The Devil You Know (The Devil DeVere #3)(39)

“Yes. His groom Johnson was to ride Reggie’s stallion, Centurion,” Edward said.

“What do we know of the circumstances leading to the discovery of the body?”

DeVere interjected, “My man Pratt came upon the horse saddled as if to ride but greatly agitated and pacing in his box. When he investigated further, he found the deceased and the unconscious groom.”

“And there was no sign of injury to the horse?” Sir John asked.

“None, according to Pratt,” DeVere answered.

“That’s most curious that he did not run then. Have either of you any knowledge of the stallion’s temperament? Might we surmise that he attacked the unwary groom?”

“To my knowledge, Centurion is high spirited, but not a vicious animal,” Edward replied.

Sir John scowled and scratched some notes. “Yet stallions can be unpredictable. Surely it is a possibility.”

“I fear that cock won’t fight, my lord,” argued Dr. Stone. “The groom was battered and beaten almost beyond recognition, but there are no hoof prints on his body to suggest it could have been the horse.”

Sir John’s scowl deepened. He took another glass of port. “What do you suggest then?”

Dr Stone remained impassive. “I suggest nothing, my lord. I merely relate the facts.”

“And the same facts are sadly unsupportive of any motive for violence,” said DeVere.

“Unless, of course, his lordship lost control upon finding his horse unable to run,” Sir John said. “Yes, yes, indeed. It all comes together now. Lord Reginald had become compulsive in his gaming and was heavily in debt. He had hoped to recover his losses through the horse race, but then his horse failed to run. Is it possible that this outcome may have been the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back? A man in such desperate straits is rarely of a sound mind, you know.”

He added an aside, “Could it have moved him to assault the groom?”

“But Lord Reginald hardly struck one as a man with a choleric temperament,” the duchess observed. “I wonder that he could have been capable of such violence.”

“My dear duchess, many a gentleman has taken an uncharacteristic action when faced with the prospect of ruin. I can only surmise by the evidence that he assaulted the groom and then turned the pistol upon himself as the only honorable solution.” Sir John looked exceedingly pleased with his hypothesis.

“But can one truly rule out the possibility of murder?” she asked.

Sir John laughed. “Respectfully, your Grace, I would call that a fanciful speculation.”

“But what if a motive could be discovered?” She slanted a sly look to Ludovic.

“Unless the groom recovers his senses sufficiently to speak, there is no evidence to suggest foul play,” Sir John answered condescendingly. “I will, as a matter of course, need to question the Baroness, but I am confident these unfortunate proceedings will be hastily concluded. Is the lady prone to hysterics?”

“No, I would say not,” Sir Edward answered. “Diana is my wife’s cousin. I believe her of stout enough character to sit for necessary questioning once she has had sufficient time to compose her nerves, of course.”

“I daresay, a good dose of laudanum in her tea won’t go astray about now,” said Dr. Stone.

“Pray allow me to take it to her,” offered Caroline.

“You are all that is gracious, Duchess,” said the doctor.

She’s a conniving bitch! Ludovic stifled his retort. Instead, he politely interjected, “But I believe Lady Chambers is already attending the baroness. Is she not, Sir Edward?”

“But my Lord DeVere, you well know I am also recently bereaved.

Only another who has suffered the same loss can truly understand a widow’s grief,” Caroline replied with convincing solicitude.

“Indeed so,” muttered Dr. Stone. Opening his bag, he measured out a dose from a blue bottle into a medicine cup and handed it to the duchess. Caroline shot Ludovic a triumphant look over her shoulder as she departed.

The door to Diana’s

***

chamber opened without even a perfunctory knock, and the Duchess of Beauclerc entered in a swirl of silk. “You poor dear,” she said with feigned sympathy. “What a terrible, terrible shock you have received.” She seated herself by Diana’s side without invitation. “I am come upon Dr. Stone’s insistence that you take a small dose of laudanum to settle your nerves. I have also taken the liberty of calling for tea.”

“Thank you, duchess, but it is entirely unnecessary. I am here to attend Diana’s needs,” Annalee answered.

“But you look so very fatigued, my lady. Your poor husband fears this is far too much strain for a woman in your condition. He insisted that you go and rest yourself. I shall attend your cousin.”

Annalee looked from Diana to Caroline with uncertainty.

“You do look fagged, dearest. I daresay Edward is right to fret,”

Diana said. “I have been unforgivably selfish. Pray go and rest.”

“Are you certain, Diana?”

“Yes.” Diana forced a smile. “I will be fine.”

“Just a short rest, then,” Annalee conceded. “I will return in an hour or so to check on you.”