Page 69 of Murder at Hambledon Hall
“You only admitted itafteryou found yourself in hot water, and you didn’t get out of it yourself. Harry got you out of it.”
“I said I madeattempts.” He tapped the end of my nose with his finger. “He’s downstairs in the smoking room.”
“Harry?”
“Brown turd.” He laughed. “Did you hear that, Cleo? Brown turd. I combined his name with what he is and the result is so witty. I’m smartandamusing when I’m drunk.”
“I thought you were simply tired.”
The lift door opened further along the corridor, and Mr. Browning emerged. He spotted me speaking to Floyd. Instead of heading to his own room, he approached.
“Evening, Miss Fox,” he said, a little loudly considering the late hour and everyone was asleep.
Instead of telling him to keep his voice down, or point out it was no longer evening, I smiled. He didn’t sound as drunk as Floyd, but he was certainly suffering the effects of alcohol, going by the way he swayed. The perfect opportunity had just presented itself.
Floyd leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. “Go to bed, Browning.”
“I want to speak to your pretty cousin.”
“She doesn’t want to talk to you.”
“Actually, I do,” I said.
Mr. Browning licked his smirking lips and tried to enter my suite. Floyd blocked him with an arm across the doorway.
“We can talk here,” I said, realizing I’d given the wrong impression.
Mr. Browning’s top lip curled with his sneer. He directed the sneer at me then Floyd. “She’s not worth it anyway.”
Floyd drew himself up to his full height.
Mr. Browning chuckled and began to walk off.
“Were you jealous of your wife’s relationship with Esmond Shepherd?” I asked.
He spun around and marched back to me, proving he wasn’t as drunk as he seemed. His fists opened and closed at his sides. “What did you say?”
I’d said it purely to make him stop. It had worked, but I changed my mind about pressing him on the thefts. My questions could wait until broad daylight when he was sober. Perhaps then he’d remember his gentlemanly manners.
He leaned so close I could see the fury burning in his eyes, despite the poor light. My heart pounded, drumming out a warning not to antagonize this man further.
Floyd’s drunkenness meant his warning system wasn’t working as well as mine. “She said, were you jealous of your wife?”
Mr. Browning flinched as if he’d been struck, but he didn’t take his hard gaze off me. He raised a fist and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought was going to hit me. Instead, he unfurled the fist and poked me in the shoulder. “You are one ofthosewomen, aren’t you? You may look pretty and feminine, but you act and think like a man. You’re not natural. You’re afreak. Bainbridge, you should lock her in a cage and charge admission so normal people can come and see her. You could earn a?—”
Floyd slammed his fist into Mr. Browning’s stomach.
Mr. Browning doubled over, wheezing.
Floyd rolled his shoulder and stood a little taller. “Disparage my cousin again and I’ll smash your nose. Try explainingthatto your wife.”
Mr. Browning’s wheezing subsided enough that he was able to straighten. “I’ll tell Sir Ronald about this. Wait until he hears that his friend was assaulted by his own son.”
That knocked the wind out of Floyd’s sails and rendered him quite speechless.
“Thank you, Floyd. I’ll take over from here.” I gave Mr. Browning a pitying smile. “Your brother-in-law is Uncle Ronald’s friend, not you. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that both men think you deserved that punch after what you said. But if you do find you want to tell Sir Ronald, then I must warn you that I will tell everyone that you stole from Hambledon Hall.”
Floyd stared at me, open-mouthed.
