Page 43 of Nature of the Crime
Sir tipped his hat, and Edmunds looked expectantly at Hugh. “What interest do you have with a manifest from that packet?”
Thornton crossed his arms, also looking as if he’d like to know.
“There was someone aboard theGorselast June who may also be connected to the baron and Vaillancourt,” he started out. “Someone who is now dead. Daniel Grayson.”
Thornton’s arms dropped. “Grayson? Wasn’t he the duke’s valet?”
Before Hugh could reply, the lieutenant also came alert. “Daniel Grayson. The man who fell to his death in the Grand Shaft?”
Sir whistled lowly. “Bad luck.”
“What does he have to with anything?” Edmunds asked.
Hugh blew out a breath. He couldn’t ignore the question. Neither could he reveal everything. Not without first speaking with Audrey.
“Grayson sailed here from Calais shortly after the late duke’s death. He wrote to his parents that he’d met with someone from the duke’s past and would be traveling with him. He didn’t write a name. However, it’s come to light that this past acquaintance might want revenge against Audrey or the late duke.”
Edmunds frowned. “Revenge for what?”
This was getting muddled. He paused to think, and while he did, Thornton spoke.
“The duke was accused of murder nearly two years ago. He was, of course, exonerated, and a marquess, Wimbly, admitted to orchestrating it. He might not have gotten his own hands bloody, but he hired the killer.”
Hugh scrubbed his chin while inspecting the paper in his hand. The names were all in a slanted scrawl but easy enough to read.
“I do not understand how this is connected to the recent murders,” Edmunds said.
As Hugh skimmed the names, all but one became a blur. The small hairs on his arms stood on end as one name in particular seemed to expand over the fibers of the paper.
“The duchess was integral in apprehending the true killer. And also in uncovering Wimbly’s role,” Thornton went on as Hugh continued in his silence.
“Is that so? And you think someone who wants revenge on the dowager duchess for her meddling is the one attempting to frame her now,” the lieutenant said. “What is your evidence?”
S.J. Jewell.Jewell House was where Philip and Augustus St. John, Wimbly’s heir, had met clandestinely for their trysts.
“Hugh, what is it you’ve found?” Thornton asked.
He folded the manifest, thinking fast. “There is no evidence. Not yet. But Wimbly was exiled to Australia, and his wife and heir disappeared from London in shame and ruination.”
“Wimbly’s heir and wife are from the duke’s past,” Sir said, “like what the sorry valet wrote in his letter. And they probably don’t like the duchess all that much.”
“No, they wouldn’t,” he murmured. From Audrey’s vision, he knew there had been someone else—a man—with Vaillancourt on theBritannia. If he could find that manifest, he was certainS.J. Jewellwould be on it.
“I think we should speak to the dowager duchess.” Edmunds turned to Sir. “Will we find her at the inn?”
“Nah, she’s gone to the Western Heights with Greer.”
Hugh stuffed the manifest into his pocket. “The Heights? Whatever for?”
“Tea with his wife,” Sir said, gesturing loosely toward the lieutenant.
Edmunds laughed. “That’s impossible. My wife is in Derbyshire visiting her sister. I don’t expect her back until spring.”
Hugh’s pulse slowed as Sir scowled. “But she got an invitation. So, she and Greer set right out for that shaft of death.”
Dread pooled in Hugh’s veins. “When? Tell me, Sir, when did she go?”
Sir began to pale, his eyes going to saucers as he understood something was wrong. “A half hour maybe? I made my way here to give you the list, when she and Greer were leaving.”
