Page 45 of An Execution, an Earl, and Miss Hughes
Both Sarah and Lucian watched with open curiosity, as she strode across the green to the mead stall, where she came to a halt before Mr Treswell.
The maid leaned to whisper something into Mr Treswell’s ear and the solicitor turned to her with a shocked expression.
“I wonder what’s going on there?” Lucian said, as he began to steer them both toward the pair.
Though his tall frame allowed him push through the crowds with ease, by the time they reached the stall, both Miss Bridges and Mr Treswell had vanished.
“Did you see where the two people here a second ago went?” Lucian asked of a young man sipping reverently on a pint.
“I don’t make a habit of spying on strangers,” the man replied, though as he turned and recognised Lucian, his scoffing expression changed to one of surprise.
“That is, I didn’t see anything, my lord,” he corrected himself, nervously. As he rigidly straightened his posture, Lucian realised the man was none other than the Fawkes’ footman—almost unrecognisable in his civilian attire.
“Never mind,” Lucian batted his apology away with an impatient hand. “You’re just the man I hoped to see.”
“I am?” the footman looked most disappointed by this news. Lucian supposed he did not want his only day-off of the month interrupted by a demanding aristocrat.
“I need to ask you a few questions about Mrs Fawkes,” Lucian said.
The footman shifted nervously from one foot to the other, his expression closed.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware but Mr Leek was murdered last night,” Lucian began but was cut-off as the footman gave a displeased sigh.
“I’m well aware, my lord,” he said, rolling his eyes, “Mrs Fawkes has been roaring and crying hysterically since we heard the news.”
“She has?” Lucian could not help the note of surprise in his voice. He shared a perplexed glance with Miss Hughes, whose confused expression mirrored his own.
“Her and Mr Leek became veryfriendlywhen she redesigned the garden,” the footman said, adding a wink in case Lucian missed his heavy hint.
“I thought it was Mr Hardwick whom Mrs Fawkes was first friendly with?” Lucian questioned.
The footman gave a snort of derision and took another healthy sip from his pint.
“Mr Hardwick had too much sense to dally with the colonel’s wife,” the footman chuckled. “I did warn Mr Leek that if Colonel Fawkes found out he’d have his hide, but he didn’t listen.”
Lucian’s mind whirred as he tried to fit this new information into the puzzle. The suggestion that it was Mr Leek, not Hardwick, who had been Mrs Fawkes’ lover changed the investigation entirely.
“And on the night of Hardwick’s murder?” he asked carefully.
“Mr Leek was visiting with Mrs Fawkes,” the footman said simply.
“Thank you for your help, young man,” Lucian said, taking a coin from his pocket and pressing it into his hand. “Enjoy your day off.”
In silence, he took Sarah’s arm again and steered her away from the stall, his mind racing. When they had gained some distance, he turned to look down at her.
“Well, this changes everything,” she said, looking back at him with eyes as confused as his own.
Lucian offered a short nod. “Let’s walk.”
And so they did; both lost in thought as the noise of the fête carried on around them
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
THE CHAOS OFthe fête carried on around them, but as Sarah walked beside Lord Deverell, she registered little of it. Her mind was crowded with thoughts of Mr Leek, Mr Hardwick, and a suspect list that had dwindled to naught.
Who on earth in Plumpton could have had cause to murder them both?
Now that they had no suspects, a creeping sense of panic took hold; what if the true killer was still walking amongst them, blending in with the bunting and good cheer?
