Quite aside from the bloody furrow above his left elbow that Mrs. Parrish had described, there was now a gaping, still sluggishly seeping hole in the left side of his chest.
Sebastian eased out a slow breath.
Antonia tightened her grip on his hand, and he squeezed her fingers.
All the other men joined them. Everyone stood silently looking down on what remained of Connell Boyne.
Then Antonia murmured, “He came here to meet someone—a meeting arranged beforehand. Connell expected to leave—to get away—with whoever he met—that’s why he let his horse go.” The other men glanced at her curiously; they didn’t know anything about the motives behind the murders, about Connell’s involvement in a serious plot.
“Yes.” His expression like stone, Crawford nodded. “But whoever he met killed him instead.”
A breeze stirred the last of the autumn leaves still clinging to the branches, setting up a dry, rustling susurration. The mist was thickening, lending a ghostly aura to the scene.
Sebastian stirred. “Dead men can’t talk.”
He glanced at Antonia, then at Sir Humphrey and Crawford. “Lady Antonia and I have to return to London.”
Chapter 15
In what felt like an omen, the city’s bells were tolling ten o’clock when Sebastian drew his grays to a stamping halt outside St. Ives House.
Wilkins leapt down to the pavement, rushed up the steps and plied the knocker, then returned to assist Beccy to the ground before running to hold the horses’ heads.
Sebastian stepped down, surrendered the reins to the young groom in St. Ives livery who came pelting up the area steps, then went to the phaeton’s side and handed Antonia down.
“Beccy.” Safely on the pavement, Antonia turned to her maid. “We’ll be spending the night at St. Ives House. The marquess and I have business to attend to which is likely to keep us out very late—you don’t need to wait up.”
Beccy bobbed a curtsy. “Yes, miss.” As she straightened, she asked, “Should I unpack your things?”
“Just what I need for the night.” Antonia glanced at Sebastian.
He briefly met her gaze, then looked over Beccy’s head at Wilkins, who nodded. Despite the rush of leaving Pressingstoke Hall, Sebastian had found time to instruct Wilkins to tell the St. Ives housekeeper to put Antonia in the room next to his.
He reached for her arm, linked it with his, and turned her along the street. “Let’s see if fortune has elected to favor us, and Drake’s at home.”
He—and, he felt sure, Antonia, too—fervently hoped Drake had returned from Ireland. To him, her, Sir Humphrey, and Inspector Crawford, the manner of Connell Boyne’s slaying had underscored the seriousness of the plot in which Boyne had—clearly—played his part. That, and ten hundredweight of gunpowder, tended to focus the mind wonderfully.
After finding Boyne dead, with Sir Humphrey’s and Crawford’s blessings, Sebastian and Antonia had immediately left the coppice and ridden hell for leather back to the house. They’d flung themselves into a flurry of packing, dallied only long enough for Antonia to farewell her friends and assure them that Hadley would explain all when he returned, then she and Sebastian had climbed into the phaeton, and he’d driven them back to town in record time.
Wolverstone House was a hundred yards farther along the north side of Grosvenor Square. Sebastian escorted Antonia up the steps, then wielded the knocker.
Light could be seen through the transom window; when the butler, Hamilton, opened the door, they saw the front hall was fully lit.
Hamilton recognized them instantly; before they could say anything, he bowed. “Lord Earith. My lady.” He smoothly stepped back and waved them inside.
Surmising that Drake had mentioned they might arrive, with his hand at Antonia’s back, Sebastian ushered her inside. Immediately Hamilton closed the door, Sebastian asked, “I take it the marquess is at home.”
“Indeed, sir.” Hamilton reached for Antonia’s cloak. “He arrived not fifteen minutes ago and is presently bathing. He said you might call, and that if you did, the matter would be urgent.” He relieved Antonia of her bonnet as well, then accepted the greatcoat Sebastian shrugged off. “I will inform his lordship of your arrival immediately.”
“Thank you. Please confirm that the matter is, indeed, urgent. Oh, and Hamilton?”
“Yes, my lord?”
“Is there any chance of something to eat? We’ve driven direct from the Kent coast and haven’t eaten since an early lunch.”
Hamilton looked pleased; the man was known to thrive on domestic challenges. “Of course, my lord. If you and Lady Antonia will make yourselves comfortable in the drawing room, I will arrange for a suitable repast to be served momentarily.”