“It’s been ten,” Levi muttered, walking to the open study door and peering around the side at the men carting Miss Drummond’s corpse toward a waiting bier.
Mr. Hughes flung down his quill, smudging his notes. “Have you no compassion?”
“For the man who caused my fiancée to flee her brother’s home and hide her identity in search of safety?” Levi twisted around. “Not a drop.”
“She’s afraid of him?” Mr. Hughes asked, collecting his quill and dipping it into the ink pot.
“Terrified.” Levi strode toward the desk. “Her brother arranged the match. However, he couldn’t end it for fear Miss Braddock would be arrested for theft.”
“Theft? What did she steal?”
My father’s ring. My heart. My soul.
“Mr. Drummond refused her attempt to return a family ring. When he made it clear that he’d never end their connection, she sold the ring and ran.” Levi dragged a hand through his hair. “I’ll pay the cost, whatever he claims it to be, to free her from that obligation.”
“I’m certain Mr. Braddock will confirm your story,” said Mr. Hughes. “However, the word of an admitted murderer won’t hold much weight.”
Levi slapped his hand—and the piece of lace—on the desk. “He didn’t kill Miss Drummond.”
“What’s this?” Mr. Hughes poked the lace with the tip of his quill.
“I discovered it on the second-floor landing near the banister.”
“The location from where Miss Drummond fell.” His tongue trapped between his teeth, Mr. Hughes picked up the scrap. “And you assume this belonged to the person—woman—who pushed her… Why didn’t you share this earlier? It would have prevented Mr. Braddock from visiting prison this evening.”
“Mr. Braddock feared he knew the identity of Miss Drummond’s killer… his sister.” Levi sat in a chair in front of the desk and leaned forward. “Miss Drummond demanded money and jewelry from Miss Braddock in exchange for not informing her brother where to find his missing fiancée.”
“Jewelry?” Mr. Hughes tilted his head. “Such as watch fobs.”
Intelligent. One of the reasons Mr. Hughes had held the position of parish constable for more than twenty years.
Levi nodded. “Exactly that kind.”
“Hmm… I hear a motive.”
“Eveline didn’t kill Miss Drummond.”
Mr. Hughes’ eyebrows lifted. “Do you have evidence of this statement?”
“No.” He hated admitting the fact. “However, the woman whose gown matches that lace is still in this house. We can speak with Miss Braddock and discount her first.”
“Your Grace!” Miss Sinclair darted through the doorway, her wide brown eyes frantically searching the study for him.
“Miss Sinclair?” Levi rose, the nagging sensation spiking. “Has something occurred?”
“I’m concerned about Miss Braddock.” Tightening her shawl, she hurried across the floor. “About ten minutes ago, I left her in the hallway with a man who seemed to cause her great fear.”
Levi exchanged a look with Mr. Hughes. “Did the man have dark hair and a large stature?”
Please say no.
“Yes! Do you know him?”
Dear Lord. He already had her.
Levi’s heart stopped. “That was Humphrey Drummond, Miss Drummond’s brother.”
“Oh!” Miss Sinclair’s hands flew to her mouth, and she paled significantly. “There was a bruise on Miss Braddock’s cheek. Do you think he blamed her for his sister’s death and caused that injury?”
