Page 11 of Death at Fournier Downs
Hugh kept moving, toward the base. The side of the open pit was an impressive display of mantle, showing layers of sediment. A few trees had grown out of it, their trunks curved to reach toward the sun. Vines, both bare and leafy, trailed down from the summit ledge as well. This place had been forgotten, and nature had slowly started to reclaim it.
He arrived at the base and turned to help Audrey, reaching out a hand in case she needed it. The last step down was steep. However, she sat onto the boulder step and pushed herself off easily, landing on deft feet. Hugh eyed the path back up but decided not to worry about scaling it just yet.
The ground was soft as Hugh walked toward the rocks splashed with the telling blood.
“Many quarries transform into lakes over time,” he said, his eyes pinned onto the quarry floor.
“This one drains rather quickly.” She stepped over the scree alongside him. “What are you looking for?”
“Evidence. Once you left to summon help, the other person might have climbed down here—if in fact there was another person.”
“You doubt me.”
“No. I doubt what you think you know.”
“That is one and the same.”
“I need evidence. We can go no further without it.” It was as simple as that. Audrey nodded tightly, and Hugh continued to search the ground. He crouched by the bloodied rock, the color of it rusty and fading.
He spotted a few depressions of bootheels in the soft ground, but they could have belonged to the men who’d come to fetch the countess’s body. He looked up, toward the summit. It loomed over them. A fall onto these rocks would have brought immediate death—at least he hoped it had. Hugh’s stomach knotted at the thought of anyone suffering after a fall from such a height.
“There is nothing to be found down there,” the duke called.
Hugh hated to admit that Fournier was probably right. As he straightened his legs, Audrey crouched on the other side of the same bloodied rock. She ran her palm over the tufts of grass that grew between the rubble. Then stood. Hugh watched as she slid her hand into the small pocket of her riding jacket.
“We should ascend,” she said, walking quickly from the spot.
She’d found something. Hugh would have placed a hefty wager on it.
He followed her to the ledge path and motioned for her to climb first. She assessed the bottommost boulder, as if trying to decide how to scale it to begin her ascent.
“I’ll give you a boost,” he finally said, then crouched and laced his fingers, giving her a step for her to place her foot. As she did, he murmured, “What did you just put in your pocket?”
He lifted her up, and Audrey sat down hard onto the boulder. She glared at him, now at his eye level as he stood.
“Absolutely nothing,” she whispered, turning to get onto her knees and then, onto her feet.
Hugh pushed himself up onto the boulder behind her. “Liar,” he whispered.
She placed her hands onto the ledge, wedged in her foot, and shot a look over her shoulder. Hugh stood behind her on the boulder, eyebrow arched in challenge.
“Keep climbing, duchess,” he said softly.
She whipped her head forward, facing the ledge again, and Hugh put every last ounce of his willpower into not observing the backside of her figure, or seeking a glimpse of her ankles, as she climbed the path ahead of him. He was warm and perspiring, even without his coat, when they reached the summit. The duke helped Audrey onto the ground above, his ire evident.
“That was absurd,” Fournier said.
“Nonsense,” she replied, brushing off her skirt and retrieving her hat from Cassandra. “It was rather invigorating, even if it yielded nothing.”
Hugh picked up his coat, gloves, and hat, and took a quick look around the stone hut he’d spied earlier. Roots and vines had taken over, and only a few old, rusted tools were left, along with a withered table and some wooden buckets. Still, from this vantage point, he found he could peer through one of the open frame windows, out toward the quarry ledge, and be obscured by some thorny brush.
The duke eyed the slate sky. “Let us make haste. The weather is turning.”
Audrey seemed all too eager to comply, and Hugh figured it was due to whatever she had slipped into her pocket.
They rode about five minutes from the quarry, until Audrey pulled her mount to a stop.
“Here,” she said. “This was where Charlotte was when I saw her running. I was up there, at the top of that field.” She pointed through the gap in a stone wall, into a sloping field of lush green grass and wildflowers.
