Page 35 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
“Excuse me, Lady Penelope,” he bowed before following the already absent lord.
Hurrying after the Earl, he got to the study and had barely pulled it open when the Lord said, “Close it behind you.”
He did and came close to the desk where the Lord was sitting rigidly and the muscle in his cheek was spasming again. “Mr. Moore,” he scrubbed a hand over his face, “the constables were here with Magistrate Kellerton, and they told me something very disturbing about Lord Shirlling. He was an important ally of the Crown with information from France and the war.”
“The war is almost at its end,” Heath said carefully. “Isn’t it?”
“As far we know,” the Earl said. “But the Crown is not exactly reliable when it comes to giving us, the people, any solid knowledge about their affairs in the war. The most we get is watered-down tales about victories and even less about the losses.”
“So…” Heath said quietly, “do they think you had any hand in the Lord’s death?”
“They tried to imply it, but they cannot,” the Earl said staunchly. “My father was a great asset to the Crown with no ties to any anarchistic, anti-government or revolutionary groups. To even hint that I had any prior knowledge of the Lord’s position would be ludicrous and even more, to think I had any traitorous ideation.”
Heath knew there was more to this conversation than discussing Lord Shirlling. “What do you need of me, My Lord.”
“Just…keep a close eye on Lady Penelope,” he said quietly. “Now that there is some measure of scrutiny on us, we need to be transparent in all we do.”
“Should I tell her any of this, My Lord?” Heath said. “I rather think it best if it comes from you.”
“No, no,” he waved. “It will only make her worry too much.”
“But Lady Penelope will suspect something is afoot, My Lord,” Heath said. “Pardon me for overstepping my bounds, but she is very observant and will not take it lightly when she knows you have been hiding this from her.”
His face went tight. “It…it is a risk I will take.”
Heath was about to protest but felt that he had already maximized his length of leniency with the Lord when it came to speaking his mind. “Understood, My Lord.” He then cleared his throat, “I understand Lord Hillbrook is slated to visit Lady Penelope today.”
“Oh…” he frowned lightly, “well, that will be acceptable, wonderful actually. For years, I’d hoped she could bend to see how Russell meant well for her all this time even as he went around it in loops. Just keep an eye on her.”
“If you don’t mind, My Lord,” Heath said evenly. “I think Miss Bell would be best for his visit. I am needed otherwise.”
The Earl nodded absently while reaching for something in his desk, “Of course, of course. Attend to your duties, Mr. Moore. You are dismissed.”
“Good day, My Lord,” Heath bowed and left the room. Lord Allerton did not need to know that Hillbrook would have wanted to see him, Heath, on the other side of the country than be near Lady Penelope.
He went directly to the stocking the hearths in the room with coal, polishing the silver in the key-locked cupboard, making sure the sideboard was in order, and the windows were cleaned. The last thing he needed to do was to take care of the horses, knowing that though Lady Penelope had cared for Bessie already, went to make sure the loved horse was brushed down and had something to eat.
Leaving the stables, he hesitated for a moment ,then went to the spot where the Viscount had been shot. To think that the man has been an Agent of the Crown with secrets that could do the country well. His eyes were down on the patch of grass where he had seen the immobile Viscount with blood on his chest.
His feet pressed against the spot of green and looked around. There were too many advantage points where a gun could have been leveled against the man. What did puzzle him though was why the assassin had left the Earl alive.
Could it be that the shooter—as these days a man or a woman could have done so—had left the Earl alone as he was innocent of it all, or was it that they wanted to implicate him in some way? There was hereditary proof that the Earl was solidly tied to the Crown by his political beliefs and his father’s activities with the government.
The most troubling thought was that an assassin from France had somehow snuck into England and unto the Earl’s land to kill the man. He circled the spot before the gruff country-voice of Brady, one of the gardener’s called out to him.
“Eh, Mr. Moore,” the capped grounds-man greeted him as he came closer but stopped short at the edge of the spot. His grass-stained fingers tugged his hat off and twisted the battered material in his hands. “The lord’s mercies, this place is not a good one. His Lordship, Viscount Shirlling died here.”
Heath nodded as his mind began a line of contemplation. “Yes.”
Something in the peripheral of his mind was niggling at him, prodding him to look again at the place where he had found the Viscount dead. It was true that the shot could have come from anywhere, but again, something niggled at him.
Frowning, he remembered how Lord Masseur’s killed game would look from various lengths of kills. The game that got killed from near had skin and bone blasted apart from the velocity of the bullet, however, the ones that got killed from afar had less injury or broken bones.
Then he remembered how the Viscount had felt under his touch, or rather what he had not felt. He had not felt any shattered bones coming from his chest. The Viscount had not been killed from near.
Spinning, Heath overlooked Brady’s curious look and traced his eyes over the boundary walls and calculated the distance from the far walls to where the Viscount had died. It was over a thousand feet at the shortest points, and one-thousand-and-five-hundred the longest. A bullet’s trajectory would have decelerated and fallen short from that far and for it to be done in that dark…did the shooter have eagle eyes to be so keen?
No. Something else had happened. The bullet had come from somewhere else, somewhere nearer.
