Page 20 of Death at Fournier Downs
Hugh glanced back at the painting, but then, finding it as mediocre as Audrey had, shifted his attention toward the bed beside them. She was suddenly aware of their proximity and the impropriety of her barging into his room and lying in wait for him, for a moment alone. It flustered her, and the continued silence from Hugh, his closeness, and the way he seemed to be inspecting the striped pattern of the bed’s top blanket did not help. The need to fill the silence bubbled up and could be the only reason why she heard herself asking the inane question, “How have you been?”
He looked up, as if rising to the surface of some thought. Whatever he’d been thinking in that stretch of silence, it had not been related to Audrey or their current position in his room above a tavern.
“Busy,” he replied. “And yourself?”
Did he really wonder, or was he only being polite?
“Not very busy at all. The country is dreadfully dull.”
Hugh’s mouth twitched. “That’s what Sir says.”
The street boy. “You brought him with you.”
“And Basil, my valet. It seems he was worried about my ability to dress myself properly.”
Audrey bit back a grin. “And Sir?”
His countenance darkened a degree. “The lad is clever. He’s proven useful.”
He spoke blithely, but there was nothing cavalier about bringing a street boy along with him to a case in the countryside. She suspected Hugh cared more than he was comfortable admitting to.
“I heard that the duke was unwell earlier this summer.”
It didn’t surprise her that he’d heard the rumor. Low Heath was a small village, and many of its residents had relatives employed at Fournier House. Not to mention that gossiping about the lords and ladies provided much entertainment.
“He’s recovered now,” she said, curious as to what, exactly, he had heard.
Greer told Audrey that the understaff suspected a case of malaria, which was absurd considering Philip had been to no part of Africa or India to contract the disease. However, she wondered if Greer had simply been sparing her the truth of the staff’s whispers. Philip’s malaise bore all the hallmarks of a venereal disease and well Audrey knew it. After learning of his affair with St. John, which had, he admitted, lasted several months, she suspected he’d contracted something unsavory. Once more, she was grateful their marriage did not include any of the traditional obligations.
“Did Doctor Ryder attend to him?” Hugh asked next.
“Yes. That’s right, I saw him in the storeroom. He was among the jury.”
Hugh paced away from her, opening the narrow path between the bedstead and the plaster wall. “Did you know of Lady Bainbury’s losses this last year?” he asked. When Audrey frowned, making her confusion plain, he explained. “Two babes. Miscarriages, both.”
Her stomach plummeted, and her chest ached for her friend. Poor Charlotte. She had not confided in her about the events. Hadn’t even hinted that she wanted a child. Then again, Audrey, also childless after nearly three years of marriage, understood that speaking about the topic with anyone wasn’t easy. It had been yet another circumstance Charlotte believed they had in common.
“That is awful,” she murmured, distracted by the new revelation. She thought back on her meetings with Charlotte over the summer and tried to recall if she’d given any indication but could come up with nothing. “I would have thought, out of all her friends, she would have shared something like that with me.”
“You were that close?” Hugh asked. She frowned at the question.
“Close enough.” He was astute enough to put together why Charlotte and Audrey might be able to bond over such a subject. She didn’t need to say explicitly. It wasn’t a proper subject for them to discuss. Then again, none of this was proper.
“I should go,” she said, realizing with a start how long she had been sequestered here, in Hugh’s room. Philip had long since left for home.
Hugh nodded tightly, then stepped to the door and peered into the hallway.
“It’s clear. Sir will be at the bottom of the stairs. He’ll let you know if you should wait.”
Audrey stepped toward the door, ready to leave and yet also hesitant. “What will you do now?”
“Arrange an interview with Bainbury. I’d like to speak to the countess’s maid as well.”
Audrey wished she could do the same, but it was out of the realm of possibility for her. “I’ll let you know what I find in the woods.”
She reached for the doorknob, but before she could open the door, Hugh placed his palm onto the wood panel just above her hand, to hold it closed. Her pulse knocked in her neck. He stood so close, his sleeve brushed against hers.
“Be careful out there, duchess.”
