“Prohibit the taking of omens, and do away with superstitious doubts. Then, until death itself comes, no calamity need be feared.”
Sun Tzu, L’Art de la Guerre (The Art of War)
* * *
JULY 31, 1821
Twelve hours had passed, and Lily was back in the breakfast room. Alone.
Rain roared outside, the heavens still weeping as they had throughout the night.
It took a lot to depress her good spirits, but Lily had discovered that being ambushed with the two Johns, and not hearing from her husband since she had fallen asleep in his arms on their wedding night, along with the dreary weather, would do it. Sleep had been elusive, every rattling creak causing her eyes to fly open and her heart to jump despite knowing that second John stood guard nearby. His pacing only added to the ghostly atmosphere, his low footfalls occasionally startling her from a light doze when she managed to sleep at all. The sound of persistent rain had only added to the sense of isolation.
Their first evening together had been so perfect, a promise of all the good things to come.
Now her heart was aching. She enjoyed Brendan’s company, and she had enjoyed their nocturnal activities. Her hope was that it would lead to more time together, but now she could not shake the suspicion that Brendan might have left her alone to see his paramour.
Perhaps their night that she experienced as magical had been merely boring to him. Perhaps she did not measure up against the wiles of a sophisticated widow who was skilled in the bedroom.
Perhaps she was a ninny and being overly dramatic.
It has been a day and a half since I last saw my new husband. Perhaps I am permitted to be a tad melodramatic.
Lily groaned, leaning her head against her hand. It was pounding something fierce. That first John was there to witness her distress no longer signified. It was exhausting to have someone watching every movement.
Last night she had gone to her room, closing the door on second John and doing her best not to be loud in her room in case he could overhear what she was doing. By the time she had awoken this morning, she no longer cared. She could not maintain a perfect front with first John nearby.
Reaching over the table, she pulled a stack of news sheets over to peruse while she sipped on her tea. Wesley had presented the fresh stack when he had shown her into the breakfast room, and Lily suspected it was because he pitied her isolation of the day before. It had been a thoughtful gesture, which had made her feel … seen.
She skimmed the news, reading about goings-on about Town. There was still talk of the coronation and King George IV. Some political news was covered.
Moving the top sheet aside, she reached for another. This was more of a gossip rag that she rarely read. She started to put it aside when a line jumped out at her, almost causing her to drop her tea.
Shaking her head, Lily set the cup down on its saucer and pushed it away. Then she carefully reread the news sheet.
Just yesterday, Lord F. and Lady S. were seen conversing intimately on a public street. Has the notorious widow taken back up with him, despite his recent vows to Miss A.?
Her heart squeezed painfully. Lily released the page, dropping her head into her hands while tears welled despite her best efforts to hold them back. Brendan had assured her that their marriage would be a faithful one. What did ‘intimately’ mean? How was she to—
“Lily?”
She jumped in fright. Swallowing hard, she palmed her streaming eyes to wipe away the evidence of crying, and turned to find Brendan framed in the doorway. He appeared a little haggard, and she thought he might be wearing the same clothes as the day before because of the wrinkling of his cravat and coat. His hair and shoulders were damp, and his boots were a little worse for wear, with some mud splatter marring their polished surfaces.
“Brendan!”
“I must speak with you.” He entered and closed the door, shutting first John out in the hall before crossing the room to take a seat on the other end of the table. Noticing that there was a covered plate, he yanked off his gloves and pulled it closer with a look of relief. Soon he was devouring the plate of eggs and ham like a starving man while Lily waited impatiently for him to say something. Anything. The urge to slap the fork out of his hand and demand an explanation was a physical force she had to fight against.
“Where have you been?” The rain eased at that precise moment, making her demand particularly shrill in the sudden reduction of sound. But Lily welcomed the anger coursing through her veins. It was far better than the crushing defeat from moments earlier.
Brendan was sipping at tea, his plate emptied of its contents. “I was questioning the other barons who attended the coronation.”
Lily’s brows flew up. That was certainly not the answer she had expected. “What?”
“I was running down the lords who sat near my uncle to find out what they had to say.” Brendan yawned widely, throwing a hand over his mouth before shaking his head as if to rouse himself.
Silence descended while Brendan sipped on his tea.
“No lord received you in the early hours of the morning,” Lily finally responded.
“Correct. I journeyed to Chiswick to see Lord Simmons at his estate before he left for his country seat, but when we started back to London, we were caught in the rain. Within an hour, we were stuck in the mud. When we finally got unstuck, the horses were exhausted and there were no fresh ones to be found that late in the evening, so we slept in the carriage until dawn. Not that I slept much with Stephen near.” Stephen was one of the footmen who might have opened the door to the killer, or might have been the killer himself, so Brendan must have felt the need to keep an eye on him throughout the night. It was all so … threatening.
“Oh.”
Brendan reached out a hand to cover her own, his fingers cool against her skin. “My deepest apologies. I would have preferred to spend the night with you.”
Lily stared at his hand, not certain how to feel about all of it. When she looked up, she found Brendan smiling at her warmly, his brandy eyes molten with suggestion. “Oh!” Her anger dissipated to be replaced with shyness when she realized he was thinking about the last time they had been together.
He stroked his thumb over her knuckles, before reluctantly releasing her hand to lean back in his chair.
* * *
“Unfortunately, I do not think we will be sharing evenings for the foreseeable future.”
Lily straightened up with a stony expression. “What does that mean?”
“It means … I wish to spend time with you, but I have been thinking that perhaps you should stay with your parents for a little while.”
“What?” Lily sprang to her feet, bristling with outrage. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Brendan shook his head. “Certainly not! This is about protecting you. Until we find the baron’s killer, I do not believe Ridley House is safe. After all you have done, I cannot allow anything to happen to you.”
Lily threw up her hands. “I refuse to leave. I can take care of myself!”
Brendan stood. Walking around the table, he pulled her into a tight embrace, enjoying the feel of her soft body against his and burying his face in her hair to breathe in the scent of honey. She stood stiffly against him, but he continued the embrace, unwilling to release her when he had been yearning to see her all night. Leaning down, he whispered into her ear, “If anything happened to you, I would be devastated, Lily Ridley.”
She relaxed. After a moment, her arms stole around his waist and she embraced him in return. “Did something happen? I was … expecting to see you when I awoke, but then I could not find you anywhere and the Johns followed me about all day without explanation.”
Brendan raised his head in surprise. “You did not receive my note?”
Lily craned her neck to stare up at him, her large brown eyes narrowed with suspicion. “There was no note! I searched for you throughout the house and saw no note in any of the rooms.”
“I placed it on the pillow next to you. Perhaps it fell?”
Lily mewled in throaty exasperation. “I thought you had abandoned me! What did the note say?”
Brendan released her, stepping back to gesture at her vacated chair. Lily sat down, while Brendan returned to his where he picked up his tea and sipped. “I was asleep in your bed when I was awoken by a loud crash. Someone had been searching my room when they overturned the water jug in their haste. It confirmed that one of the servants must be involved. Keeping you safe from harm was my first thought, which was why I sent for the Johns, but after meeting with the runner, Halmesbury and Richard agreed I should try to find out more.”
“So you were trying to protect me? Not …” Lily glanced at the news sheets she had been reading when he had entered earlier.
Brendan cocked his head, a little confused by what she had been about to say. “Yes, of course. What did you think?”
Lily twisted her lips, shrugging slightly. “Nothing … I was not sure what to think.”
* * *
Lily did not agree to depart Ridley House, but she agreed to think about it and to allow the Johns to guard her. She could not argue that a woman of her petite size would be unable to fend off a panicked attack from the unknown servant who had searched his room. Considering a man had been killed, they could hardly ignore the possibility of such an event. The discussion had caused disquiet for Lily, who assured herself that her athletic, healthy husband would be capable of fighting off a hypothetical attack if it were aimed at him. At least, she hoped that was the case. He certainly was on edge enough to stay alert.
Despite her reservations about parting so early in their marriage, when her plan to turn this into a love match was her most pressing goal, Brendan had made a good point. If she stayed at her parents’ home while he sought a resolution to the investigation, she could move freely without the suspense of two Johns dogging her every step.
Leaving the breakfast room, with first John falling into step behind her, she noted the rain had stopped completely. The sudden silence in Ridley House was almost unearthly after the barrage of drumming rain.
Turning a corner, she encountered Michaels in the poorly lit hall, startling in surprise. Usually, one could hear the butler coming because he had a pronounced step that thudded on the wooden floors. She had not heard him approaching. Had he been hovering in the shadows?
Lily realized she was on edge, mistrustful of the servant after the news Brendan had imparted. Blazes! Perhaps she should go home so she would not jump like a scared little ninny every time she encountered one of the servants in her own home.
“Is the carriage ready?”
Michaels pursed his lips, appearing mildly offended by the question. “Of course, milady. You requested it for ten o’clock so—”
In the entry hall, the casement clock began to toll the hour, cutting off the rest of his declaration, and Michaels arched an eyebrow as if to accentuate the chimes.
“May I have my pelisse and bonnet?”
Michaels gave a curt bow and disappeared down the murky hall to collect her things, leaving Lily to mull over her conversation with Brendan. Discovering that her husband had been running about Town in the interests of protecting her had taken the wind out of her sails. It was rather sweet that he cared so much. She had wanted to ask him about what she had read about him and Lady Slight, but it had not seemed like the right moment to broach the subject.
Or you are afraid of the answer.
She would address the matter when she saw him at dinner, she resolved. Visiting Sophia at her home would be a welcome respite. She had clarified with Brendan, and he had advised that first John must accompany her because the footman and coachman might pose a risk, but roaming Sophia’s home without John shadowing her footsteps was not a risk. They concurred John could stay with the servants in the mews behind the Saunton townhouse until she was ready to return.
Brendan was to spend his day seeking more lords who might have conversed with the late baron, and Lily had made arrangements with Sophia, so it was with some relief that she left Ridley House to visit her cousin.
When she arrived at Balfour Terrace, the earl’s London townhouse, Lily was overjoyed to find Miles in the drawing room with his mother. She barely stopped to greet Sophia, quickly scooping up her baby cousin from his mother’s arms to coo into his cherubic little face. Miles gurgled, smiling widely as he raised a tiny hand to grab hold of a lock of her hair.
“Oh, Sophia! I want a little angel of my own!”
Sophia laughed. “Give it a moment. Perhaps let the menfolk solve this murder before introducing a child.”
Lily sighed. Sitting down, she settled Miles on her knees to face her. Pulling faces, she was delighted as her little cousin’s eyes sparkled and he chuckled out loud. “Brendan has informed me I am in danger.”
“I know. Richard informed me he had arranged for the Johns to stand guard. Where is … one of them?” Sophia finished awkwardly.
“He is in the mews. We agreed that I only need protection while I am around our own servants. We discussed pensioning off Michaels and letting the footmen go, but it seemed unfair to punish so many for the acts of only one. And there is no point pensioning Michaels off if we do not get rid of all of them, because we do not know which one is the danger.”
“So what happens now?”
“Brendan advised me to return home.” Lily’s shoulders sagged. “I wish to remain with him. Matters were progressing so nicely. I was certain we could fall in love, but now the focus has shifted to this. And I do not wish to contend with Mama. She will be a nuisance if she learns I am in danger. I will never hear the end of it!”
Sophia pulled a face in sympathy. “We are leaving for Saunton Park in a few days. If matters are not resolved by then, you could come with us. Perhaps come stay at Balfour Terrace until we leave.”
Lily tickled little Miles, who squirmed in her lap, wiggling with glee. “It is not ideal, but perhaps I will do that. I would prefer spending the summer with you and Richard than having Mama criticizing my marriage.”
“I think you are fortunate to have a mother, especially one like Aunty who cares so much, but I understand the need to lead your own life now that you are wed. The invitation remains open.”
Lily spent the day with Sophia and Miles, happy to have a respite from her problems at Ridley House. It was only after she left much later that evening that she remembered she had not spoken with her cousin about the on-dit in the news sheets. However, what could Sophia recommend other than to ask her husband about it?
Lily’s stomach tightened as she tried to plan how to broach the matter with Brendan. She supposed it might be because she did not want to hear an answer that would end her hopes for the future.
* * *
Briggs shook his head. “I can find no other suspects amongst the servants. Michaels is the only one who has any reason to harbor resentments toward your family.”
Brendan cleared his throat. “However, it cannot be discounted that one of the servants has been paid by the killer to remain silent.”
“Agreed. Given that we know that the study and your room have been searched, there are issues with believing that Michaels killed the baron out of some long-ago quest for revenge for what happened to his father. The accidental death of a gamekeeper more than thirty years ago would not explain why he would search your home.”
“So, to sum it up, we know nothing of any use. The barons I visited could only tell me they shared some banal discourse before the ceremony began and once it was completed. The late baron did not attend any of the gatherings that came after, and Michaels states he returned home in time for dinner. He gave his valet the night off to visit family here in London, then ate his evening meal in the formal dining room. After dinner, he closed himself in the study and instructed the servants not to disturb him because he had correspondence to write. Sometime between ten o’clock and dawn he was bludgeoned over the head with a weapon of convenience—a sculpture that they took from the mantelpiece.”
“He was killed much earlier than dawn, according to the coroner. By the time we arrived, he had been dead for several hours.”
Brendan nodded. “We will assume, then, that he was killed sometime between ten o’clock and approximately midnight. Most of the male servants would have been in the servants’ hall by midnight.”
Briggs nodded. “Which means one of the servants could be lying about their whereabouts, and they had the opportunity to murder him …”
“Or Michaels, or one of the footmen, answered the door to let the killer in, who then paid or threatened them into silence …”
“And is searching for something in the house that perhaps connects the killer to the baron …”
“Or is searching for something entirely different,” Brendan finished. “In other words, we do know nothing.”
Briggs rubbed his neck, clearly embarrassed. “The problem lies in the fact that the baron has been at his country seat for two decades. There are no connections in London that I have been able to find. No acquaintances to look into. I questioned his solicitors, but they had nothing to reveal. The baron lived his entire life in Filminster. Perhaps the answer lies there.”
“The baron hated to travel. Enough to shirk his duties at Westminster since inheriting the title so he could remain at home. Perhaps I should leave for Baydon Hall to find anything that might throw light on this? I could remove Lady Filminster from danger if I travel without any of the servants from this household.”
Briggs stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “There might be merit to it. I could continue the investigation here, but I can recommend a runner that you might take with you to assist.”
Brendan stood up, pacing the library as he deliberated this course of action. The truth was, he did not want Lily to leave his side. He enjoyed her company and their night together …
I would not complain about sharing more nights like that with my wife.
Lily was a revelation. She lifted his spirits with her exuberance, and had saved him from a chaotic and prolonged trial with her earnest sense of justice, and she brought all that energy to the bedroom. He was still marveling two days later about their night of shared passion. It had been disappointing to not make it home the night before.
“I will do it. Lady Filminster and I will leave for Baydon Hall as soon as I can make arrangements for transportation. Perhaps the duke can lend me a carriage and servants.”
“Then I will contact the runner I have in mind and request his assistance in Filminster. I will bring him by in the morning.”
After the runner left, Brendan checked the time, realizing the day was mostly over, despite the summer light shining through the aged windows of the library, and it was nearly dinnertime. Most of the arrangements would have to wait until morning, as Briggs had suggested.
Brendan was satisfied with the plan they had discussed. He could keep Lily safe by taking her to Filminster, and Briggs would sort out the muddle with the servants in his absence. He would need to decide what he should take with him, so he sat down to make a list of tasks to prepare to depart with Lily the next day.
A knock on the library door interrupted his thoughts while he was straightening his papers on the table.
Michaels opened the door, making his announcement to the room in general with an air of boredom. “Lady Slight to see you, milord.”
Brendan sprang up, horrified to see Harriet entering and astounded that Michaels had granted her entry without his authority. “What are you doing here?”