Page 84 of The Vagabond Viscount
“Thank you. Yes, I understand about the stitches. Unfortunately, this is not my first knife wound,” replied Flynn. He gave a half laugh, then winced. “And I won’t be making any sudden movements, rest assured.”
The Duchess and Lord Stephen accompanied the doctor out of the room. Augusta got slowly to her feet and made her way over to her husband. She stopped by the bedside. “I swear you have been sent to try me, Flynn Cadnam.”
He offered her a grin. “I know, but I don’t mean to. It just seems to happen.”
Augusta pulled up a chair and sat. The day had started off so bright and full of hope, now she had no idea what was to come next. “Christopher told us your father is dead.”
Flynn sighed. “Yes. I have far too much to live for, so when it came down to it being a case of either him or me who died, the choice was obvious. He got a couple of blows in, including the blade that tore my brand-new shirt to shreds; damn him. I really liked that shirt.”
She wanted so much to laugh at his jest, but this was all too close to the pain that she had endured in the months that she had thought Flynn dead. “You fought for your life. For our future. No one can blame you for what you did.”
He reached out, and they joined hands.
“I told Mama about the baby. That’s why the doctor arrived so quickly. He had already been called for me,” she explained.
“Ah, now I understand. I couldn’t figure out how he managed to get here so soon. I am pleased that he did. This cut might not have hit anything major, but blade and flesh still don’t mix well.”
Augusta bowed her head. She was already emotional with the baby, but Flynn’s injuries made her want to cry her heart out. “What will happen now? I mean with your father’s death. You are now Earl Bramshaw.”
“I have no idea. This isn’t the way I wanted things to end with him, but somehow, I sensed it was always going to happen. As for the titleit’s the least of my concerns.
* * *
He wasn’t dead, and that was a blessing he gave thanks for many times over during the next hours and into the following day. Flynn remained in Augusta’s bed, while she slept in Victoria’s. Her sister kindly decamped to Lady Coco’s bedroom, where a second bed was hastily set up.
In the middle of the night, he woke to find Augusta seated on the chair beside the bed. Her head was in her arms, which were resting on the edge of the mattress. She was fast asleep. He thought to wake her and tell her to go back to bed, but seeing that she was breathing deeply in slumber, Flynn decided to let his wife be. She needed her sleep.
You have been through enough.
The morning brought the authorities, and questions. His Uncle Charles sat listening while Flynn went through his side of the story. Of what had happened from the moment he and Christopher had entered Bramshaw House, to the last few minutes when he had been carried out to the town carriage owned by the Duke of Mowbray.
There was a good deal of hums and furious notetaking on the part of the examiners. What he had assumed was a clear-cut case of self-defense clearly wasn’t viewed in the same manner by those investigating the death of the late Earl Bramshaw. He could only hope the testimony from Christopher was viewed as solid.
As for the staff at Bramshaw House, their evidence may well prove crucial to his future. Where their loyalties lay was, however, a matter for conjecture. From what Flynn understood, they had remained silent during the inquiry over his disappearance, and he was worried that they might see this as the perfect opportunity to finally be rid of him. To have any evidence that might incriminate them in his assault and abduction buried once and for all.
I expect there are one or two of them who would do that in order to save themselves.
“Thank you, Lord Bramshaw. We will finish taking statements from the rest of the household staff at Bramshaw House this morning. Your cousin, Christopher Cadnam, has given his version of events. Now the matter will be handed to the courts to decide if there are sufficient grounds for you to answer any case over the death of your father,” said the lead investigator, closing up his notebook and rising. He and his junior assistant left the room.
Charles took up the seat recently vacated by the investigator. “I can’t believe they actually insisted on questioning you while you are injured,” he huffed.
It was good to have people like his uncle on his side. Flynn was going through yet another of his life’s misfortunes, but this time he wasn’t alone. He wasn’t at risk of being tossed into the sea, nor was he sleeping rough under a bridge.
“They have a job to do. Justice must not only be served but seen to be done.” He reached out to his uncle. “Could I ask a favor? Would you please find Augusta and see how she is? I’m worried about her. She is with child.”
A smiling but pensive Charles nodded. “Of course, I shall go and find Augusta. I am so relieved to know that you are going to recover. And a baby, gosh.”
Flynn closed his eyes the minute Charles left the room. He intended to take a short nap, but when he opened his eyes, it was dark outside. He’d slept the afternoon away.
“Come in,” he replied to the knock which came at the door. Augusta, the Duke and Duchess of Mowbray, Charles, and several other gentlemen all filed slowly into the room. There was a sense of doom in their every footstep.
“These gentlemen wish to speak to you,” said the duke.
Flynn’s gaze tracked Augusta’s progress to the other side of the room. When the Duchess of Mowbray took hold of her hand, his heart sank. If this meeting was a mere formality, his wife and mother-in-law wouldn’t be keeping their distance. He took a deep breath and faced the strangers. “Yes?”
A piece of paper was produced, and one of the men read from it. Flynn caught most of it. “On this day of our Lord.” “Did feloniously, willfully.”
The word which did land hard in his mind wasmurder.
