The Sinister Spinster (16 page)

Looking highly aggrieved, Alexi did as she ordered. "To protect a sister is not nonsense," he muttered. "And you would not be so tired if these English were not so thick in their heads. It is all the pudding they eat, yes? It makes them slow and stupid."

The return of Thomas and another of the footmen bearing fresh coffee and rolls prevented Elizabeth from responding. She waited until Alexi had been served his usual mountain of food before sending them away with a murmur of thanks.

"Now, little queen," Alexi began, before Elizabeth could speak, "enough of this dallying. You will tell me, then, why that dog was here. But I warn you," he added, pointing his fork at her, "if I learn he has made the bother, it will go very bad with him."

The confession she'd been about to make withered on Elizabeth's lips. "He wanted to apologize," she said, thinking it might make better sense to share her suspicions with the marquess first. He was much less volatile than Alexi, if no less dangerous.

"Oh," she added, as if in afterthought, "he also wanted to know if I'd seen Mr. Colburt. It seems he missed his riding appointment."

Alexi shrugged his shoulders and reached for another
roll. "Shake out the beds of the maids and the lady guests. He is bound to come tumbling out of one of them."

"Alexi!"

"What?" He glanced up indignantly. "Is truth, is it not? Colburt forever chases the ladies. I hear them laughing about it, when he is not there to hear. Or at least some of them laugh. Others make face. Like this." And he screwed up his face in a parody of feminine disgust.

Elizabeth enjoyed her first laugh in what seemed like days. She'd seen that very expression on the faces of several of the more discerning guests. "Well, wherever he may have spent the night, poor Mr. Carling seemed quite concerned," she said, and then paused as a sudden suspicion dawned.

"Alexi"—she fixed him with a stern look—"you didn't do anything to Mr. Colburt, did you?"

"Me?" Alexi was outraged, "What would I do to that one?"

"Any number of things," she retorted, her head reeling at the possibilities. "All of them unpleasant and certain to cause a scandal."

Another shrug. "What do I care for scandal?" he asked coolly, buttering his roll. "If I wanted to harm that pig I would do it, so"—he made a twisting gesture with the knife—"where everyone could see me. If you think he has come to harm, it is your
Breetanskee
lord you should be scolding, and not Alexi. He had Colburt by the throat the other evening and shook him like the rodent he is. But you do not lecture his lordship, I see. Only me do you treat so."

Elizabeth ignored the stab of guilt. "Lord Falconer has not appointed himself my brother," she informed Alexi coolly. "And speaking of his lordship, I want you to promise you'll stop insulting everyone in Russian and asking me to translate. He is already suspicious, and things are sticky enough as it is without your adding even more fuel to the fire."

He went on eating as if she hadn't spoken. "I will think
about it," he agreed in an off-handed manner that had her glaring.

"I mean it, Alexi," she scolded. "You take too many chances. Sooner or later you are going to be found out."

"And if I am? I am a prince; what can they do to me? Besides"—he sent her a wink—"it is the chance of discovery that makes the game worth the playing. But for your sake, I will do as you ask. I would not risk you for anything."

"Alexi—"

"Good morning, Miss Mattingale, your highness." Lord Falconer strode into the room, looking handsome and more remote than ever in his somber jacket of dovegray Superfine, his black hair brushed back from the sharp bones of his lean face.

"Ah, Falconer, you are welcome to join us," Alexi greeted him with a wide smile and a grand sweep of his hand. "Come, be seated, and tell us how you are this fine morning."

"I am well, sir," came the clipped reply as the marquess took his seat. "And you, Miss Mattingale?" he asked coolly, his deep voice edged with frost as he studied her.

"I am also well," she replied, wondering what was ailing him. She wanted to believe his coolness was nothing more than ill temper, but a glance at his face put paid to that faint hope.

His jaw was clenched so tight, she marveled it didn't shatter, and the firm, sensual mouth she'd taken to studying was set in lines as hard and grim as a statue's. But it was his eyes that betrayed him most, their brilliant golden color as sharp and deadly as the blade of a knife. His lordship was coldly furious about something, and her instincts warned her that that something had to do with her.

"You just missed our host's foolish son," Alexi said, seemingly oblivious to the tension stretching like a taut line between she and Adam. "He was here looking for his friend. Did you see him?"

"Carling? I passed him in the hall," Adam returned,
keeping the full weight of his unblinking stare trained on Elizabeth.

"Not Carling." Alexi gave a genial chuckle, helping himself to more eggs. "The other; Colburt. He is missing, it would seem."

That caught Adam's notice, and his gaze cut to Alexi. "Missing? What do you mean?"

"I mean he is not where he should be," Alexi replied, his brows gathering in a frown. "Elizabeth said Carling told her that his bed had not been slept in, and he was worried."

Adam was on his feet. "He has been missing all night?" he demanded, his anger giving way to the keen awareness Elizabeth had seen in him before.

"Perhaps, but not so long as that, I think," Alexi replied, setting down his knife and fork and scowling up at Adam. "The man is like a stag in rut where women are concerned. Doubtless he found some woman foolish enough to welcome his advances and—"

"Murder! Murder!"

The high, keening scream erupted in the hall behind them, followed by raised voices and the sound of running feet. Adam and Alexi reached the door first, but when Elizabeth would have followed them into the hall, she found her way blocked by Adam.

"Where do you think you are going?" he demanded, his expression fierce as he glared down at her.

"With you, of course!" she snapped, too overset by the wails and screams echoing through the halls to care about the niceties. A pair of footmen went tearing past the door, one of them carrying what looked to be a battle-ax from the Hall's armory. She tried slipping under Adam's arm, only to have him deftly countering the move. He scooped her up in his arms and presented her to Alexi.

"Guard her," he ordered, meeting Alexi's gaze over the top of her head. "For God's sake, whatever you do, don't leave her alone!" And with that he was gone, ignoring her furious cries to come back and face her like a man.

Adam followed the screams to the conservatory, where a considerable crowd was already gathering. Shoving his way past the other guests, he saw an obviously shaken Lord Derring kneeling over Charles Colburt. Although he'd not seen as much death as his friend, Lord St. Jerome, Adam had seen enough to know Charles wouldn't be making any further mischief in this life.

"Murdered," Derring said, raising stunned eyes to Adam. "A guest. Murdered in my home."

Adam knelt beside the earl, ignoring the shrieks and oaths behind him as he studied Charles's body. He was laying on his back, staring up at them with wide, unseeing eyes, his features frozen in a look of shock and mild outrage. The black, sticky pool of blood spreading out from beneath him made it plain that the cries of "Murder!" had not been without some foundation.

"Who discovered the body?" he asked, his gaze never leaving the pathetic figure sprawled on the floor. Death had been kinder to Colburt than perhaps he deserved, and instead of seeing a malicious, self-satisfied dandy intent only upon his own shallow pleasures, Adam saw only a young man who had died much too soon and much too hard.

"William," Derring replied, rubbing a hand over his face and looking as ancient as the hall itself. "He—he has been looking for Charles all morning."

"It would seem he found him," Adam replied, appalled he could make a joke at such a time. He also wished he had a better idea of what was to be done. It was a pity Creshton had already left for London. He could have done with the older man's cagey intellect. Then he remembered the agent the duke had brought with him, and glanced up at the group of footmen huddled at the entrance to the conservatory.

"Which of you is in the Duke of Creshton's employ?"
he asked, his sharp gaze scanning them for a likely candidate.

"That would be Henry, my lord," one of the footmen Adam had seen several times took a hesitant step forward. "He went into the village with Lady Elinore."

Adam swallowed an impatient curse. He desperately wanted to speak with the other man, but he didn't want to do anything that might bring him to the attention of the thief who'd graphically demonstrated his willingness to kill. A glance at the earl showed he was in a state of shock, and Adam realized he'd just been handed the perfect excuse to take command of the situation.

"Take two footmen and fetch the magistrate and the militia," he said, getting to his feet and addressing his remarks to the footman who had spoken first. "Then ride into the village and bring Lady Elinore back to the Hall. Until we have more of an idea of what is going on, I don't want anyone wandering off by himself."

"Yes, my lord!"

Several of the footmen went tearing off, and those who remained glanced at Adam, clearly awaiting instructions. He didn't disappoint them.

"See this room is cleared," he ordered, his eyes hard. "Then set up a guard. No one is to enter unless I have given permission."

"Yes, Lord Falconer!" they said, and hurried over to where the subdued guests were gathered. They began shepherding everyone from the room, and although there were a few mutters of protest, most seemed content to do as ordered. When he was content his instructions were being carried out, Adam turned to Derring.

The earl had risen to his feet and was standing over Colburt's body, his expression dazed. Realizing he was as much in need of direction as his servants, Adam walked over to join him.

"My lord," he said, placing his hand on the earl's arm, "you need to see to your wife. She is certain to be overset."

Derring looked at him, his eyes dull with horror. "Yes," he said, making no attempt to move. "Daresay you are quite right."

When several seconds passed and he hadn't moved, Adam took matters into his own hands and gestured at one of the remaining footmen. "Your footman will take you to your rooms, your lordship," he told the other man in a gentle but firm voice. "I will see to matters here."

Lord Derring gave another vague nod. "I just can't seem to get past it, you know," he said to Adam, a bewildered note of apology in his voice. "Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. First the missing papers, and now this. It makes one wonder what will happen next."

After he'd gone, following after the attentive footman like a meek child, Adam took a few moments to steady his own nerves and then turned back to Colburt. He hadn't any real notion what he might be looking for, but a search of the dead man's pockets seemed the most likely place to start. He knelt once again and began carrying out his self-appointed task. He'd only just started when he glanced up and saw Prince Bronyeskin standing in the doorway.

"Elizabeth?" he asked, his concern shifting from Colburt to the one person who mattered most.

"With some of the other ladies," Bronyeskin assured him, walking over to join Adam. "She needed to do something, to be of help. It will take her mind off this." He glared down at Colburt's body.

"Stupid fool," he said, a note of cold disdain in his voice. "He might have chosen a better time to die."

"I have a feeling this wasn't his idea," Adam answered mildly.

The prince merely grunted, making it plain he still held the dead man to blame for his plight. He studied the body for several seconds before gesturing at the blood staining the gray flagstones of the conservatory. "He was shot, yes?"

"I don't know," Adam admitted, the same possibility
having already occurred to him. "And to be honest, I'm not certain how to check."

In answer, Bronyeskin joined him on the floor. "It is a small thing," he said, rolling Colburt onto his side and, with Adam's help, carefully pulling up the dead man's coat and waistcoat.

"Not shot," he said, peeling back the badly stained shirt and studying Colburt's back. "He was stabbed with a very thin, very sharp blade; a bayonet, perhaps, or a stiletto. The wound is small, do you see?" His finger indicated the deep cut

Adam swallowed the bile rising in his throat. "Yes, I see," he said, forcing himself to be as cold and contained as the prince.

"An upper thrust, fast and sure," Bronyeskin concluded after examining the wound for several moments. "The amount of blood shows the heart was hit, and he likely died within seconds. It was well done." And with that he pulled the shirt and jacket back into place and rolled Colburt onto his back.

Adam gave him a considering look. "You seem to know a great deal of such things, your highness," he observed, rising to his feet and facing the other man.

The prince's blue eyes were as cold and empty as a winter's sky as he met Adam's gaze. "I was in battle. One becomes acquainted with death rather quickly. And no," he added, his lips lifting in a humorless smile, "I did not kill him."

Adam raised his eyebrows. "I don't believe I asked if you had, your highness."

"Your eyes asked," Bronyeskin said, his chin coming up with regal pride. "Make no mistake, my lord, had he hurt my Elizabeth, I would have killed Colburt with my bare hands and not cared who knew of it. But this"—he indicated the body and the conservatory with a wave of his hand—"this I did not do."

Adam's lips lifted in a half-smile. "Oddly enough, your highness, I believe you. Which begets the rather interesting
question, if you didn't kill Colburt, who did? And why?"

Prince Bronyeskin gave a slow nod. "And you think the
why
more important, yes?"

Adam's respect for the prince's intelligence rose another notch. "I consider it of the greatest importance," he said coldly. "Because once I have the why, I'll have the
who."