Page 37 of Death at Fournier Downs
Her uncle’s behavior, speaking of Hugh as if he were not in even the room, smacked of arrogance and superiority. Audrey simmered with a sudden urge to defend him.
“My lord,” Dr. Wilkes spoke before Audrey could determine what to say, “the questioning of your servants will conclude much sooner if I am joined by another competent officer of the law.”
“Competent,” the baron sneered. “No, I will not have it. I was a rather good friend of the fifth Viscount Neatham, you know.”
“How lucky for the viscount,” Hugh said, not even bothering to mask his sarcasm.
Lord Edgerton glared. “No man who so disrespected Neatham’s heir is welcome in my home. I will ask you to leave, Marsden.”
Audrey gaped, while Hugh held the baron’s glare with equal loathing. A small, barely-there tug at the corner of his lips hinted at amusement, but Audrey couldn’t imagine what Hugh could find so diverting.
“Uncle, this is absurd,” she said. “You are being rude.”
“Do not speak to your uncle that way,” her mother said, lashing out with the same buried anger she’d shown after Annie dropped the tea tray.
She forced the hard glaze of indifference to settle back upon her shoulders. When it was in place, Audrey coolly replied, “I will speak to him however I choose.”
The baron curled his upper lip. “You’ve become quite the little upstart since you married Fournier, haven’t you? Turned your back on us.”
Audrey stood from the sofa with all the calm grace she could muster. “Can you truly blame me?”
The baron stepped forward wearing a sneer so intense it was nearly comic. “Wesavedyou, you ungrateful girl.”
Her eyes burned, Dr. Wilkes and Hugh hazy in her peripheral vision. She did not want to look at either of them after this embarrassing display of familial discord, especially with her uncle’s veiled reference to when they sent her away to Shadewell to “restore” her mind.
“My lord,” her mother whispered, a frantic note on her tone as she peered at their company.
“I will take my leave, as requested,” Hugh said, his voice raised as if to divert the baron’s attention. “Dr. Wilkes, I’m sure you can cover things here.”
Eager to be gone as well, Audrey bid her mother and uncle a lackluster good day and swept from the drawing room.
“Any woman who can unravel a man’s patience so quickly and thoroughly deserves applause,” Hugh said, catching up to her outside the front entrance. Her driver opened the carriage door as she approached.
“In that case, there should be gales of applause interrupting all our conversations, Mr. Marsden.”
“I take offense, as I believe I am an excruciatingly patient man.”
Grateful at his attempt to lighten the air, she faced him. “I apologize for my uncle’s behavior. He is abrasive at best.”
“He’s a horse’s arse,” he replied, eliciting a sharp laugh from Audrey. “But that is no fault of yours. Don’t apologize for him, especially after the way he spoke to you back there.” Hugh’s eyes darkened, and she waited for him to ask what the baron had meant when he claimed to have saved her. But instead, he looked to his curricle and frowned.
“I don’t suppose you could give me a lift into Low Heath? Wilkes and I traveled together, and I should leave the curricle for him for when he finishes his interviews.”
Audrey hadn’t expected such a request, and her surprise must have shown.
“I can ride in the box with the driver,” he added, but she instantly shook her head.
“No, don’t be absurd. You’ll ride with me.” She heard how commanding her tone was and was even further flustered. He bit back a grin.
“Of course, Your Grace,” he replied with mocking reverence.
She instructed the driver and settled into the carriage, on the forward-facing bench as she generally preferred. Hugh sat across from her, and when the driver shut the door, closing them within, Audrey half-wished she had accepted Hugh’s offer for him to ride up front.
His knees were entirely too close to hers. She shifted her own aside.
“You trust Dr. Wilkes will share all he discovers with you?” she asked as disappointment from not being able to talk to the staff set in. Then again, she could have hardly gone into the kitchens herself to ask questions. A duchess entering that part of the house would have caused too much agitation and discomfort for the servants; they certainly wouldn’t have spoken plainly around her. No, the coroner would have better luck.
“I do. I find him to be high on intelligence and low on arrogance. And with two murders now, I think he knows there is something larger at play here.”
