Page 67 of Marigold and the Marquess
No, no, no.
Her heart beat faster as she quietly panicked. Leo could not have done this. Still, she had to be sure. “How far is Lord Denby’s residence from here, Mr. Barrow?”
“Oh, about ten minutes by carriage, m’lady. Assuming no delays, but there are always delays on these busy streets.”
“And if one walked? Or rather, if one ran? Cut across gardens and alleyways? Or rode by horse?”
Leo inhaled sharply as he realized what she was asking and why she needed to know. He glowered at her. “You think I did this? That I secretly kept a horse at the ready to gallop there and back? Do I smell as though I have been on a horse?”
Marigold had to admit he did not. “No, Leo.”
In truth, his scent was of musk and maleness, and simply divine.
“Then you believe I ran there, killed him, and sauntered back without breaking into a sweat?”
“Leo, I am not being unreasonable.”
His frown said otherwise. “You were with me all night except for those ten minutes.”
“M’lady,” Mr. Barrow said kindly, “It would take about the same time no matter what method anyone used to get from here to Lord Denby’s home and back. At fastest, ten minutes there and ten minutes return. Plus an added few minutes for committing the crime.”
Marigold’s mind raced.
If true, this would prove Leo’s innocence beyond a doubt because he was with her the entire night, other than those five or ten minutes he was scouting the grounds. She put a hand to her heart as it fluttered in relief.
Of more importance was the fact he was in sight of every other guest attending Lady Gaston’s party. She was sure they all took notice of him, for he was not someone easily overlooked. He was tall. Handsome. Commanding. Indeed, most women had not taken their eyes off him all evening. “Thank goodness,” she said in a whisper.
Leo cast her a sardonic smile. “And here I was looking forward to killing him. What a disappointment.”
“Leo! Do not even joke about such a thing.” She did not bother to hide her irritation.
She noted the blaze in his eyes, and knew despite his attempt at a jest, that it really was no jest for him. He was angry someone had gotten to Denby first.
“What have I missed?” Ian asked, now joining them.
Leo and Mr. Barrow quickly recounted what had happened.
Ian also tossed Leo a glance. “Thank goodness you were here.”
“There is nothing good about it,” Leo grumbled.
Marigold shook her head in disgust. “I cannot believe you are annoyed someone interfered with your quest for vengeance. You ought to be relieved there are one hundred guests who can attest to your presence at this soiree. Otherwise, you would be at the top of everyone’s list of suspects.”
He arched an eyebrow. “Including yours, obviously.”
She blushed. “Yes, I will not deny it.”
He turned to Mr. Barrow. “Who else besides me wanted Denby dead?”
“It is an easier task to figure out who did not wish him dead,” he muttered. “Not even his mother liked him.”
Marigold noticed Ian flinch at that remark.
Perhaps Denby was not the only one with an unhappy family situation.
That particular torment was not one of Leo’s issues. He had spoken kindly of his parents the one time they had come up in conversation, which was a good thing because Leo already had more torments than any man should bear.
Well, she had no time to muse about this now. They needed to figure out whether Denby’s death was related to Leo’s capture and imprisonment or completely unrelated to that horrible incident.
