Page 10 of Long Live the Baron
So the street-tough Briggs, a humble runner, was fumbling for the correct forms of address given these fresh circumstances.
“That is correct,” Halmesbury responded, his deep voice firm and comforting. Brendan had still to gather his wits fully from finding the old man dead, so it was a relief to have the duke taking charge.
“And where was Mr. Rid—his lordship—the night before?”
The duke raised an enormous fist to cough uncomfortably into it. Richard noted the pause and interjected, “His lordship was with a friend overnight. A lady friend.”
“Will she be able to confirm his whereabouts?”
Both Halmesbury and Richard glanced back at Brendan, still slumped in his chair. He shook his head in response.
“That will not be possible.”
“Did any of the servants witness him arriving back this morning?”
All three men looked back at Brendan. He nodded. Soughing deeply, he spoke in a heavy tone. “I did not pay attention to who let me in the front door in my haste. I simply ran in without noting it, but it must be the butler or one of the footmen who let me in.”
Briggs nodded, revealing a small scar over his right brow when his lank locks fell back. He had a thin face with a thick mustache that reminded Brendan of the stable master back in Somerset. “I shall question the servants and find someone to confirm your arrival, milord.”
“Will that be sufficient to clear his lordship?” The duke’s question made Brendan stiffen. It had been foremost on his mind since finding the baron on the floor.
Briggs stroked his mustache thoughtfully. “It might be, but I recommend speaking to the woman to persuade her to confirm his lordship’s presence. It’s not I, but the coroner who must be convinced.”
Brendan grimaced. His affair with Lady Slight was not formed on the basis of her philanthropic nature. Rather, it was her talents in bed that lured her paramours. The notion that Harriet would confirm his evening at her home was inconceivable.
As it stood, both Halmesbury and Richard had displayed fleeting distaste when he recounted the events of the evening but refused to reveal the lady’s identity. Brendan could not blame them for it, but their respective states of condescending marital bliss in the face of his goings-on had never been so annoying as it had been while waiting for the runner to arrive.
“Is he likely to suspect his lordship?” queried Richard, causing Brendan to straighten in his chair so he could lean forward to hear the runner’s response.
The runner tugged at his mustache with an uncomfortable expression, staring down at his notebook for several moments before reluctantly replying. “Arnold Grimes is new to his post, but he strikes me as an ambitious man. It would be in his lordship’s interests to address any suspicions quickly, and an alibi would be greatly in his favor.”
Silence descended. The only sound was the ticking of the clock on the library table, which was darkened with the patina of decades of service. It was positively medieval in appearance. Finally, Richard sighed. “Thank you for your candor, Briggs.”
“The baron has been dead for hours, and it is obvious to me that Mr. Ridley has been out, given his state of dress. If it were up to me, I would want to know who might have visited the baron last evening.”
“But it is not up to you?” Brendan had never dealt with the authorities before, so he did not have a clear understanding of what the procedure would be.
Briggs looked over at him, an expression of sympathy on his weathered face. He shook his head. “I’m ’fraid not. The coroner is the final authority.”
Brendan rubbed his temples, slumping back into the embrace of the library chair.
* * *
The countess’sfootman released Lily’s gloved hand after helping her from the carriage, stepping back politely as she followed her cousin to the painted front door. A small brass plaque declared it to be Ridley House.
It was her first time visiting the townhouse, having had no reason to meet the unmarried man in his home before. As a debutante, Lily did not get out very much. She went to social functions with her mama in attendance, and occasionally she went to Hatchards with Sophia or to her home.
A bachelor’s residence, even if a grand family townhouse, was strictly forbidden. A thrill at this unexpected departure from the norm ran through her like a hot shiver. Despite the somber circumstances, this was the most excitement she had experienced since her cousin had married the year before, after a nefarious kidnapping attempt in the Abbotts’ home.
Lily craned her neck back to peer up at the great house when she came to a stop behind Sophia. It was large, but she could not see anything more than that because the drapes were drawn shut, the only evidence that something untoward had happened inside. Soon the door was opened and Lily swept in behind Sophia, staring about the dark hall with open curiosity.
Sophia was looking the footman up and down. Since her troubles the year before, Sophia always noted the servants. It was a heightened awareness of security that Lily could not fault her for, considering how close she had come to being killed. Lily admonished herself for her inquisitiveness over the Ridley home and forced her attention to the conversation that the countess was having with the footman.
Lily noted that the young man was tall, with a friendly face and a smattering of freckles across his cheeks that spoke to his auburn thatch of hair.
“Have we met before?” The countess was questioning the footman, but Lily knew Sophia must have already noted that the servant was unknown to her.
“No, my lady.”
