Page 38 of A Lyon’s Lesson

Reynolds dropped Rick’s dirty linen into the basket and said carefully, “My informant realized he had said more than he should to me and tried to recant it. He was visibly afraid, my lord.”

Rick frowned, groping for the soap. “I’ll be interested to discover what our guests have to say on the topic tonight. Keep your eyes and ears peeled, Reynolds. Something is rotten in the state of Denmark.”

“I will, my lord. And I hope you will be careful also.”

“Me? Why,? Do you think I’m in danger?” he said jokingly, but Reynolds just gave him an enigmatic look, and Rick laughed. “Don’t be absurd. I’m a peer. Killing a peer is a hanging matter. No one would dare.”

“Agreed, my lord. But accidents,” he waved at the stakes, “can happen. Even to peers. Be careful.”

Rick sobered slightly and said, “I will.”

***

Cecey surveyed her dinner guests with satisfaction. For her first dinner party, things were going well. Mrs. Garrick’s menu was, as always, excellent. The wine was flowing freely along with the conversation.

It was the elder Miss Greathorne who raised the topic of Mr. Sparrow’s death. “So sad!” she said, with a shudder. “I heard a whisper that it wasn’t an accident. Have you heard anything like that, Lord Kenrick?”

Rick turned from his conversation with Littlejohn on his left and looked down the table at Miss Greathorne. “No, I haven’t. What have you heard, Miss Greathorne?”

“Well,” she said with a portentous smile, “my maid said the servants’ hall was agog with it until Mr. Severn—that’s our butler—told them all to stop gossiping. But what she said was that he must have run afoul of Mr. Baines for some reason. But of course, there is no proof, and Mr. Baines is the local magistrate, so he can hardly investigate himself, now, can he?”

“Thank you, Miss Greathorne. Most enlightening,” said Rick.

“Do you think there is any truth to it, my lord?” asked her sister.

“I don’t know, but it will certainly bear investigating.”

“No smoke without fire, eh?” said the captain jovially.

“Indeed,” said Rick.

Cecey shivered and was glad when the conversation took another turn.

Chapter 21

Later that night, Rick woke to the sound of an almighty thunderclap so loud it shook the house. Cecey woke with a yelp of fright, and he wrapped his arms around her and said, “It’s all right, it’s only—”

A second clap, accompanied by a blinding lightning strike, cut off his words.

The lightening faded, leaving blackness and a purple after impression behind the eyes.

“That was so close!” said Cecey, clinging to him and trembling. “Like it was directly overhead!”

Before Rick could reply, the heavens opened with a roar that made speech impossible. Rain teemed down, and hail, driven sideways by the howling wind, pelted the widows like gunfire. Rick leaned down to place his mouth near Cecey’s ear and said, “ A good thing we’re not out in this!”

She nodded, burrowing into his arms. The torrent continued for a good half an hour before slowing to just heavy rain, and Rick lay pondering the information about Baines discussed over dinner. Was there any truth to that? He’d had no evidence of it. Or had he? Reynolds had said people were afraid to speak of Sparrow’s death. Was it Baines they were afraid of, or something or someone else? And if so, who? Or what? He would ask Reynolds to probe some more. With this thought, he drifted off to sleep to wake to dim morning light and a soggy prospect. It was still raining.

The rain finally stopped after breakfast, and Rick said he would venture out to check the damage. “It’s likely to be considerable. Flooding aside, the wind and hail may have caused damage to roofs and outbuildings, fences and brought down trees.”

“I’ll come with you,” said Cecey firmly. “Just let me change into my habit.”

“The rain may start up again. Are you sure?”

“It’s my property, Rick. I want to see the damage as much as you do. Besides,” she waved to the window, “the clouds have cleared, and the sun is out. If everything weren’t so wet, it would be a perfect summer day!”

Forty-five minutes later, they set off across the home farm fields noting the damage to the crop. Rick’s knowledge of agriculture was sketchy at best, but even he could guess that the crop, which had been close to being ready for harvest, was likely ruined. The stalks were flattened and broken in places, and the ground was squelchy beneath the horses’ hooves, with visible pools of standing water.

The home farm cottages stood in a row on the western boundary of the fields, and Rick ran an eye over these as they traversed the row. A tree branch had come partly down in one yard, but a man and his lad were severing it from the trunk.