Page 5 of Fatal By Design
Fournier pressed his lips tightly and nodded. “Shaken. There is more—she claims the conveyance belongs to her sister, Lady Redding, but the lady and anyone she may have been traveling with were no longer within the coach.”
Fournier gestured for him to continue following, and then led him through the hall, toward a pair of closed doors. Two footmen opened them, allowing them to enter without slowing. The drawing room, done in pale shades of salmon, currently occupied four people. Only one of them mattered to Hugh right then.
Audrey stood across the drawing room at the open door to the terrace, her black gown somber against the feminine pink surroundings. She met Hugh’s stare, dropped her arms from where they’d been crossed at her waist, and the room and everyone else in it became nonexistent. Distress rendered her cerulean eyes glassy, and they cut into him. The deep blue was even brighter against the contrasting widow’s black; her blonde hair, artfully drawn up and pinned, even paler. Hugh drank in the sight of her, momentarily forgetting the reason for her presence. He felt her presence like the wavering push and pull of a lodestone.
“May I introduce my wife, Her Grace, Geneva.” Miraculously, the duke’s deep voice pierced the bubble that had formed around Hugh and Audrey, at least in his own mind.
Hugh turned to greet the new duchess, a pretty woman of about thirty. She gave him a kind and welcoming smile that faltered.
“Lord Neatham, welcome to Greenbriar. I wish your arrival was not met with such alarming news.” She gestured toward Audrey. “You are acquainted with the dowager duchess.”
He attempted to keep the depth of their acquaintance from being evidenced on his expression when he looked at Audrey.
“Yes.” He sketched a short bow. “Your Grace.”
“My lord,” she replied, the words breathy and soft. Uncertain. Whether she was simply shaken by the events that had just unfolded, or if his presence bothered her, wasn’t clear.
“And this is the duke’s brother, Lord Tobias Sinclair,” the new duchess continued, placing her hand on the arm of the young man standing at her side. Tobias, the youngest of the Sinclair siblings, was tall, dark-haired, and handsome. Just out of university, most likely.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Lord Neatham,” Lord Tobias said. “My sister speaks highly of you.”
Hugh dipped his head in acknowledgement. He and Lady Cassandra had met the previous summer at Fournier Downs. She’d been spirited and curious then, but Hugh knew she had since gone through a difficult year. Instead of asking if Lady Cassandra would be joining them, Hugh turned to Fournier, who paced behind the sofa.
“Has the magistrate been sent for?”
“Yes, but as he is in Swanley, we’ll likely be waiting hours for his arrival,” the duke replied.
“Lucky for us, a Runner has arrived.”
This came from a man standing near the decanters, his flat glare locked on Hugh.
It wasn’t the first condescending remark he’d been subjected to since becoming viscount. He was no fool—he knew there were those in the ton who would never accept him, title or no. Many looked down their noses at his colorful past, especially as he had been part of the working class. However, this man in particular had a larger reason for his pretentious comment.
“Lord Westbrook,” Hugh said, recognizing him as one of Barty’s acquaintances. The Marquess of Westbrook was about ten years Barty’s senior and rumored to be as overindulgent of women and liquor as he was with the gaming tables. “As you know, I am no longer with Bow Street,” Hugh said evenly. “But I will help however I can. Tell me what is known so far.”
Westbrook only snorted and sipped his drink.
Fournier looked to Audrey and gestured for her to speak. She twisted her fingers, encased in black lace gloves, before her.
“My sister and her maid are missing,” she started to say, but Westbrook interrupted.
“We do not know for certain who the occupants of the coach were.”
Audrey cut her eyes to him; had they been knives, they would have flayed him. “The contents of the luggage left behind will prove I am correct. Michael, I’d like to see them.”
Fournier nodded and signaled a footman. “Have the trunks brought to the dowager duchess’s room.”
“And have her own trunks delivered back to her room,” the new duchess added. She then looked to Audrey. “I insist you stay, at least for the time being.”
Audrey’s answering nod was wooden and distracted.
“When did you arrive at Greenbriar, Lord Westbrook?” Hugh asked.
“About an hour ago.”
“And did you also come upon this abandoned coach?” Hugh continued.
“I did. My carriage passed it after the dowager duchess and her driver had already turned back for Greenbriar.”
