Page 4 of What's a Duke Got to Do With It
The butler was the first to react. “Miss Denby,” Jasper called out in alarm. “Perhaps it’s best if you go back inside. This is no sight for a lady to witness.”
But she could not. No, her horrified gaze remained glued to the supine man below. His eyes were opened wide, staring unseeing up at the inky black sky, his mouth slack, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. But it was not the realization that she was staring down at a dead man that had her frozen in shock. No, it was the man’s very familiar features, features she had seen in her nightmares more than once in the last four years.
Jasper seemed to realize something was amiss. His steely brows drawing low over his eyes, he called out, “Miss, do you know this man?”
It took her some seconds to respond. When she finally did, however, her voice sounded as if it were coming from far away.
“I do,” she managed. “That is Lord Landon. The man who nearly killed my brother.”
Some hours later—truly she didn’t have a clue how many; all she knew was the sun had begun its ascent over the horizon—Katrina found herself seated in Lady Tesh’s private sitting room, a cup of hot tea in her hands, her employer and her dear friends surrounding her. She was certain she would eventually feel a horrible guilt for dragging them all from their beds in the middle of the night. Now, however, she was just glad they were with her.
Especially as the magistrate, Mr. Henrickson, was doing his damnedest to make Katrina feel as if she were somehow responsible for all this.
“You say you knew this Lord Landon?” He peered hard at Katrina. “And yet you do not know why he was attempting to climb into your bedroom?”
Miss Seraphina Athwart, proprietress of the Quayside Circulating Library and one of Katrina’s closest friends, glared at Mr. Henrickson from her place beside Katrina on the low settee. “Just what are you implying, sir?” she demanded, eyes narrowed dangerously behind her wire-rimmed spectacles.
He glared right back. “Miss Athwart, I don’t believe this has anything at all to do with you.” He smirked. “Perhaps it’s best if you went back to your little bookstore and left this to me.”
“It is not alittle bookstore, but the premier circulating library on Synne,” she shot back coldly. Phineas, her ever present green-and-red parrot, glared with equal chill from her shoulder.
“I think what my friend is trying to say,” Miss Adelaide Peacham, owner of the Beakhead Tea Room, cut in with a complacent smile that did not reach her dark eyes, “is that Miss Denby has told you several times she has no idea why Lord Landon was attempting to gain access to her room. She has not seen the man in four years, after all.”
“So she says,” the magistrate drawled, disbelief ripe in his voice.
“Yes, she has said,” Bronwyn, formerly Miss Pickering but recently married and now the Duchess of Buckley, bit out as she looked over her spectacles at the man. “I sincerely hope you are not doubting her word, Mr. Henrickson.”
The magistrate, however, was not the least bit daunted by the possibility of insulting a duchess, if his patronizing glance Bronwyn’s way was any indication.
Blessedly Lady Tesh intervened just then, preventing the situation from getting any uglier. “Mr. Henrickson,” she snapped, bringing her cane down on the floor with a sharp thud lest the man dare try ignoring her, “I do believe you are through here. You can see my companion is overcome and exhausted beyond bearing. Why, she looks as if she is about to faint.”
Katrina blinked. Did she? She had thought she was doing quite a good job at keeping her composure, considering the circumstances.
But a quick jab in the ribs from Seraphina had her realizing what Lady Tesh was attempting to do. Placing her teacup on the low table, she pressed a hand to her forehead and gave a low moan, swaying in her seat.
Mr. Henrickson did not look the least convinced. But what could he do? Especially when Miss Honoria Gadfeld, the vicar’s eldest daughter, rose and shooed him toward the door.
“It was so very kind of you to make certain our dear Miss Denby is well,” she said with a syrupy smile. “I will be certain to tell my father how wonderfully you have handled this whole horrible mess. I am sure I can speak for him when I say God will look well on you for the work you have done here this night.”
“Oh!” Mr. Henrickson looked startled, then pleased as he was hustled toward the door. The man may be a blowhard, but he was a pious blowhard. Or if not pious, at least eager to earn his way into heaven by kowtowing to the local vicar. “Well, you know I do my best, Miss Gadfeld. That I do.”
“Of course you do,” she said complacently. “Do take care returning home; the sun is not quite up yet. And do give our best to your lovely wife.”
Before the man could reply, Honoria pushed him out the door and closed it firmly in his face. She leaned back against it, her pleasant expression disappearing as she rolled her eyes heavenward.
“The blathering idiot,” she mumbled.
“Kinder words than I would have used,” Seraphina muttered darkly.
“Doaty lavvy heid,” Phineas squawked in his strong Scottish brogue, ruffling his feathers in outrage.
“Quite right, my dear,” Seraphina murmured, reaching up to give his neck a scratch. “I could not have said it better myself.”
Katrina, however, was hardly aware of the exchange. The moment the man’s footsteps could no longer be heard she was up and racing across the room to the door that connected into Lady Tesh’s bedchamber. Yanking it open, she dropped to her knees and intercepted Mouse as he came tearing into the room, throwing her arms about him and pressing her face into his warm neck. He wiggled under her, attempting to reach her face so he might bathe it with his lolling tongue, his long tail thrashing to and fro in his joy at being invited into the group once more.
Katrina did not realize anyone had noticed her exit from the group until a soft hand landed on her shoulder and an even softer voice sounded in her ear. The scent of baked goods, Adelaide’s signature perfume, surrounded Katrina like a hug.
“They aren’t going to take Mouse away, Katrina,” her friend said gently.
