Page 29 of Death at Fournier Downs
“How far is the estate?” he asked, glancing into the trees again. A bare bit of dirt between two trees ahead drew his attention. He got closer and saw it was another foot path. “She must have come through here.”
“The path might lead to one of the lower pastures,” Audrey said. He glanced back at her. Her wan coloring concerned him. She’d had a shock and had spent the last quarter hour believing she would need to fight off a murderer. Hugh only wanted to gather her to him again and hold her, but that moment in the cottage could not be repeated.
He focused on the new victim. “You stayed behind to touch one of her belongings,” he guessed.
“Her basket.”
“Anything?”
She shook her head. “She was struck from behind. She didn’t see her attacker.”
He searched the ground again, from where the body lay prone to the head of the footpath. While not well worn, the path saw plenty of foot travel. People came this way, to the cottage often. But why?
A whistle sounded through the clearing, and then a jangle of tack chased it. The Duke of Fournier shot into the dell on a regal stallion, though at the moment he himself looked ragged. He wore no hat or gloves and was not at all prepared for riding.
“Audrey!” The duke caught sight of her and immediately dismounted. He rushed to her, sparing Hugh not even a glance.
“I’m fine,” she told him, but the duke still inspected her closely. He saw the body in the grass and with an arm around Audrey, led her away from it.
Two more riders, both stable hands, joined them in the clearing, and then Cassandra too. She let out a cry and jumped from her horse, to embrace Audrey.
“What the devil are you doing out here?” Fournier asked the duchess.
“Cassie and I went for a ride and—”
“We discussed this. You were to stay out of it!”
Hugh suspected it was only panic driving his anger, but he still grew warm with annoyance.
“A woman has been killed, and there is a body to see to, Your Grace,” Hugh said, raising his voice before the duke could speak again. Fournier now speared Hugh with his full attention. There was suspicion and displeasure in his mien, but Hugh didn’t have the wherewithal for it.
“If you will escort the duchess and Lady Cassandra back to the manor, your men and I will follow with the victim. Coroner Wilkes should be arriving soon.”
The duke looked like he wanted to argue but held his tongue and led the women toward the horses. Audrey’s eyes skated over Hugh’s briefly as she passed. A few drops of rain slid under his loosened cravat and chilled the back of his neck.
“You there,” he shouted to the two stable hands, hovering a far step away from the body. “Shore yourselves up and let’s get this over with.”
ChapterEleven
The shivers had reduced in their violence, but Audrey couldn’t shake them entirely. Philip had railed at her the entire ride back to Fournier Downs, his voice competing with the whipping wind, the rustle of the tree branches, and the labored breathing of the horses. Cassie tried to defend their outing, saying they were only searching for the cottage mentioned at the inquest. Philip had growled, “Is that so?” knowing full well nothing about a cottage had been mentioned at the inquest.
When they finally returned to the manor, Cassie bid them an early goodnight before being whisked to her bedchamber. It was no wonder. The poor girl had been grievously distressed to find a dead body, and then, riding back and forth along the woodland path in a tumultuous rainstorm had exacerbated her misery.
In her own bedchamber, Audrey had let Greer strip her of her sopping dress and boots and then submerged herself into the copper tub full of hot water and soap. Her boudoir was also attached to the sitting room in Philip’s own collection of rooms, and she could hear him angrily knocking about in there. A light rap on the connecting door didn’t necessarily surprise Audrey as she was toweling off, but she also did not know if she had any energy left to defend herself.
“Just a moment,” she called, then nodded to Greer who took her leave. Audrey wrapped herself into a velvet banyan and called for him to enter.
He was in trousers and shirtsleeves and had forgone any finishing touches like a neckcloth and waistcoat. His golden-brown hair had been toweled off, but it was still darker than usual. His relaxed shoulders and rueful expression put Audrey at ease.
“Forgive me my temper,” he said, coming across the boudoir’s sapphire Aubusson carpet and extending a glass of whisky. Audrey accepted the peace offering and sipped the spirits, hoping it would warm her.
She hated arguing with Philip. It was so rare an occurrence that she was simply not accustomed to it. She supposed if they bickered all the time, she would become immune to his displeasure being directed toward her.
“Only if you will forgive me. I should have brought a footman or two with us—”
“Or your husband,” he interjected with an arched brow.
“Or my husband,” she added with a wry grin.
