey nodded, dismissing us. “Have a good day.”

I marched to the carriage. “I’m beginning to fear for our entire justice system if that is the caliber of man engaged to serve it.”

“He’s only trying to do his job,” Ryder said mildly. He handed me into the coach, then lifted Southey inside. “Are you returning home, or is there someone else you wish to accuse of murder?”

That didn’t deserve a response. I leaned forward and shut the door.

Ryder jumped out of the way.

I poked my head out the open window. “I am returning home. That man questioned us all right into my teatime.” I paused. I supposed I should invite Ryder to join in my repast. After all, his afternoon had been ruined, as well. “You’re welcome to join me.”

“Thank you for the invitation, but I have other plans.” He tapped the brim of his hat with his walking stick. “Lady Mary, it is always an adventure.”

I leaned back as Ernest aimed the carriage for home. My stomach twisted, and I didn’t think it was from hunger.

It wasn’t discovering a body, either, although that was always unpleasant. It wasn’t realizing that my main suspect in Trent’s murder had been murdered himself. I had wanted to be able to eliminate a suspect, but not in that manner. It was the fact that I might hold some responsibility for his death that made me queasy.

I should have laid out all my theories about the murders to Sir Kelsey. I’d let my pride override my decency. When I returned home, I would write up everything I’d discovered about the murders, the facts and the guesses, and send it to the magistrate. He could dismiss it. He could deride me to his fellow magistrates. But he would have the information. What he did with it would be on his head.

Southey hopped up on the bench seat next to me.

I dug my fingers into his fur. What were my theories now that Hicks was dead? I dismissed the idea that Hicks had killed Trent and another murderer had stabbed him. With the same tool used in both murders, I had to assume they were done by the same hand. There were plenty of files lying about the factory’s offices, so this murder could have been a spur of the moment killing instead of premeditated.

A chill worked down my spine. Someone was running about London who had no problem plunging a blade into those who angered him. Someone I most likely knew.

I let Southey lay half of his body on my lap. Jane wouldn’t be happy with the dog hair she would have to brush out of my gown, but his weight felt soothing. Too many unanswered questions swirled through my mind to be at ease.

And the silliest one of all resounded loudest.

What the devil were Mr. Ryder’s plans for the night in his new blue coat?

Chapter Twenty-Three

Brett

“We can’t abandonLady Mary now,” Marie whispered to him. “Not now that we’re in the thick of it. We can ask for another day off once the killer is found.”

“A day?”

Marie shushed him.

Brett pressed his lips flat. He wanted much more than a free day together. He’d become greedy for Marie’s time. Today had been nigh on perfect. Long walks together, a private luncheon just for two. He shoveled in another bite of chicken tarragon. He understood Marie’s loyalty to Lady Mary. He understood it; he just wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it today of all days.

Lady Mary stood with Jane near the sink in her kitchen. She chuckled at something her lady’s maid said before setting her cup down. She gave them an impatient look. “Can we leave now? Are your stomachs sated with your tea? I’m sure the carriage has been out front for nigh on ten minutes.” She tossed a scrap to Southey. “You stay here.”

Brett and Marie scrambled to their feet, plates in hands.

Cook took the dishes. “Try to be home for supper. I’ve cooked something special.” She winked at Brett.

“Supper might be late,” Lady Mary warned. She headed for the stairs. “Besides, I’m too angry to eat.”

She had eaten a full tea, Brett noted. After an afternoon wandering about Hyde Park, he and Marie’s repast had beenmore abbreviated. He had a feeling he would be missing that supper before the night was over. But as Lady Mary had discovered another body today, he could hardly complain.

He opened the front door as Lady Mary dug through the large urn next to the door for a walking stick. “Where are we headed?” he asked.

“To Mrs. Trent.” She finally decided on a pure white walking stick. “I speak with her about Mr. Hicks, and the next day he is dead. She was planning on moving back to her home, but that might not have happened yet. Let’s try her at her sister’s first.”