Page 30 of An Execution, an Earl, and Miss Hughes
“I am helping Miss Hughes out of a sense of chivalry,” Lucian answered ambiguously, out of deference to Sarah. He believed a gentleman should never kiss and tell—though, sadly, he did have any kisses to tell of. Yet.
“Of course,” Crabb’s tone was disbelieving.
“As you are aware,” Lucian ploughed on, “After their cross words in The Ring, the villagers all assume that it was Mr Hughes who murdered Hardwick.”
“The gossips of Plumpton do not ascribe to the idea of innocent until proved guilty,” Crabb was droll. “Luckily, none of them are charged with upholding the law.”
“I believe Mr Hughes innocent,” Lucian said firmly. “There were many more people than he with motive to kill the man.”
The viscount raised a curious brow, prompting Lucian to go through the list of suspects he and Sarah had compiled. Crabb nodded in agreement with Mr Leek’s name, then a little less enthusiastically for Mrs Fawkes, then raised two eyebrows in disbelief at hearing Mrs Bridges mentioned.
“Mrs Bridges?” he repeated, as he rubbed his ear. “She wouldn’t harm a fly. And she cured Michael’s colic—do you know what a lack of sleep does to a man, Ashford?”
“I have vague memories,” Lucian grimaced. “And while I’m certain you and Lady Crabb owe your sanity to her remedies, Mrs Bridges will remain on the list. Even if it’s only so we can clear her name entirely.”
The viscount nodded solemnly at that, his square jaw set with resolve. Lucian suspected that, as a former sailor, Lord Crabb was somewhat salt-hearted and thus more inclined to rescue old women than implicate them in a murder.
“And if it turns out she did do it, then we shall remedy matters discreetly,” Crabb declared, confirming Lucian’s suspicions.
“If you are in agreement that we should investigate further, then might I suggest that we start with confirming alibis for all our suspects?” Lucian suggested.
“Capital idea,” Lord Crabb replied, setting down his empty glass.
He called for a footman to have his horse readied and within a few minutes, he and Lucian were riding toward Hill House.
“Have you a grand plan for extracting an alibi for Mrs Fawkes without accusing her of making her husband a cuckold right in front of him?” Crabb asked cheerfully, as both men dismounted at the top of the gravel drive.
“Of a sort,” Lucian fibbed. “Though if I shout ‘run’, I suggest you do just that.”
Most fortunately for both their hides, the door was answered by the footman with the ramrod-straight spine who revealed that both his master and mistress were abroad.
“Shall I tell them you called, my lords?” he asked solicitously.
“Do,” Crabb answered at the same time as Lucian said; “Don’t.”
The footman blinked uneasily; Lucian suspected that he preferred his commands to be less confusing.
“Lord Crabb and I are investigating the murder of Mr Hardwick,” Lucian continued, rather enjoying the drama of his declaration. “We require alibis for all those who interacted with Mr Hardwick in the weeks before his murder. Can you confirm that the colonel was visiting with Sir Charles that night?”
“Yes, my lord,” the lad answered. Lucian saw his hand twitch and wondered was it an old impulse to salute.
“And Mrs Fawkes?” he added lightly. “Can you confirm that she was at home all night?”
“I can, my lord,” the footman replied, though this time he stepped off parade and added a mutter; “Couldn’t help but hear her, could I?”
He paled as he realised that Lucian was regarding him with naked curiosity and quickly tried to extricate himself. “She’s loud is all and I like my sleep. Didn’t mean to speak out of turn, my lord.”
“Is there anything else you’d like to share?” Lucian pressed, “Anything at all?”
“No, my lord,” the lad was now resolute. “You have my word that Mrs Fawkes was at home the whole night, that’s all.”
As it was clear that the servant would not divulge anything else, Lucian and Lord Crabb bid him good day and returned to their mounts.
“Curious,” the viscount commented, as they trotted back down the drive.
“And disheartening,” Lucian sighed in reply. “I believe we’ve just crossed one suspect off our list.”
They rode on in silence, both men secretly wondering just what noises Mrs Fawkes had made that night to put her manservant in such mutinous form.
