Sebastian leapt to the bellpull and yanked hard three times, then he lifted the heavy chair, set it aside, and crouched in its place beside Ennis. Even from his first rushed glance, Sebastian knew Ennis was done for; his lordship’s eyes were closed, but, this close, Sebastian could just hear the man’s shallow breathing. “Ennis? Who did this?”
Surely the most important question.
At the sound of his voice, Ennis rallied. He opened his eyes, then fractionally shook his head. He shifted his outflung arm, raised that hand, and gripped Sebastian’s wrist.
Ennis tensed, plainly fighting for breath.
Sebastian leaned nearer.
Ennis’s mouth worked. His lips moved. “Gunpowder.” The word was a thready gasp. Ennis gripped Sebastian’s wrist as if to draw strength from him and forced out, “Here.”
The effort was too much. Ennis’s eyes lost focus, then his lids fell, and all tension left his body. At the last, his fingers relaxed, and his hand fell limply from Sebastian’s wrist to the floor.
Sebastian closed his eyes. He hung his head for a moment, then, slowly, he rose.
A sudden rush of footsteps sounded in the corridor. Blanchard pushed the door wide and raced in.
He saw Sebastian and pulled up short. “My lord?”
Blanchard glanced around, clearly expecting to see his master.
His face like stone, Sebastian gestured to the figure at his feet. “I was to meet with Lord Ennis at ten o’clock. I arrived to find the door ajar and your master…” Sebastian looked at the body on the floor.
Blanchard came around the desk. The butler’s eyes grew huge. “Oh, my good Lord.”
“Indeed. I found his lordship lying there dead—murdered.” Sebastian glanced at Blanchard, who was now chalk white. “Who is the local magistrate?”
Without looking away from the body, Blanchard answered, “Sir Humphrey Rattle, my lord.”
Sebastian drew in a not-quite-steady breath. “I suggest you leave a footman on guard in this room, put another at the door to keep everyone away, and send for Sir Humphrey immediately.”
Blanchard drew in a deep breath and straightened. He nodded. “Indeed, my lord.” Then Blanchard looked suspiciously at Sebastian. “And you, my lord?”
“I,” said Sebastian, most unwillingly, “will break the news to the others.” He thought, then added, “Please summon everyone to the drawing room. I’m sure Sir Humphrey will prefer us all to be together in one place when he arrives.”
Chapter 5
Shock was never a pleasant experience. Sebastian had seen dead men—even murdered men—before. He’d killed three himself in the furtherance of one or other of Drake’s missions, but they’d been villains and not men he knew.
Finding Ennis dying, stabbed in his own study, had been an experience of a different caliber.
Despite having drunk a cup of tea followed by a large brandy, he still felt chilled and was grateful for Antonia’s soft warmth close beside him as they sat on one of the smaller sofas in the drawing room.
The members of the house party had dutifully congregated, summoned by Blanchard and the footmen with the message that there was some serious news Sebastian had to impart to them. Once they’d all assembled, he’d told them of Ennis’s death; for Cecilia’s sake, he’d been as gentle and as vague as possible.
Cecilia now sat huddled between Mrs. Parrish and Mrs. McGibbin, weeping quietly; Sebastian judged her to be shocked and truly grieving. He could see no reason for Cecilia to have murdered her husband; despite her affairs—and Ennis’s—they’d been sincerely attached in the way of couples who rub along well enough together, and who had made a life and had children together. Although desire might have waned, affection had remained.
The other guests sat in small groups around the room; most still looked stunned. He’d told them the magistrate had been sent for and that it would be best for them to await Sir Humphrey’s arrival, rather than retire. Blanchard had advised that Sir Humphrey lived less than fifteen minutes away and would most likely ride to the Hall.
Over the soft sound of Cecilia’s weeping, the guests exchanged comments in hushed tones.
Sebastian scanned the faces, wondering which of them, if any, was the murderer. Despite the apparent message of the open window, he was disinclined to believe that the murderer came from outside the house—not with the way Ennis had been behaving.
Someone presently under Ennis’s roof had murdered his lordship.
Why wasn’t quite so clear.
Sebastian glanced at Antonia. Other than an initial “Oh, no!” she’d said nothing, just sat beside him and offered wordless support. He studied her face; her complexion was paler than usual, but her eyes were clear as they moved from face to face around the company.