Strike at Midnight(21)

“Thanks,” I said, making my way over to the corner where the two guys sat.

“May I sit with you for a moment?” I asked, and the one I assumed to be Lord Dumpty turned towards me with wide eyes.

“You’re a lady,” he said, totally aghast, and he waved me away. “You don’t belong here.” He turned and gave me his back, and Lord Peacock’s cheeks reddened in embarrassment from this idiot’s behavior.

“Well, get this, guys,” I said, smiling. “I’m a woman, not a lady, so keep your tights on.” The spare seat next to them proved useful as I sat down on it. “I just want to ask you some questions about the Duke of York.”

“Don’t talk to her, Peacock,” Lord Dumpty said as if he was going to have a fit. “She has to leave.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake,” I said, concentrating my efforts on the Peacock guy. “Can you just answer me, please? Do you know him, or not?”

“Yes,” Lord Peacock said, and Lord Dumpty slapped him on the leg as if he was swatting a fly.

“Shush, Barnaby,” he said, and I leaned forward and snatched the goblet out of his hand to gulp down the contents. Happy it was wine, I placed it down on the small table in front of him.

“Nice,” I said, pointing at the empty goblet. “Now see? I’m not a lady. I’m a woman and a renegade hunter, in fact, and I am looking for information on the duke. Do you know him?”

“She drank my wine,” Lord Dumpty said as if I hadn’t even spoken. “How dare she? How dare—”

“We speak to him quite frequently,” Lord Peacock said, and Dumpty started to flap his mouth open and shut in sheer exasperation.

“Oh, will you keep still and shut up before you have a heart attack,” I said, turning to Dumpty. The guy did sit back in his chair, but then he started fanning himself with his hand as if he couldn’t quite believe it. I turned back to Peacock.

“Did you notice any change in his behavior lately? After he came back on the scene?”

“Do not tell her, Barna—”

“If you do not shut your fucking mouth, I will ram that goblet up your rear end. Are we clear?”

“Oh my goodness!” he said. “How dare you!”

“Be quiet, Egbert,” Lord Peacock said this time, and it shocked me when our dear Egbert Dumpty did exactly that. “He did seem quite different,” he continued, this time talking to me. “But we put it down to the fact that he had been ill. He said that had been why we hadn’t seen him for a while. We thought nothing more of it.”

“What do you mean by different?”

“He said I was invading his personal space too much, and to stay the hell away from him.” A light rose dusted his cheeks again, and my heart went out to the guy. “It wasn’t like the duke at all, but I thought maybe I had crossed a line. I said nothing of it to anyone. I didn’t see the need.”

“When was the last time you saw him before he became ill?”

He bit his lip as he thought about it, then his eyes flickered with recognition.

“It was here. The night after a big card game. He won a few hands and did quite well on the last one. He was quite intoxicated when he left and called it a night. Is something wrong with the duke?”

“Nothing to be too concerned about, I hope.” He would find out the real reason soon enough when the imposter duke’s arrest hit the journals. “Thanks for the information.”

“You’re welcome.”

“Thanks for the wine, Eggy,” I said to Egbert, and he let out a large gasp and put his hand to his heart. Let him have another little diva fit without me present.

He was Peacock’s problem now.





*



After confirming with the asshole on the door that the duke had definitely left in his own carriage the night of the game, it was inevitable that I would need to take a quick detour to the duke’s estate.

Rapunzel was on the case and would do just that, but the specifics about the driver were important. She could delve into the rest when she got there later on.

A very kind farmer with his horse and cart gave me a lift, so that saved my legs a bit. He couldn’t get on the duke’s lands due to the natural edge of trees that marked his borders, but he managed to drop me close by.

Once I broke through the trees, I could see the duke’s home come into view. The manor house looked like a smaller version of a rustic castle the closer I got to it, but without the turrets at the peaks of its towers. It played host to slanted roofing on the main part of the house, but it had merlons and crenels at the top of the cylindrical wings that had been built on either end. The contradiction of such a defensive home compared to the open and tended gardens gave more credence to how old this place was. It looked like it had seen a few battles in its time.

It still baffled me why someone would want to live in such a big house with only servants for company. The echo of lonely footsteps through the halls was something I never had to worry about when I was growing up.

My father’s home had been modest and full of life—at least it had until I was banished to being a lowly servant. But until then, there always used to be laughter or chatter, or dancing and singing. There was always someone around if you needed them, and even the servants had been like family. I supposed that’s what had made their deceit more painful when they had turned their heads at that bitch’s treatment of me.