Page 41 of The Paid Companion

“So it’s you, sir.” He swallowed heavily and slowly lowered the fork, as though defeated. “I knew ye’d find me sooner or later.”

Arthur walked toward him. “Why did you run off, Watt?”

“You must know the answer to that, sir.” Watt propped the pitchfork against the side of the stall, wiped his forehead with a gritty hand and heaved a massive sigh. “I was afraid you’d think I was the man who murdered Mr. Lancaster.”

“Why would I believe that?”

Watt scowled, confused. “On account of I was the only one in the house with Mr. Lancaster that night.”

“My great-uncle trusted you. So do I. And so does your Bess.”

Watt started. “You’ve talked to Bess?”

“She’s the one who told me that you had changed your name and taken a job here at the livery stable.”

Watt squeezed his eyes shut in pain. “I shouldn’t have told her where I was. But she was so anxious about me that I had to let her know that I was safe. I begged her not to tell anyone. She’s an honest girl, though. I suppose it was too much to ask her to lie for me, especially to you, sir.”

“You must not blame Bess. I had a very long talk with her a short time ago. She loves you with all her heart, and she would have kept your secret if she thought I meant you harm. She certainly didn’t tell anyone else, not even the Runner who questioned her.”

“A Runner questioned her?” Watt was horrified. “Oh, my poor Bess. She must have been scared to death.”

“I’m sure she was. But she did not tell him that she knew where you were. She only confided in me because I convinced her that I believe you are innocent.”

Watt gnawed nervously on his lower lip. “Bess told me that the Runner thinks I’m the one who murdered poor Mr. Lancaster.”

“I let the Runner go after he came to that conclusion. I knew that he was wrong.”

Watt’s eyes crinkled in astonishment. “Why are you so sure it wasn’t me who killed Mr. Lancaster?”

“You forget that I’ve known you for years, Watt. I am well aware that you aren’t the type to turn violent. You are a patient man, slow to anger and steady in your ways.”

Watt blinked a couple of times. “I don’t know how to thank ye, sir.”

“You can thank me,” Arthur said deliberately, “by telling me everything you can about what went on in the days leading up to my great-uncle’s murder, and by recalling for me every single fact concerning the events that occurred on the night of his death.”

An hour later, satisfied that he had learned all he could from Watt, he sent the young man back to his sweetheart and promised him that he and Bess would both be given new posts on one of the Lancaster estates.

His next stop before returning to the mansion in Rain Street was at the home of the elderly man-of-affairs he had inherited from his grandfather.

He found the house hushed and dark. The servants went about with somber faces.

“The doctor says Mr. Ormesby won’t live out the week,” the housekeeper told him, wringing her hands in her apron as she led the way to the bedchamber where her employer lay on his deathbed. “It was kind of ye to come by to say farewell.”

“It was the least I could do,” Arthur said. He took a closer look at the woman and realized that she was getting on in years. This was likely the last post she would be able to obtain. “Did Ormesby arrange for a pension for you?”

Her eyes widened in surprise at the question. “It’s kind of you to ask, sir, but I’m sure he was good enough to remember me in his will. I’ve worked for Mr. Ormesby for going on twenty-seven years.”

Arthur made a mental note to make certain that Ormesby had left his housekeeper enough to allow her to survive her retirement.

Ormesby and the old earl had had a lot in common. Neither of them had been known for their generosity.

Elenora was putting the last of her personal possessions into the trunk when Margaret bustled anxiously into the bedchamber.

“What in heaven’s name is going on here?” Margaret came to a halt in the middle of the room and glared at the trunk as though it were the enemy. “Sally just interrupted me in the middle of a scene that I have been working on for two days to tell me that you are preparing to leave.”

“I’m sorry to say that St. Merryn’s grand scheme has come apart at the seams.”

“I don’t understand.”

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