The Lady By His Side(80)

She met his eyes, then shook her head and looked out at the pristine, wave-washed sands. “There’s no way we can tell and no benefit in speculating. All we can do is what we’re doing—searching everywhere we can think of to at least confirm that the gunpowder is, as far as we can tell, not in Ennis’s house or on his estate. At least, not at this time.”

He thought through her words, then grimly nodded. “You’re right. And if we find no trace here in the next few days, we’ll take what we know back to London and hope Drake’s returned so he can decide where next to search—or what next to do.”

The chestnut shifted. Acting instinctively, she settled the horse, then said, “Would it be better to leave and go back to London immediately?” She met his gaze. “Even if Drake’s not back, you or your father—or Drake’s—could find out who to contact in the Home Office.”

He considered that, then slowly shook his head. “Crawford and Sir Humphrey will hold those at the house party at Pressingstoke Hall as long as they can in the hope of identifying the murderer. Crawford is thorough—there’s a good chance he’ll flush the beggar out. If he does, then assuming we don’t find the gunpowder ourselves, learning the identity of the murderer and all he knows of the plot will be our best route to locating the stuff.”

Elucidating his thoughts aloud confirmed their logic. He glanced at her, saw her agreement in the set of her features, smiled faintly, and turned the gray’s head for the house. “It’s starting to get dark. We’d better get back.”

She nodded and wheeled the chestnut. “And tomorrow we’ll search the northern half of the estate—assuming we don’t ride in and discover that Sir Humphrey and the inspector have the murderer by the collar.”





Chapter 12





They clattered into the stable yard with the shadows deepening and discovered Inspector Crawford seated on the mounting block.

He rose and stretched, then waited while Sebastian dismounted, lifted Antonia down, and the stable lads gathered their reins. As the boys led the horses away, Sebastian and Antonia turned to the inspector.

Crawford tipped his head toward the house. “My lord, my lady—if you would walk with me a little way, I’d like to pick your brains.”

Antonia shot Sebastian a questioning look, but when he just took her hand and wound her arm in his, she fell in beside him.

With Crawford pacing on Sebastian’s other side, they strolled to a point halfway back to the house where the rising slope and a stand of trees combined to screen them from the windows.

Crawford halted and faced them. “I take it your search wasn’t successful.”

“No.” Sebastian’s reply was colored by his frustration. “But we’ve yet to search the northern half of the estate. We’ll do that tomorrow. If we find nothing…we might well have to rely on the murderer for further information.”

Crawford’s brows rose. “Do you think he’ll talk?”

“Eventually.”

Crawford eyed Sebastian’s face for a second, then plainly decided to let that subject go.

“Did you find the money?” Antonia asked. “The three hundred pounds.”

“No.” Crawford glanced at Sebastian. “The search went well enough—we searched all the gents’ rooms and those of the visiting staff, and none of them the wiser, but came up empty-handed.” Crawford looked at Antonia. “So we used your suggestion to get the gents to turn out their pockets, but no one was carrying any roll of banknotes.”

Sebastian grimaced. “It was worth a try.” He paused, then in a more pensive tone added, “So where has the money gone?”

His expression tending grim, Crawford nodded. “I’ve been wondering how much gunpowder is worth.”

“But if the money’s been handed over”—Antonia met Sebastian’s eyes—“doesn’t that mean the gunpowder is here—somewhere near?”

Sebastian’s expression hardened, and he nodded. “Or at least it was. And that line of thinking confirms that the murderer—who must have taken the money from Ennis—is also the person involved in this plot. The person dealing with the gunpowder.” He focused on the inspector. “Are you any closer to identifying the murderer?”

Crawford sighed. “That was why I was waiting for you two. I wanted to discuss with you both”—the inspector included Antonia with his gaze—“the matter of alibis. All the guests have alibis of sorts for Ennis’s murder, but only a few guests have alibis for her ladyship’s murder. Yet the simple truth is that, other than the pair of you and the Featherstonehaughs, none of the other guests can have any reasonable alibi for the second murder—they were all in their beds in their separate rooms, all supposedly alone. So we’re back to focusing on who had the chance—the opportunity—to murder Lord Ennis. Sir Humphrey suggested I run the gentlemen’s alibis past the pair of you in the hope you’ll see something neither of us have.”