Page 50 of Evidence of Evil
“What a lovely animal,” said Constance, who knew very little about horses, pausing to stroke the nose of the horse being groomed.
“That he is, ma’am,” the groom agreed, regarding her with curiosity. “Can I help you?”
“Mr. Niall said I might come and see the horses,” Constance lied, “since I miss my own so much. I should speak to the head groom, should I not? Godden, is it?”
“Lance!” the groom called, and a tall, handsome fellow in an unexpectedly white shirt and leather waistcoat swaggered out from the stable building.
Constance felt a ripple of excitement—not because of the man’s undeniable physical attractions, but because she recognized that he might well have appealed to the dead woman she was beginning to understand. He was strong and dark and confident in his body. And he was undoubtedly forbidden fruit in a way even a married man of her own class was not.
Constance went to meet him. “You are Godden, the head groom?” she said. “I’m Mrs. Grey, a guest of Lady Maule over at The Willows. Mr. Niall says you would tell me about the horses here and which might make a suitable lady’s mount.”
“Did he?” Godden looked amused, his roving eye definitely roving. “He never mentioned any such thing to me.”
“I expect he forgot,” Constance said.
“I expect he did.” The man’s eyes were positively gleaming now with the knowledge that Constance had sought him out with such a feeble excuse. He probably imagined she had glimpsed him from a distance and fallen into instant lust. Time to disabuse him of that notion.
“He has a lot on his mind just now, poor man,” she said. “Which is the real reason I wish to speak to you. Walk with me.”
His expression changed as he recognized her tone of authority. Obediently, he walked beside her back toward the stable doors. Listening, Constance could hear no signs of activity within, except the horses themselves shifting on their feet. At the far end, from where Godden had emerged, she could hear voices—the other grooms enjoying a well-deserved break from their duties. Good. She would not be overheard.
She paused to pet the nose of the first horse.
“Careful,” Godden said. “She’ll nudge you so hard for apples that she’ll knock you over.”
Constance, who had come prepared, drew a quarter of an apple from her pocket and let the mare take it from her palm while she kept her gaze on the head groom. “Tell me about Miss Frances.”
“Nothing to tell,” Godden said stolidly. “Which I already told the police.”
“What did they ask you?”
“If I ever accompanied her when she rode out.”
“Did you?”
“Once or twice. I told them that too.”
“Where did she go?”
Godden shrugged. “Different places. She wasn’t much interested in scenery or in horses, truth to tell. Just liked the fresh air.”
“Did she ever meet anyone when she was out?”
Godden sighed. “Perhaps I can save you some time, ma’am. She never went on any assignations, never rode to The Willows, or met Sir Humphrey nor anyone else outside. At least, not while I was with her.”
“Is that what the police inspector asked you?”
“And what I told him. Which is the truth.”
“I’m very glad to hear it,” Constance said honestly. With luck, it had deflected the detectives away from suspicion of Elizabeth. She moved on to the next horse, offering another piece of apple. “And when you rode out with her, did she always behave as a lady ought?”
“Of course.”
Constance blinked as though surprised. “You mean she never flirted? Not even with a handsome fellow like yourself?”
His smile was a little crooked. “Well, if she did, she did no more.”
“Should I believe you?” Constance asked.
