Chapter Nine #2
“She was stabbed through the heart with an antique dagger belonging to Lord Chadbon.” In some deep part of herself, she marveled at her own ruthlessness.
She had learned, it seemed, from much less lethal, much more trivial situations, that if people were off balance and surprised, the truth could spill out unbidden.
Carver was clearly knocked sideways. He clutched his hair in both hands this time, his gaze wide with horror.
“Dear God,” he whispered. “Can this get any worse?”
“Actually, yes. Where were you at half past ten on Tuesday evening?”
“In bed,” he said, staring at her. “Thinking over my plans for extending the stables. Elizabeth likes to ride—” He broke off with a groan. “God, my poor Dinah…”
“Indeed. When was the last time you saw her?”
“Tuesday morning. I called at the court with Mr. Gibb, Elizabeth’s father. Both he and my mother were eager for Lord and Lady Chadbon to attend the wedding, so we went to be sure they were free. I saw Dinah polishing the banister, but obviously we could not speak.”
“Obviously. Were you planning to continue the affair?”
He shook his head. “No, we had already agreed to end it the last time we’d met, a fortnight before. It still did my heart good to see her again, though I wish we had been able to speak…”
“Lord Chadbon received you in his study?”
“He did, yes. They were expecting guests and he was clearly in something of a hurry, so Mr. Gibb said his piece, Lord Chadbon graciously agreed to attend, and we departed.”
“Have you ever seen His Lordship’s collection of antique weapons?”
“Of course. It is not large, but he’s very proud of it.”
“Did you see the weapons that day?”
“I noticed they were there, but not particularly.”
“One of them is a Florentine dagger, its hilt of intricately wrought steel. It lay on the top of the bookcase, just below the swords hanging on the wall. Did you see it there? Can you see it now in your mind’s eye?”
He gazed into the distance beyond her head. Then his eyes came back into focus. “Actually, no, I can’t. I mean, I know the piece you mean, and I have definitely seen it there, but I don’t recall it from Tuesday.”
Kate’s heart beat a little faster. “Because it wasn’t there? Or because you weren’t paying attention?”
“I don’t know. Are you telling me that was the weapon that killed Dinah?”
“Yes.”
“God, this is horrific.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Can anyone vouch that you did not leave your house that night?”
“I don’t suppose so,” he said dully. “We all retire early and rise early… I suspect I must look guilty to you. And I am guilty of much, but I would never have hurt Dinah.”
She stared at him in disbelief. “You had already hurt her! What do you think would have happened to her, to the child, if she hadn’t died?”
“Yes, yes, but I told you, I would have helped her. I had no reason to kill her, for she would never have told anyone I was the father.” Even as he said the words, he saw the implication, for his eyes widened.
Kate had the urge to walk away from him very quickly. Instead, she stood still. “How do I know? Because she did tell someone. Someone who was helping her. But you didn’t know that either, did you?”
He exhaled in a rush, and she marched on, her neck prickling, her knees shaking slightly. She tried not to cringe when he caught up with her.
But there was no aggression about him. He merely walked beside her as if he didn’t know what else to do, his mind clearly elsewhere.
Until they stepped onto the drive that ran across the front of the house, and he groaned.
A closed carriage drawn by two horses had just lumbered up the hill and was approaching them at the trot.
“It’s Elizabeth,” Carver said. “And Mr. Gibb. I beg you, Lady Ambrose, say nothing—” He broke off as the carriage came to a halt beside them.
The window was pulled down by a bluff, round man with a balding head and spectacles. “Well, Kit!” he said with obvious affection. “You see, even the weather can’t keep my girl away!”
Carver made a visible effort to not grimace. “And I am very glad of it!” Interestingly, his smile looked genuine too. Either he was a natural actor, or he was genuinely fond of these people. As well as of Dinah.
If Kate could believe anything about him.
“Forgive me,” Carver added quickly. “My lady, allow me to present my betrothed, Miss Gibb, and her father, who is our nearest neighbor, Mr. Gibb of Tetley Hall. This is Lady Ambrose, a guest down at Chadbon Court. Her horse has turned lame.”
“Oh dear,” Miss Gibb said, looking Kate up and down. “I hope you were not thrown or hurt in any way?”
Even seated in a carriage, Carver’s betrothed was clearly a tall young woman, almost statuesque. She was not beautiful, precisely—her face was a hint too sharp and bony—but she did look to have character and intelligence.
“Oh no,” Kate said cheerfully. “I’m not hurt in the slightest. If I am covered in mud, it’s because I was foolish enough to ride in such conditions. The ground is much dryer up here.”
“I hope you weren’t flooded at the court,” Mr. Gibb said.
Interestingly, his accent was not quite that of a gentleman.
Taken with the Carvers’ need of his money, Kate suspected he was some kind of cit or mill owner who had made his fortune by hard work and bought a small country estate so that his sons and grandsons would be regarded as gentlemen.
Marrying his daughter to the next squire was an excellent step forward.