Page 69 of The Case of the Curate

Rupert was desperate to stretch his legs by walking—even running—but he had to understand what had happened to Kate, what danger she had been in when she returned from visiting him in his prison. What danger she was still in…

So he gulped in some of the heady air and climbed into the carriage after Kate. He sat on the back-facing seat, opposite her, and Lord Chadbon chose to sit beside her. Not for the first time, Rupert wondered at the relationship between them. Chadbon was something of a puppeteer, manipulating his minions to his bidding. Remington would never have arrested Rupert without at least Chadbon’s approval, if not his instruction. Likewise, Rupert had only been released because of Chadbon. Because someone had shot at Kate. Clearly, Chadbon needed Kate. Or Kate’s husband.

Had Kate manipulated the puppeteer?

“In what way was it hard to tell?” Rupert asked, before either of the pair opposite could change the subject.

Chadbon blinked, clearly baffled, but Kate knew at once what he meant.

“I didn’t see where the shot came from,” she said. “It could have been from a window of the house, or it could have been someone outside in any direction.”

“But you bent down, without lowering your lantern,” Chadbon said. “That must have been what saved your life.”

Dear God… Rupert had prayed the shooting was a story she’d made up to prove his innocence. Except that he knew why she’d bent down. There were gravel paths all around the house at Chadbon Court, and she’d thrown enough of the stuff at his bedchamber windows in the past. He understand perfectly that she’d meant to summon her maid, the loyal Grissy, in similar fashion.

“I don’t understand this,” Chadbon said, almost plaintively. “Who can be doing such things? And always on my grounds, right outside my house. It must be stopped, and yet I have no idea how.”

Rupert regarded him. The man was clearly upset, though whether by the outrage of hovering scandal or actual murder, Rupert could not tell. Both, possibly.

“Will you allow me to help?” he asked.

Chadbon’s eyes widened. “You?”

“I went to school. I can exercise my brain when pushed.”

Chadbon flushed. “I do not doubt your intelligence, Grande. But you have little reason to help me.”

Rupert gazed out of the window. They were approaching Chadleigh. “Dinah was a friend of mine. So is Lady Ambrose. And I still don’t like death.”

If Chadbon was appalled by his lumping of the housemaid and Lady Ambrose together, he gave no sign other than silence. After a few minutes as the carriage began to rumble into the village, he said in a rush, “I’m afraid I suggested to Bancroft that you’d been called away urgently on family matters. I didn’t want to upset him with the truth or tarnish your name.”

“How thoughtful,” Rupert said. “So, do I have your permission to investigate this matter before someone else dies?”

He didn’t need Chadbon’s agreement, and they both knew it.

His Lordship winced. “I have emphasized to Lady Ambrose the need for discretion.”

“Don’t you think we are beyond that? If Lady Ambrose is murdered in your house—”

“Sir, you go too far!” Chadbon exclaimed.

“No, he is quite right,” Kate intervened. “Discretion must give way to urgency.”

Chadbon shuddered. Clearly, he could see no good options here. “At least let us deal with it as quietly as possible.”

“As possible,” Rupert repeated, as the horses pulled up at the vicarage front gate. He got up and opened the carriage door, pausing only to glance back at Kate. The danger she was in terrified him. “Be vigilant,” he said awkwardly, because in front of Chadbon, he could say no more.

Chapter Fourteen

Chadbon’s comfortable, successful life seemed to have turned into an ongoing nightmare that he could never quite wake up from. The maid’s murder had changed the nature of his cozy little gathering intended to further the popularity of his wing of the party, and his own power within it, into a massive problem. And just when he had congratulated himself on solving it with the curate’s quiet arrest and the discreet handling of the crime within the law, a much more dangerous scandal threatened to erupt.

Kate Ambrose was the wife of a prominent member of Parliament, the daughter of a well-connected baron. If anything happened to her on Chadbon’s property, quite aside from the fact that she was a distinct asset… Well, the consequences were too dire to contemplate.

He should never have allowed her to poke into the matter. And yet if she had not, the wrong man would have been turned over to the assizes. If that had got into the newspapers…

“How long has Kemp worked for you?” Lady Ambrose asked him as the carriage rounded the square and took the road to Chadbon Court.

“Kemp? Oh, decades. Since my father’s day. Why?”