Page 11 of Fatal By Design
“I am listening.”
“It has to do with Philip,” she said, her eyes unable to meet his. She closed them, breathed in, as if bracing herself. Shehadbeen hiding something. Though now Hugh wasn’t certain he wanted to know what it was.
“What about him?” he asked when she remained tongue tied.
“I…” She glanced over her shoulder, toward where the others waited with the carriage. “We need more privacy.”
“I think you should just tell me,” he said. She turned back to him, and the panic in her eyes nearly bowled him over.
What in hell did she have to say about Philip?
A sharp whistle drew Hugh’s attention to Sir, still seated on the driver’s bench. The boy twisted at the hip and peered down the road, in the direction of Greenbriar.
“Riders!” he shouted to Hugh.
Audrey broke away and began to hurry toward the road, likely grateful for the reprieve. It wouldn’t last. Whatever she needed to say, he would make sure it came out before the day ended.
He increased his speed, overtaking Audrey and reaching the road first. The two men approaching on horseback rode at a gallop, their tailcoats flapping behind them. It was the duke and his younger brother, Tobias.
“Michael, Tobias,” Audrey said, coming out of the meadow. “What has happened?”
Their drawn expressions and heavy breathing indicated something more had gone wrong.
“We’d hoped to catch you on the road,” the duke panted. “There’s been news from Moorsly. Audrey, you should come with us. A woman’s body has been found.”
ChapterFive
It was closing in on four o’clock in the afternoon when they arrived at the farm in Moorsly, a small village north of Greenbriar. Audrey had not had the occasion to visit it while she’d been staying with Michael and Genie, and as she took in the few shops and buildings in the village—a tavern and stables, an ironmonger, a grocer, a tobacconist—she could see why. There was not much offered in the way of diversions for ladies like Audrey and Genie. No milliner or dressmaker, or even a shoemaker. But the kitchen maids from Greenbriar frequently visited the grocer and farms, and that was where one such housemaid heard tell of a body that had just been pulled from the river that ran through the town.
Audrey barely said a word as Norris directed their carriage, following Michael and Tobias. Hugh tapped his foot and shifted his position incessantly as they traveled the five or so miles. She caught him glimpsing at her several times, too. What had she been thinking in that field, blurting out that she needed to tell him something about Philip? Their voices would have carried to Sir, Greer, and Norris, especially if Hugh had started to bellow about Philip’s deception. But it was as if her body needed to purge the truth. Lying to Hugh, pretending, felt unnatural. It felt more wrong than anything else had in the last few months.
Thankfully, they’d been interrupted, though the reason for it weighed on her. Michael had said that there was no word on who the woman was, but the discovery of a body on the same day as Millie’s disappearance was too great a coincidence to overlook.
Time had seemed to suspend as they traveled, but upon Norris’s slowing of the horses, and a small house and barn coming into view, it catapulted forward again. Her heartbeat rushed, turning her pulse rapid and her breathing uneven. She hardly noticed Hugh handing her down from the carriage, and then following him, Michael, and Tobias to where a man stood waiting by a pair of open barn doors. His white hair, wire spectacles, and the proper, if tatty, cravat suited the picture of country doctor well, and indeed, that is what he was.
“Doctor Winslow, at your service, Your Grace.” The older gentleman bowed after Michael introduced himself and their party. “It is a sorry business. The young woman was taken from the Wending, just beyond Mr. Searle’s turnip field. There was nothing to be done by that point. We heard there was a commotion on the road to Greenbriar? A kidnapping?”
“Yes, and a murder as well. A driver, killed,” Michael replied. But Audrey’s mind clung to what Doctor Winslow had imparted.
“Ayoungwoman, you say?”
He turned to her. “Yes, Your Grace. Could there be a connection?”
Hugh stepped forward. “If you could show us to the body?”
He still possessed the same command for respect as he had when he was working at Bow Street. The doctor jumped to it and led them into the barn. Afternoon sunlight filtered through gaps between the barn boards, gilding the dust motes floating in the air. The smell of sweet hay and pungent manure gathered in the back of her throat.
The moment she saw the canvas-tarp covered body on a plain wooden table, she knew that it wasn’t Millie. The figure underneath was too petite. Millie wasn’t large, but she was taller than Audrey by an inch or two and had an impressive bosom and wider hips. Relief quickly changed over to guilt; she should not have felt anything other than sorrow for the woman underneath the moth-eaten tarp, which the farmer had likely scrounged up in the barn.
“If Her Grace will prefer to remain outside?” Dr. Winslow said when he realized Audrey had followed them into the barn.
“Her Grace does not prefer,” Audrey replied, then smiled. “Please, carry on. I won’t perish on the spot.”
With an unsettled and distinctly disapproving sniff and prop of his brow, he turned to the table. Hugh took a step closer to her as the doctor reached for the canvas. She could sense his concern, his readiness to take her arm if indeed it was Millie. But as she’d already suspected, when the canvas was drawn back, the face of a woman she had never met was revealed.
She was indeed young, likely no more than twenty. Graciously, her eye lids had been closed, though they appeared bruised by the ashy blue tinge of death. Her lips were bone white, her dress and hair still damp. The cut, style, and quality of her dress would have informed the others of this woman’s status, but it was Audrey’s earlier vision that confirmed the poor woman’s identity.
“Millie’s maid,” she said, her throat tight. She had been alive in the vision, wide eyed with confusion and fright, and now…here she lay, dead.
