Page 30 of Fatal By Design
“The magistrate, Sir Ridley Harrow, has taken possession of the driver’s body and that of the maid’s,” Fournier said with no pre-amble. Something Hugh appreciated. “He’s arranged a double inquest in Moorsly tomorrow to determine cause of death, though it’s sure to be only ceremonial. There is no doubt both are murder.”
The duke’s expression was drawn with concern, and he looked to have suffered a few sleepless nights.
“We’ve launched a search of the parkland and surrounding villages,” Kettleridge said, his interest bright at the unexpected commotion and mystery. Unlike Westbrook, whose sour expression hinted that he saw the upheaval at Greenbriar as a nuisance. Lady Edgerton’s prideful remarks about the man planning to propose to her daughter appeared baseless on the surface.
“Several farmers have volunteered as well,” Fournier added. “They’ve been combing the woods and fields.” With an apologetic glance at Audrey, he added, “To no avail.”
At least they had not yet found a body. Considering the driver and maid were so easily found, it gave Hugh hope that Millie was still somewhere out there, alive.
His attention returned to the scowling marquess. “Lord Westbrook, I have some questions for you. If we could speak somewhere private?”
The man’s reaction leaped from surprise to insult to aggression, all before replying, “Questions in regard to what?”
Rather than enter into it here, with so many others looking on, Hugh turned to the duke. “Can we make use of your study?”
Fournier peered at Hugh with slightly less hostility than Westbrook’s. Though surely, he wasn’t happy that one of his guests was being singled out. “As this is my home, I insist on attending the meeting.”
“I’ve no objection to that,” Hugh replied. In fact, it would be best to have the duke present. With his even temper, he may well help keep Westbrook in line.
“I will also attend.” Audrey stepped forward, away from Genie and Cassandra.
Westbrook scoffed. “I am sure that is not necessary, Your Grace.”
“Yes, my dear, you’ve spent hours on the roads,” Genie said with care. “Wouldn’t you like to freshen yourself before dinner?”
Audrey had relinquished her hat and gloves and spencer to her maid for cleaning, but the dust had also coated her cheeks and forehead, as well as her skirt. Any other lady might have insisted on bathing and a rest before allowing anyone to lay eyes upon her; Audrey, however, looked ready to do battle with Lord Westbrook—or with anyone who dared tell her she could not attend the questioning.
“I’m sure Greer is already drawing a bath,” Audrey replied to her sister-in-law. “However, it will have to wait. I have questions for Lord Westbrook.”
The man emitted a croaking noise as he gaped at her. “I hardly think you have questions that His Grace and Lord Neatham cannot ask in your stead. This is a business for men, I am sure.”
Insult and ire flared in Audrey’s eyes, and though it would have been entertaining to hear her give the marquess a proper dressing down, Hugh’s patience had depleted.
“The dowager duchess will join us whether you think it necessary or not, Lord Westbrook.” His tone brooked no argument. The marquess buttoned his lips, and Fournier gestured for Westbrook, now purpling around his cravat, to follow. They both turned toward the stairs.
Audrey fell into step beside Hugh. “He is insufferable,” she whispered when the two other men were well ahead.
“He’s everything I despise in men of his ilk. Pompous, entitled, superior,” Hugh replied. And Westbrook wasn’t artful in the least about disguising his snobbishness. Instead, he wore it on his sleeve, like a badge of honor.
“I wonder at his presence for this house party,” Audrey said. “Do you think that Millie might have been coming to Greenbriar to meet with him for some reason?”
“Possibly. But I can’t grasp the connection between them. He seems to have no opinion at all of your sister.” Westbrook’s reticence to display any concern for Lady Redding’s predicament did not fit that of a man intending to propose.
“Is there any point in asking you to let me do the talking?” Hugh said as they approached the doors to the duke’s study. Audrey scowled at him playfully.
“None at all.”
He fought the desire to tug her aside and kiss her. “That is what I thought.”
ChapterTwelve
Michael was pouring a round of whiskies when she and Hugh entered the study. Audrey was hopeful one of the glasses was meant for her, but knowing her brother-in-law, she wouldn’t count on it. For a moment, she debated on joining him at the decanters and pouring her own, if only to fortify herself for the coming conversation. Lord Westbrook’s surly reaction to being questioned hadn’t been remarkable. In fact, his agitation only indicated that he was hiding something.
The marquess stood stiffly, his whole demeanor radiating indignance.
“Ask your questions, then, though I don’t know what the devil this could be about,” he all but shouted.
The whisky would have to come later. Getting this interview finished was far more appealing. She remained standing, her hands resting on the back of a leather club chair.
