one was likely to ask her for her opinion she could not give it. She was a bystander in all this and must make herself as unobtrusive as possible. Only when she was alone with Lucy and able to offer comfort might she speak her mind—should her friend wish to discuss the identity of the rogue who had killed the man she loved.
* * *
‘Why do you suspect Paul?’ Hallam demanded as the two men met on the way to the stables. ‘I know he had a gun—but he is devoted to Mark. You know it as well as I that he would have done anything for him...’
‘It was something Mark said as he fell into my arms—a warning that may be taken two ways.’ Hallam frowned as Adam repeated Mark’s cryptic words. ‘He may have meant that his father should protect Paul—or something else.’
‘Yes, I see. Now I understand why you have doubts, but I feel that Mark meant to warn you that his brother’s life could also be in danger.’
‘I shall interpret it that way for the moment, but I must keep an open mind. I care for them both and this is more painful than I can express.’
‘As much for Paul as for us,’ Hallam said. ‘To be suspected of harming his brother is terrible, especially as he is torn apart by his grief.’
‘Yes, I know. I could see it in his face, therefore I must accept that the warning was in order to protect Paul from this enemy—but who is the rogue and why would he wish Mark dead?’
‘If we knew that we might have some hope of discovering his identity. One of the grooms recalls seeing a man run past the stables and disappear into the orchard, where he must have left his horse. His impression was that the man was in his thirties, dark-haired and a gentleman by his clothes—and that is all he can recall. He was grooming one of the mares and did not bother to look more closely.’
‘That description might fit anyone,’ Adam said and ran his frustrated fingers through his hair. ‘What do we do next, Hal?’
‘I imagine we must make a search of Mark’s rooms. If there is a clue, it may tell us something.’
‘Then we must wait until after the funeral,’ Adam said. ‘We cannot search his rooms while he lies there—or until he has been interred in the family crypt.’
‘I see no help for it but to wait. I know you are impatient to begin your search, as I am—but it cannot be. We could make enquiries in the village as to whether a stranger has been seen. Someone may know more of this man Paul’s groom saw.’
‘It was Paul’s groom that saw the stranger running away?’
‘Yes, why?’ Hallam frowned. ‘No, no, that is too much, Adam. The man is as honest as the day and I would swear he had no thought of lying to protect Paul. You do him and Paul a disservice.’
‘Yes, I am not being fair,’ Adam admitted. ‘I shall accept that the murderer was a gentleman of sorts and that he came here to murder Mark—what we need to discover is why.’
‘I shall ride to the village to discover what I can.’
‘I think I should escort Lucy and Jenny to Dawlish Hall. I should not care for them to go alone with a murderer on the loose for we do not know if my cousin was killed because of his coming nuptials.’
‘By someone who wants Lucy for himself?’ Hallam nodded. ‘There are several men who might covet her for her beauty and her fortune. I believe her maternal grandfather left her more than twenty thousand pounds in trust, which may be broken on her marriage.’
‘I suppose that would be as good a motive as any for some men,’ Adam said and frowned. ‘Yet I have a suspicion that the mystery may go much deeper.’
‘Whatever, it will not do to have the ladies return to Dawlish alone. You must certainly escort them.’
* * *
‘Lucy does not wish to leave this evening. I shall sit with her and together we shall keep a vigil,’ Lord Ravenscar told Adam later that evening. ‘I have instructed Mrs Mountfitchet to provide rooms for the young ladies so that Lucy may retire when she feels able. The ladies wish to be together and it is the least we can do. I have sent word to Lady Dawlish. I asked Miss Hastings if she would wish for an escort to the Dawlish house, for it must be awkward for her here, but she says she shall not desert Lucy.’
‘I would not expect her to say anything else,’ Adam said. ‘You need not worry for her too much, sir. I shall take it upon myself to keep the young lady company. When the funeral is over I shall search his rooms for evidence—there may be something in his papers that will help us discover the truth of this terrible business.’
‘Yes, well, I shall leave it all to you and Hallam,’ Lord Ravenscar said. ‘Paul is in dark despair at the moment, but I think he will wish to help as soon as he is able.’
‘Yes, of course. We shall all do our utmost to bring this evil monster to justice, Uncle. I give you my word that if it is possible he will hang for his crimes.’
‘I know I can rely on you all. Now, if you will excuse me, I think I shall sit with Mark again for a while. Lucy ought to rest, but she cannot be brought to leave his side. Perhaps it is the best way for her to grieve, poor lass, but I shall persuade her to her bed as soon as I can.’
‘In the circumstances it is hardly to be expected that she would not be deeply affected. She would have been his wife next month.’
Lord Ravenscar passed a shaking hand over his brow and went away. Adam turned towards the parlour where he knew Miss Hastings to be sitting. Although it had been a warm day the evening had turned chilly and a fire had been lit in the parlour. Pausing on the threshold, Adam was struck by the quiet beauty of the young woman’s face as she sat staring into the flames. A glass of wine and a plate of almond comfits had been placed on a small wine table beside her and she had a book in her hand, but it was clear she had been unable to concentrate. She looked up as he entered the room, inquiry in her steady grey eyes.
‘Mr Miller—is there any news?’
‘I fear not and it may be some time before we can track him down, but I promised my cousin I would do it and I shall,’ he told her. He went forwards to warm himself by the fire as she sat down again. ‘You find us at a very sad time for all concerned, Miss Hastings.’
‘Do please call me Jenny,’ she said. ‘We have gone beyond formality, I think. I feel a part of this family for I grieve sincerely for your loss.’
‘How kind of you.’ Adam inclined his head. ‘How could it be different for at such times we are drawn together in grief. It is all the worse because we had such hopes for the future.’
‘Lucy is distraught,’ Jenny said. ‘I do not know how she can bear it, to be so close to happiness and have it snatched away so cruelly. I am determined to be here when she needs me. I know her mother is close at hand and I dare say she may come—but sometimes it is easier to talk to one’s friends, do you not think so?’
‘Yes, I agree entirely. This terrible tragedy will not change your plans?’
‘Oh, no. I shall stay for Lucy’s sake—and in truth for my own. I should not wish to return to my uncle’s house.’
‘Was he unkind to you?’
‘Not exactly—but he did not treat me just as he ought and I prefer to live at Dawlish for the moment. The family will be in mourning and perhaps there are ways in which I can help.’
‘Lucy will need a companion she can talk to. I dare say she may weep on your shoulder a deal of times.’
‘Then we shall weep together for I find this very sad.’
‘Indeed. I think my grief may ease a little in pursuit of my cousin’s killer. I can do nothing for the moment, but I intend to search him out—whoever he may be.’
‘Do you have a clue?’
‘One of the grooms