Candice Hern (68 page)

"We are very glad you have come," Meg said. "And I hope you will stay as long as you like. Lord Sedgewick will no doubt be glad of your company while he is confined to bed."

"Thank you, Miss Ashburton," Mr. Herriot said. "I would like to stay until he has fully recovered, if that is acceptable. Then I shall see that he is safely conveyed home." He rose from the chair. "May I see him?"

Meg started to rise, but Terrence placed a hand on her arm to forestall her. "If you do not mind, Mr. Herriot," he said, "I would like to discuss something with you first."

"Of course," Mr. Herriot said as he resumed his seat.

Meg gave her brother a quizzical look, but he ignored her, keeping his eyes fixed on their guest.

"Does your cousin," Terrence began very slowly, "have any enemies?"

Mr. Herriot's head jerked back in astonishment. "I beg your pardon?"

Meg furrowed her brow and stared at her brother. What on earth had he meant by such a question?

"Are you aware of anyone," Terrence continued, "who might wish to do your cousin harm?"

"I... I do not... " Mr. Herriot stammered and looked thoroughly confused.

"Terrence?" Meg prompted. "What—"

"Good heavens!" Mr. Herriot said at the same moment. "You do not mean that—"

Terrence held up his hand, and both Meg and Mr. Herriot glared at him. "I am afraid that what happened to Lord Sedgewick was no accident. His curricle had been deliberately tampered with. The axle was cut almost clean through."

Mr. Herriot stared at Terrence in open-mouthed astonishment.

Meg grabbed her brother's arm and squeezed hard. "Terrence! What are you saying? You never mentioned this before."

Terrence laid a hand over hers. "I am sorry, Meggie. I had not wanted to trouble you. But now that his lordship's cousin has arrived, I thought it best to let him know the true situation." He turned to face the wide-eyed Mr. Herriot. "I have said nothing to Lord Sedgewick. He only regained consciousness yesterday, and is still very weak."

"You are saying ..." Mr. Herriot began in a voice so soft it was barely above a whisper, "you are saying that someone tried ... tried to k-kill Sedge?"

Terrence glanced at Meg and then turned again toward their guest. "I am afraid it looks that way." He dropped his eyes and lowered his voice. "I am sorry. I thought you should know."

"My God." Mr. Herriot let out a ragged breath. "My God."

"When did you learn this, Terrence?" Meg asked, still clutching her brother's arm.

"Soon after we brought Lord Sedgewick home," Terrence replied. "Seamus discovered the broken axle and was immediately suspicious. After he reported it to me I examined it myself. There is no question about it. The axle had been sawn. It was no accidental break."

"Who would have done such a thing?" Meg murmured, speaking her thoughts aloud.

"I was hoping Mr. Herriot might be able to help us on that score," Terrence said, turning to their guest and raising his brows in question.

"I don't know. I don't know." Albert Herriot's hands trembled as he brought the glass of brandy to his lips and took a deep swallow. He closed his eyes for a moment and then seemed much more steady when he opened them once again. "Truly, I can think of no one. Sedge has no enemies that I am aware of." He shook his head as he looked down at the glass in his hand. "No, everyone loves Sedge. He is . . . well, he is one of the most amiable men I have ever known."

"He has angered no one that you know of?" Terrence asked. "No—I beg your pardon, Meggie—no jealous husbands, that sort of thing?"

"No, no. Nothing that I know of."

"Well, if it is not over a woman," Terrence said, "then such actions are usually a product of either greed or revenge. I take it your cousin is a rich man?"

Mr. Herriot nodded.

"Who looks to inherit?"

Mr. Herriot sighed. "His title and estates are entailed. I am his heir." In the next breath, he straightened upright with a jerk. His widened eyes glared first at Terrence, then at Meg, then back to Terrence. "Good Lord, you cannot think that
I
—"

"No, no, of course not," Terrence interrupted.

"My God, man. Sedge is like a brother to me."

"I understand, Mr. Herriot, and I am certainly not suggesting that you had anything to do with his accident. I am merely trying to make some sense of what happened."

Mr. Herriot relaxed back into the chair, but his brow remained furrowed with confusion and a hint of anger.

"Are there any other persons," Terrance asked, "who might benefit from Lord Sedgewick's death?"

"I am certain his mother and sister will receive generous settlements," Mr. Herriot said in a chilly voice. "And his sister's son, no doubt. The boy is all of five years old and something of a hellion. A bit young, don't you think, to be plotting against his uncle?"

Terrence ignored Mr. Herriot's angry sarcasm and went on. "What about gambling debts? Does your cousin hold anyone's vowels?"

Mr. Herriot continued to glare at Terrence. Finally, he relaxed back into his chair and sighed. "Not that I know of. There was one fellow a few months back, Lord Digby, who lost quite a tidy little fortune to Sedge. The man was in his cups and made a bit of a spectacle of himself at White's. Never came right out and accused Sedge of cheating, which would have been ridiculous. But cursed my cousin's run of luck quite loudly."

"What happened to Digby?"

"Paid his shot, as far as I know. Sedge never mentioned it again."

"Anyone else you can think of?" Terrence asked.

Mr. Herriot brought a hand to his temple and squeezed his eyes shut. Shaking his head, he said, "No, no one." After a moment, he looked up once again. "And the business with Digby ... well, the man was drunk. I do not want to give the wrong impression."

"I think we should consider this mystery some other time," Meg said as she rose from the settee. Poor Mr. Herriot looked thoroughly rattled. She did not think it the proper time or place to be analyzing all of Lord Sedgewick's actions and acquaintances. "Mr. Herriot will be wanting to see his cousin."

Both men rose as Meg stepped past them, heading toward the door. "Thank you, Miss Ashburton," Mr. Herriot said. "I would like to see him, if he is up to having visitors."

"We will just have to go and see, will we not?" Meg said.

* * *

"Thank you, Pargeter," Sedge said as he toweled his freshly shaved face. "I feel human again." The valet retrieved the towel and then helped Sedge into a clean nightshirt. "It is good to have you back with me, Pargeter. Although," he said, flashing a grin at the dour man as he rearranged the pillows behind Sedge's back, "I have had the most charming nursemaid during your absence. Are you quite certain you are fully recovered? Perhaps you should return to Mount Street and get your strength back. Take a few weeks off."

"I am quite recovered, my lord," Pargeter replied as he straightened the counterpane. "It was only an attack of a bilious stomach which left as quickly as it came. Besides, you will need a proper manservant while confined to bed. It is not right that you should allow a young lady—"

He was interrupted by a knock on the bedchamber door.

"Sedge!"

Pargeter held open the door as Sedge's cousin Albert walked into the room, wearing a broad smile. "What sort of mischief have you got into this time?"

"Bertie! Good to see you, old chap." He reached out to grab the hand offered by his cousin and shook it vigorously. It really was good to see him. Though given to a certain amount of recklessness, he had always been a likable young man and Sedge was quite fond of him. He released his hand and swung it in a sweeping gesture across the bed. "As you see, I have made rather a mess of things. Broke my bloody leg."

He looked beyond Albert to see that Miss Ashburton and Sir Terrence had followed him into the room, and were both smiling broadly. Sedge felt the heat of a blush color his cheeks. "Forgive my language, Miss Ashburton," he said, offering a sheepish grin, "I did not see you."

She continued smiling and gave a wave of dismissal. "I just wanted to see that Mr. Herriot found you awake. I shall leave you two gentlemen to converse in private—without the constricting presence of a lady." She grinned at Sedge and then turned to speak to Albert. "Mr. Herriot, your things have been taken to the bedchamber just across the hall. Please, make yourself at home. We dine rather late, due to stable business, but a cold luncheon is always set out just after noon." With that, she turned and walked away, Sedge's eyes following her as she left the room. After a few brief words, Sir Terrence followed her, leaving Sedge alone with Albert.

Sedge turned to his young cousin, raised his brows, and grinned. "Well?"

"Sedge, you devil! How on earth did you contrive to be rescued by such a beauty? She is magnificent."

"Isn't she, though? A dashed shame to be immobile at such a time."

"That did not seem to keep you from devouring her with your eyes."

"I shall have to be less obvious," Sedge said. "But what the devil am I supposed to do? She is the only female for miles, as far as I can tell, save for her grandmother and the housekeeper. This is a stud farm, after all. Did you know?"

"Oh, yes," Albert said. "There is no mistaking it. Horses everywhere. The iron gates leading onto the estate are topped with a huge, gilded horse's head. The walls of most of the rooms I've seen are hung with equine portraits and hunting prints. Wooton. Stubbs. That sort of thing."

Sedge smiled and gestured to the portrait of Blue Blazes hung over the fireplace.

Albert nodded and walked around the bed to the windows. Sedge had asked that the curtains be tied back to brighten up the room. Though he could see nothing more than sky from his position on the bed, it nevertheless cheered him up to let a little of the outdoors inside. Albert stood at one of the windows and looked out.

"Besides," he said, tilting his head as though to indicate something below, "I saw the stables as I drove up. Very impressive. You should see them, Sedge."

"Bertie, Bertie," Sedge moaned, "
must
you be so cruel? How can I see them when I'm stuck in this damned bed? Oh, but I cannot wait to be up and about."

* * *

"So, you see, Pargeter, you need not worry about the receipt," Gram said as she removed the muslin cover from the crock of her special infusion ingredients. "The mixture is already combined. You need only measure out the correct amount, then allow it to brew for at least one hour. No less, mind."

"Yes, ma'am," Pargeter said, his brow furrowed in concentration.

"Remember," Gram continued, "keep the pot tightly covered while the infusion steeps. If you can smell the aroma of the tea, then the essential goodness of the herbs is escaping into the air rather than being retained in the liquid."

"Yes, ma'am."

'"Tis a very potent brew, Pargeter." Gram chuckled. "His lordship is not overly fond of it, to be sure. But he must drink it, nevertheless."

"Yes, ma'am. One half cup four times a day."

"That's right," Gram said, smiling. "So, you need only brew enough each morning for one jar. Two large handfuls. Remember that. At least twice the amount you would use for a normal tea. And remember to take the mixture from this particular crock. I will keep it covered with a square of blue muslin, so it should be easy enough to identify."

"Thank you, ma'am," Pargeter said as he eyed the myriad of crocks that filled the room, most covered with white muslin caps tied tightly around the lip. What a somber-faced man he was to be serving such a cheerful gentleman as Lord Sedgewick. "I have no knowledge of herbs myself," he said, "and should hate to make a mistake."

"Do not worry, Pargeter. Just let me know when the mixture runs low so that I can make up another batch."

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

Gram handed him a muslin pouch containing one day's worth of the infusion mixture. He nodded and turned to go. Gram turned back to her worktable.

"Ooomph!"

The strange exclamation caused Gram to swivel around in time to see Pargeter recover from an apparent collision with Mr. Albert Herriot.

"I beg your pardon, sir!" the valet said in an astonished voice.

Mr. Herriot laughed. "No harm done, Pargeter. My fault entirely. Please, do not let me interrupt you."

"I am terribly sorry, sir. Please excuse me." The discomfited valet bobbed his head and backed out of the stillroom.

Mr. Herriot chuckled as he stood in the doorway. "I did not mean to cause any distress, Mrs. Lattimer. Poor Pargeter. He is such a Friday-faced old thing. I do not know how Sedge abides the fellow"

"He seems very competent." She grinned and added, "Though he is a bit glum."

"I hope I am not disturbing you," Mr. Herriot said. "I confess I was exploring a bit and heard voices. What a marvelous stillroom!"

Gram beamed a smile at the genial young man as he walked into the room, his gaze traveling from the herbs and flowers hanging above his head to the shelves of jars and crocks lining the walls. "Do you know something of herbs, Mr. Herriot?"

He laughed. "Not a thing, I'm afraid. I cannot tell a dandelion from a pokeweed. But my mother always kept an herb garden and a small stillroom. Nothing like this, mind you," he said as his arm swept the room in an expansive gesture. "She especially enjoyed making potpourris. Every room in our home was redolent of her dried flowers. Good heavens, but she would have loved this." He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and breathed deeply. "What a delicious combination of fragrances." He opened his eyes and looked all around the room. "By Jove, you have a little bit of everything in here, do you not? You must show me your gardens, Mrs. Lattimer, for I suspect they are impressive indeed."

Gram reached out to pat his arm. "I would be glad to give you a tour, Mr. Herriot. I am rather proud of my herb gardens, though, of course, they are not at their peak of beauty just now. In a few months, though ... well, in any case, they are of only minor significance, after all, compared to the true treasure of Thornhill. The stables are unequaled, you know. A young gentleman like yourself must surely find more of interest in the stables than in the gardens."