As accustomed to the ways of large houses as he, she nodded. “Blanchard would have ordered it lit while dinner was being served.”
“Exactly. So that envelope couldn’t have been fed to the flames until after dinner—which means by either Ennis or his murderer.”
“By which, I take it, we can infer that the name of the person for whom the three hundred pounds was intended was, in fact, the murderer.”
Sebastian stared at the envelope for a second more, then met Antonia’s gray eyes. “We should take this to Crawford and Sir Humphrey immediately. Three hundred pounds is a large amount for any man to carry in notes.”
Her lips firmed. “Thinking himself safe, the murderer might still have the money on him or have hidden it in his bags.”
They found Sir Humphrey and the inspector just finishing their interview of one of the footmen. On seeing their faces, Crawford wound up the interview, got to his feet, and sent the footman on his way.
The instant the door closed, Sir Humphrey, who had also risen, said, “You’ve found something?”
Sebastian waved Antonia forward. He let her explain how she’d found the envelope and its significance—and what he and she thought the inspector’s next step ought to be.
Crawford was eager, but he turned to Sir Humphrey. “A search will cause a ruckus.”
Sir Humphrey glanced inquiringly at Sebastian. “Only if they know.”
Sebastian’s smile was intent. “They’ve all gone shooting. You can search their rooms now.”
“And if you don’t find anything,” Antonia said, all the hauteur at her command on show, “make them turn out their pockets when they come in—in the gun room, before any of them have a chance to go upstairs.”
Again, Crawford glanced at Sir Humphrey. “They’ll squeal.”
“Not”—Antonia slanted a glance at Sebastian—“if you tell them it’s to eliminate them as suspects, and that Earith has already complied.”
Sebastian promptly started emptying his pockets onto the desk’s blotter, starting with the three very important letters he was carrying. “And you have my permission to search my room—and indeed, you should also search the rooms of all the visiting staff, maids as well as valets.”
“Yes, and you have my permission to search my room, too.” Antonia held her arms out to either side. “As is obvious, I have no pockets in this gown that could hold three hundred pounds.”
The bodice of her walking dress was a very snug fit.
Instinctively, Crawford had run his gaze down her figure; abruptly, he realized what he’d done and looked down at the desk as a wash of color crept into his cheeks. He gruffly cleared his throat. “As you say, my lady.” Then he glanced at Sir Humphrey. “Shall we?”
“Why not?” Sir Humphrey looked almost belligerent. “This is a murder investigation, after all, and Lady Antonia and Earith have just cleared the way for us.”
“That’s it.” Sebastian patted his pockets, demonstrating that they were empty.
Antonia glanced at the items piled on the blotter and fought to hide a grin. The expensive pocket watch, engraved silver billfold, heavy silver card case, coin purse, fine embroidered handkerchief, notecase, and silver capped pencil were to be expected, along with the silver hip flask and the three letters, but the two pieces of string, several crumpled notes, a short section of candle plus a box of Congreve matches, a button, a lady’s ornamental buckle, and a pebble—river-washed to smoothness—were more appropriate to a boy’s pockets.
She knew he had a habit of slipping random things into his pockets; she’d always assumed he later discarded them. She felt his gaze touch her face as he reached for the pile—as his hand closed over that river-washed pebble, hiding it from her sight.
Abruptly, memory seized her and jerked her back into their long-ago past.
That pebble came from the Lambourn, the river that flowed past her family home. He’d picked it from her hair when, on one hot summer’s day, along with his siblings and several of his cousins, all of whom had been visiting, he and she had gone down to the banks of the river, and during a game, she’d fallen in.
The river had been deep where she’d entered it, but as the season was mid-summer, the currents had been flowing lazily, and like all the group, she could swim. She hadn’t been in any danger, yet Sebastian had immediately dived in, swum to her, seized her, and hauled her to shore.
They’d come to the bank farther along the river, screened from the others by an outcrop.
She’d waded out alongside him. But once they’d reached solid ground, he’d narrowed his green eyes at her and lambasted her for her carelessness. During his tirade, he’d reached out and plucked that pebble from her hair.