Sophie relegating their altercation to inconsequential in just the wink of an eye, waved her hands in the air. ‘Oh, never mind that. I think I have discovered who your murderer might be.’
Harry looked surprised. Sophie should not be visiting him at his home but he was only too delighted to see her, also the Countess was home and might make trouble. Instructing his groom to see to the horses, he led her into the house through the back, and into his study where they would not be disturbed. He turned toward her and kissed her tenderly only pleased to feel her in his arms once more. After having his fill and assuring himself that she was really there, he put his hands on her shoulders.
‘Now what is this about finding my murderer,’ he asked rather seriously. ‘What mischief have you been brewing now? my lady rogue.’
Sophie looked at him with her wide blue eyes. ‘Really, Harry, I have not done anything that I should not.’ She hesitated. ‘Well, not much anyway. I did wander rather further than I should and ended up on the Town Moor but I did not mean to, really I did not, but I had that much on my mind, I forgot myself.’
‘The Town Moor!’ Harry gasped. The Town Moor was larger than Hyde Park and Hampstead Heath combined and it was some distance away. Harry was disturbed that she had wandered so far but was not surprised. ‘Go on, and I suppose you found my murderer there and he confessed it all,’ he replied gravely.
She looked into his sparkling green eyes and could not quite read them. She could not decide if they sparkled with humour or anger, but his mouth appeared grim. She was not about to let that alarm her. ‘Well in a manner of speaking, I think that may just be possible,’ she replied. ‘I met Mr Featherstone there and of course, he did not confess it but he was quite abominable.’
Harry’s brow creased with worry. ‘What do you mean abominable, Sophie? I really hope that you did not confront him over your father’s death or my brother’s murder. You had better tell me everything.’
Sophie proceeded to relate the encounter with Mr Featherstone quite proud of the fact that she had held her own and Harry listened in horrified silence. He was torn between kissing her senseless for her good fortune or giving her a good shaking for total stupidity. He folded his arms in disapproval. ‘Sophie, I swear I could put you over my knee for your exploits this morning but I could never bring myself to do such a thing. I am just relieved that you are unharmed. He kissed her again and looked into her searching blue eyes. ‘You must promise me to confine your rides to your Uncle’s estate in future.’
‘I will,’ she promised. ‘Because he threatened to finish off what he had started so I do not intend to give him the satisfaction.’ She grimaced. ‘He kisses like a wet fish, Harry. He reminded me of a slippery haddock and I do not intend to let him near me again. The man is a fiend and there is every chance he is our murderer.’
Harry did not think that Sophie comprehended just exactly what Mr Featherstone meant and paced the floor in anger. He looked up solemnly. ‘Sophie, from what you have told me that hardly makes the man a murderer, but you are right, Mr Featherstone is dangerous. He will answer for his actions.’
Sophie grabbed Harry’s arm. ‘Oh no, you don’t. If you mean to challenge him to a duel I will never forgive you. Really, Harry, it was nothing. I fended for myself quite well.’
‘I am sure you did,’ he said with a wry smile, ‘but it is his intentions that worry me now. I cannot just ignore what you have told me, Sophie. You will have to trust me to do what is right.’
He reached out for her and pulled her close. ‘Now come here and I will eradicate your memories of wet fish.’ He lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her passionately until all she could feel was the overpowering heat of desire and Mr Featherstone was long forgotten.
*****
Harry escorted Sophie back to Chalcotte Grange and stayed to exchange a few pleasantries with her Uncle.
Uncle Jack took his hand and shook it vigorously. ‘Good to see you, my boy. I am so glad to see that the pair of you have sorted out your differences. You know Sophie is such a naughty puss. I delayed putting any advertisement it the paper. I knew that she would come around.’
Harry thanked the Baron cordially and deliberated on whether to inform him of Sophie’s latest iniquity. He decided against it. He did not think that the laid back Baron had the fortitude to influence Sophie with much success. He would just gently chide her and tell her not to do it again. Sophie, however, could not go on thinking that she was invincible and he decided that it would be better if he had a few quiet words with Sebastian when he saw him next. He would catch up with his friend later, meanwhile, he would have to content himself with Sophie’s promise to confine herself to the estate.
Harry returned home. Mr Featherstone had been the next person on his list for investigation along with Mr Redesdale but he decided that the former could not wait until tomorrow. Exchanging Julius for Rupert’s bay, Aramis, and armed with his pistol and sword, he left the house once more intent on his errand.
He knew Mr Featherstone lived in Charlotte Square in the centre of Newcastle. It was an hour’s ride away and Harry cursed at the thought of having to go to the city for the second time in one day. He looked at his pocket watch. If he left now he would probably be in time to catch Mr Featherstone before he went out for the evening.
An hour later Harry secured Aramis in Charlotte Square and examined his surroundings. Charlotte Square was a relatively new development of elite houses built in red brick and Harry found himself wondering how Mr Featherstone, a mere mister with no visible means of support, could afford such a luxurious home. What is more, Charlotte Square was only yards away from Black Friars where Rupert’s body had been discovered. Was this just an unfortunate coincidence or had Sophie hit on something after all? Harry secured his sword and checked his pistol and climbed the two steps that led to the front door. He would soon find out.
Harry was angry. He did not know if Mr Featherstone’s threat to Sophie had been made out of sheer pique for having been thwarted, or if he had really meant it. Either way, the threat could not be ignored. He would make Mr Featherstone see the error of his ways.
Harry was granted entry with no problems and was left waiting in the hallway while the manservant went to enquire of his master. Mr Featherstone appeared somewhat surprised. After his encounter with Lady Trevarren on the Town Moor, he had half expected a challenge from Sir Sebastian Wyndholme but nowhere in his imagination had he expected Colonel Northcote.
Mr Featherstone had the decided leanings of a dandy. He was immaculately dressed in a jacket of blue superfine, a multi-coloured waistcoat and black satin breeches, and obviously ready to go out. He led Harry into the drawing room.
‘As you can see, I am about to leave for the evening but I can spare you a few minutes. Kindly state your business.’
Harry decided to broach him about his brother’s murder first. After all, he did not think he would be so cooperative once he had beaten the living daylights out of him. Harry gave a deceptive smile.
‘Mr Featherstone. My brother was found murdered just around the corner from here on Saturday night and I have come to enquire if you heard or saw anything.’
Mr Featherstone relaxed a little. He was not about to receive a challenge after all. He had been quite prepared for it but he had not relished the idea. Pistols at dawn were inconvenient, to say the least.
‘I am sorry, Colonel, but I have already had a constable here and there is nothing I can add to what I have already said. I did not see or hear anything the night your brother was shot.’
‘And where were you between nine and eleven o’clock on that night? I assume you can account for yourself?’
Mr Featherstone just smiled mockingly. ‘I assume that I am a suspect in this sad affair but I am not inclined to oblige you with an answer. Anyway, what motive would I have for killing Winstanley?’
‘Perhaps he threatened you with exposure for cheating Lord Trevarren out of his wealth.’ Harry looked around him at
the extravagant décor. ‘You appear to live very well, Mr Featherstone and one must wonder how you earn your money.’
Mr Featherstone growled. ‘That is no business of yours and your brother made no such threats. If you think I killed Winstanley, you will have to prove it.’
‘Oh, I intend to get to the bottom of the matter, no matter how long it takes. Why don’t you make it easy on yourself and account for your movements if you are innocent?’
Mr Featherstone gave a sardonic smile. ‘Unfortunately, I cannot do that. You see, I left the Assembly Rooms early with a lady and I am really not prepared to divulge her name.’
‘No matter,’ Harry replied. ‘I will find out by other means. No doubt others saw you in the company of this lady. I assure you that I will make enquiries to verify what you say.’
Mr Featherstone lost patience and moved to dismiss him. ‘Well if there is nothing else, Colonel. As you can see, I am heading for my club.’
‘No, Mr Featherstone, I am afraid that I must detain you a moment longer. It has come to my attention that you accosted lady Trevarren on the Town Moor this morning and made certain threats. I am here to address the matter.’
Mr Featherstone stiffened. So he was not to escape a challenge after all. He bowed slightly. ‘Then name your friends, sir and I will have mine attend them.’
Harry removed his gloves and cape and laid them on a convenient chair. ‘Oh, I have no intention of challenging you to a duel, Mr Featherstone. I think we will just settle matters here and now. You see, like you, I have no desire to sully a ladies name in such an unpleasant business.’
With his left hand, Harry grabbed Mr Featherstone by the fall of his exquisitely tied cravat and punched him full in the jaw with a powerful right hook. He rubbed his bruised fist in his palm. ‘Let that be a lesson to you for accosting lady Trevarren. That was just a warning. If in future, I hear that you have come within a hundred yards of her, I will kill you.’
Mr Featherstone staggered back but then rallied, raising his fist in a pugilist pose. ‘If you think you are the only one to have taken lessons from Gentleman Jackson, you are quite mistaken. I have been known to sport my fives and draw some claret myself.’ He threw a punch missing Harry by an inch and the two set about an all-out mill. Mr Featherstone threw a few well-aimed punches that hit their target but after five minutes it was Harry who displayed to advantage. Having winded Mr Featherstone beyond the point of immediate recovery he held him against the wall with a hand around his throat.
He squeezed a little harder. ‘Repeat after me, Mr Featherstone. I promise not to come within a hundred yards of lady Trevarren.’
Mr Featherstone feeling his breath leaving his body repeated the words slowly between coughs and splutters hoping for release, but release did not come.
‘Just one more question, sir,’ said Harry sharply, his long shapely finger still surrounding Mr Featherstone’s throat. ‘Are you a member of the Four Horse Club?’
Mr Featherstone’s bulging eyes glazed over mystified by the sudden change of subject, but with no more breath for words he nodded an affirmative.
Harry released him. ‘Then show me your drab cape. Now!’
Bringing his hand to his bruised throat, Mr Featherstone replied with a raspy voice. ‘It is in my armoire with the rest of the uniform. I do not understand. Why should you want it?’
Harry offered no explanation but propelled him to the door. Producing his pistol in case the manservant should appear and try to rescue his master, he demanded to be taken to Mr Featherstone’s bedchamber. ‘Show me,’ he ordered as he frog-marched Mr Featherstone out of the drawing room and up the stairs. The manservant, fortunately, was nowhere to be seen so they reached the bedchamber without mishap. Mr Featherstone sat on his bed breathing heavily and soothing his bruised throat while Harry rifled through his armoire looking for the familiar attire worn by members of the Four Horse Club. With one keen eye on Mr Featherstone and the other on his task, he found the ankle drab cape on a hanger on top of the customary blue and yellow striped waistcoat. He examined the cape for a missing mother-of-pearl button but all were present and correct. It was plain that Mr Featherstone was probably telling the truth about his movements on the night Rupert was murdered.
He threw the garment on a nearby chair and turned to Mr Featherstone. ‘You are lucky. I believe you. I am finished here now but if you value your life, remember what I said about lady Trevarren.’
As Harry made his way out, Mr Featherstone, still holding his bruised throat, struggled across to the dresser and sat down peering into the glass. A large discoloration was forming on his jaw, his nose was broken and he had a cut above his right eye. His immaculate jacket was smeared with blood and his cravat was crumpled. He groaned. Now he would have to postpone his outing as he could hardly go to his club looking like a punching bag.
Mr Featherstone frowned in bewilderment. ‘Why had the Colonel asked about his membership of the Four Horse Club? It made no sense at all, but being incommoded, he had been in no position to insist on an explanation. Taking his hanky out of his pocket he wiped the cut across his eye, his anger mounting by the minute. He looked closer at his reflection. His nose was broken and was swelling at an alarming rate. It sat crooked and he suspected it would never be the same again. As Mr Featherstone was a vain dandy, this was the worst circumstance of all. The Colonel’s hostile proficiency had taken him aback. Perhaps he would leave lady Trevarren alone after all. The chit was just not worth it.
Chapter Fifteen
Lady Northcote paced the floor in the drawing room at Winstanley Hall, her attractive face once more marred with a scowl and her demeanour one of unease. She turned to her companion. ‘The constables have exhausted their enquiries and have come up with nothing, but I do not like it, for Harry has been making some investigations of his own.’
The Viscount, leaning casually against the fireplace with his arm draped over the mantle, watched her with a jaundiced eye. He was his usual immaculate self and exuded an air of confidence. ‘Do sit down Cecelia, you will wear out the carpet. He will discover nothing. I have covered my tracks well.’
Lady Northcote stopped pacing the floor and stared at him. ‘Are you sure, John? Harry is no fool. Oh, I rue the day that Rupert invited him here. A pity the frogs did not finish him off along with Stephen.’
‘What would you have me do?’ he replied. ‘Arrange the Colonel's demise also? One murder could be put down to footpads but a second one will definitely raise suspicions and bring investigations nearer home.’
He walked across, took her chin in his hand and gave her a rough lascivious kiss. He released her and soothed her cheek. ‘Trust me, Cecelia, keep your head and all will be well.’
She raised her arms to his neck and laid her head on his shoulder. ‘Oh, when can we be married, John. I just wish everything was all over and we could get on with our lives again.’
Marriage was the last thing he wished to discuss, considering he already had a wife in London. Lady Cecelia Northcote was just a diversion. He had far more important things on his mind. ‘You must be patient,’ he replied. ‘It would arouse suspicions if we married too soon. Maybe in a few months’ time.’
Putting his hands on her shoulders he held her at arm’s length and purposely changed the subject. ‘Did you do that thing I asked of you?’ he asked soberly.
Lady Northcote turned away from him and waved her arms in frustration. ‘How could I? Harry has changed the locks on the safe and the study door, and I no longer have access. The insensitive brute. His brother has not been dead for five minutes and already he is lording it over us all.’ She turned back to him. ‘I did try but it is impossible, and surely, it cannot be all that important.’
Her companion cursed. She did not know the half of it. It was literally a matter of life and death. His to be precise if his treasonous activities ever came to light. The letter he was searching for had disappeared from his own home. It was a letter detailing the strength and positio
n of the British naval fleet. It was written in French and in his own handwriting. The war was over and peace had been declared but there was still unrest. Napoleon still had his supporters and sold to the right people this information was worth a fortune and he was not prepared to forego that fortune. If this letter fell into the wrong hands, the Viscount would hang.
The deceased Earl claimed to have come into possession of the letter. Winstanley may have been many things, but he drew the line at treason and had threatened him with exposure. The Viscount had needed to act quickly and the death of the Earl had been his first expedient. His first attempt on the evening of the Dereham’s garden party had failed. He had not reckoned on the Colonel accompanying the carriage and when his first shot had missed by a hair’s breadth, he abandoned the attempt. He deemed the presence of three men just too risky to the success of his mission. Cecelia knew nothing about it and when she broached him on the subject, he denied it.
His second attempt, however, had not failed, but now he needed that letter before the Colonel found it. He was still sure that it lay undiscovered because Colonel Northcote had been all that was civil at the funeral, but time was not on his side. Should it come into the Colonel’s possession, he would have to dispose of him also. A prospect he would rather avoid.
Lady Northcote looked at him curiously. ‘What is this letter, anyway, John and how came my husband by it? Surely, it hardly matters now that he is dead.’
The Viscount waved his hand dismissively. ‘Nothing to concern you, my dear, just some business with your husband that I prefer did not become public knowledge, and I do not trust the Colonel to be discreet.’ He looked at her questioningly. ‘Have you tried the study door again?’
‘Yes, I tell you. It is locked and apart from the window there is no other way in.’
John made his decision. ‘Then I shall try the window. Do you know when the Colonel will be returning?’
‘I have no idea,’ she replied. ‘He spends most mornings here at Winstanley Hall giving that Trevarren brat fencing lessons, and then goes out for the rest of the day asking too many meddling questions. I am not expecting him back just yet, but I cannot be certain.’
Lady Trevarren and the Emerald Brooch: A Regency Romance and Murder Mystery Page 17