Page 53 of A Duchess of Mystery

Richard nodded. “I agree. Did you see how relieved she was when she found out what she was being questioned about?”

Atkins nodded, a hint of reproval in his eye and voice. “No doubt she has some other small crime she feared would be discovered, Your Grace. Mrs. Barnes will need to keep a better eye on these girls, I fear. They are inclined to foolish behavior if given half the chance.”

Mrs. Barnes snorted at his tone. “Girls will be girls. I do my best, but it’s not easy. But it’s those handsome young footmen you’ll have to watch, Mr. Atkins. They’re every bit as bad as my girls.” She tutted her tongue. “But at least I don’t have to worry about the duke chasing after the maids any longer.” She glanced at Richard. “Begging your pardon, Your Grace. I don’t mean you, of course.”

Richard smiled. “I know you don’t, and I consider it very flattering that you haven’t classed me with my cousin in that department.”

“Let’s have the next girl in now, shall we?” Atkins said.

The second girl, Betsy, a year younger than Maud and the newest addition to the staff having only been employed for a bare month before Marcus’s death, appeared just as innocent of having been bribed as her fellow parlor maid. She was a more cocky young lady and less inclined to fear, so perhaps she was not hiding any misdemeanor of her own. She answered the questions readily, and departed with a spring in her stride and a peek over her shoulder at Richard. Innocent of the crime, but perhaps not innocent in other ways. A good thing he wasn’t inclined in the same direction as Marcus. This wasn’t the Middle Ages.

That left the three male servants.

Thomas, the underfootman, came in next. He was a handsome young man with a secret he plainly didn’t want divining, that might or might not have had something to do with young Maud. But he too knew nothing about money exchanging hands and had been on duty in the ballroom when Silas Barker had come asking questions in the kitchen on the night of the ball, so had never even crossed paths with him. Of course, he could have been lying, but all four of them concluded that if he were, he must be the best liar any of them had ever met. “And I’ve met a lot of them,” Atkins said, after Thomas had left.

It was looking more and more likely that the culprit was one of the grooms, a fact that Amos seemed inclined to take as a personal insult.

“Can you tell us anything about them?” Richard asked him, before they had Robert go and fetch the first one in.

Amos rubbed his whiskery chin, deep in troubled thought. “I don’t like to think ill of either of them, but young Jack Watkins has been here the shortest time. He only started working six months gone. He seems a good lad and a hard worker, but he’s not quite the full ticket, I’m afraid.” He frowned as though he didn’t want to malign the boy. “A bit slow, you might say. Suggestable. If anyone were to try to get him to agree to something that wasn’t true, I think they might succeed. Probably get him to believe it was true, too, if they told it to him enough times. About the yard I give him one task at a time to do, and he manages, but if I try to give him any kind of list, the lad’s lost.”

Interesting. And if he turned out to be the false witness, his reliability could be easy to call into question due to his slow wittedness. But his poor memory and slow wits might be something that would make him a bad liar for the prosecution.

Well, according to his three companions, whoever had agreed to give evidence was indeed lying, and Richard had no reason not to believe them. They were all adamant no one could have seen what went on that night, and besides which, if anyone had seen anything, they’d have been naming Dora as the murderer, not Isabella. He began to feel more hopeful. “What about the other lad?”

Amos pulled a wry expression. “Jem’s the older of the two and been here longest. A couple of years now. He’s a lad from one of the tenant farms, which is where he used to work. His pa’s been ill this last year or more, and Jem’s older brother’s running the farm. From what the lad’s told me, all his wages go back to his ma and brother to help keep the farm afloat.” He paused as if reflecting. “Bit of an eye for the ladies, I’ve noticed, and he’s a sight better looking than young Jack, and about five times cleverer. Might be him that lass Maud’s been philandering with, if it ain’t young Thomas. If she’s been up to anything, that is.”

“If she has, she’ll be in trouble,” Mrs. Barnes put in.

Atkins sighed. “Both of them sound possible.”

Mrs. Barnes nodded. “That lad Jem’s been hanging around Nellie the kitchen maid too. Got too much of a wandering eye, that one. Likes all the girls. I’ve warned him off more than once but he’s got perseverance, I’ll give him that. And I’ve overheard him moan that he never has any money because he has to give it all to his family.” She shook her head. “That’s never good for a lad his age. He needs a bit to spend on a girl. He might well have been swayed in return for money.”

“Let’s see Jem first then,” Richard said. “My instinct is telling me he’s our best bet if the other boy is a bit simple.”

Robert was dispatched to fetch Jem to the study.

He arrived, cap in hand, a big, blustering, confident youth with rough good looks any housemaid or kitchen maid might fancy. Richard had seen him about the stableyard. It was he who’d been eyeing Isabella. That was enough to raise his hackles, but he shouldn’t hold that against him. Noticing how beautiful Isabella was didn’t mean the man was guilty of anything else, or he, Richard, might have to accuse himself.

“Jem, isn’t it?” Richard said, keeping his voice level and noncommittal. “Sit down.”

Jem seemed unfazed at having to face his lord and master. “Yes, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Grace.” He sat down, an altogether more relaxed individual than even young Betsy. A bit overly confident. Money in one’s pocket could do that to a lad, as Richard well knew. Jem reminded him of one or two of his own riflemen after payday shenanigans.

He studied the young groom in silence for a few moments, weighing him up. He couldn’t be much more than twenty, so would have been a baby when Richard left to join his first regiment. That in itself made Richard feel old. “We have a few questions to ask of you, Jem. We’re asking them of everyone.” Best not to let him feel singled out, as that might put him on the defensive.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Despite his apparent politeness, a current of rebellion underlay his words. This was a young man who didn’t like to doff his cap to authority. Richard had met enough young men like this during his time in the army. A few years as a soldier would do Jem a lot of good. If he turned out to be the guilty party, that was where they would send him. Off to take the king’s shilling.

“Good,” Richard said. “We’d like to know if anyone came asking you questions on the night of the ball.”

Jem might be overly confident, but he was not practiced at hiding things. He would have been terrible at playing cards. “I don’t think so,” he said, after a telltale momentary pause.

“Are you sure?” Atkins asked. “Others have told us that someone did. All of them have told the same story of a servant from another house come asking impertinent questions.”

Richard kept his eyes fixed on the lad.

Jem’s eyes darted to left and right, the bluster evaporated. He had the appearance of a man who would like to leap up and flee. “Now I recall,” he said in a hurry. “I’d forgot. Some man from one of the carriages—a groom, I think—he came and chatted to us in the stableyard. Bit over friendly, I thought.” A glisten of sweat had formed on his forehead.

He’d clearly decided that he would have to come clean about Barker’s presence, but not give away too much. In his lap, his hands had clenched in fists, the knuckles whitened.