The Swordmaster's Mistress: Dangerous Deceptions Book Two(13)

‘In the middle, if you would, my lady.’ Jared Hunt settled next to her, his broad shoulders taking up enough room that she had no choice but to sit against that patch, the colour of dried blood. ‘If I say down, I want both of you on the floor, at once. Do you understand?’

‘Perfectly,’ she said tartly, the memory of that long, hard body pinning her to the carpet in her sitting room all too vivid.

‘Good. Let us discuss the adder in the sewing basket. Where was it?’

‘On the terrace at Allerton Grange in Yorkshire.’ He looked at her sharply, so she explained. ‘In the first eighteen months of our marriage we went to Northam Hall, in Dorset, my husband’s principal country property, when we wanted to be away from London. But Augustus had only acquired Allerton quite recently and there were matters requiring his attention, so we had moved there for a few weeks in the middle of March.’

She explained carefully, wanting to give him every detail. ‘I had taken my embroidery outside because the Spring sunshine was so lovely, even though it was a trifle chilly. I wanted to add small details to the design and that needed good light, but I was interrupted by unexpected visitors. I left the basket with my work where it was, on a table on the terrace. When I returned and lifted the embroidery frame from the top the adder was coiled inside.’

‘And it was not there before?’

‘Absolutely not. Earlier I had rummaged right to the bottom in search of my thimble, I could not have missed it.’ She paused, thinking back to the shock of seeing the snake curled there like a jewelled rope on top of the silks. ‘It was quite a large one.’

‘Could it have crawled in when you were away? Although in March it would only just have emerged from hibernation and would be sluggish, I believe,’ he added. ‘I have more experience recently with cobras in India than the snakes of the English countryside.’

‘The basket was on top of a pedestal table, sir,’ Faith interjected while Guin was digesting the fact that Mr Hunt had been in India. ‘My lady had laid her embroidery frame over the top, and that is quite large. I cannot see how the snake could have crawled in by itself.’

‘So who could have approached the terrace unobserved, Lady Northam?’

‘Almost anyone,’ Guin admitted. ‘I was entertaining our callers in the salon on the other side of the house. There would be a risk of being seen by the servants, of course, but anyone could walk across the lawns from the shrubbery.’

‘Or come out from the house.’

‘One of us, you mean, sir? One of the staff?’ Faith shot an apologetic look at Guin, ‘I’m sorry to interrupt, my lady. But I’ve been thinking about it so much. Who would have a snake hidden, be carrying it about, just on the off-chance that they would come across your sewing box outside and unattended?’

‘I imagine they meant to take it inside and put it in your bed, or a desk drawer,’ Jared Hunt said. ‘They cannot have guessed or predicted that you would take your embroidery to the terrace when you did. The unattended sewing basket was simply fortuitous. It doesn’t help us identify anyone. I suppose you have no young lads with pet snakes about the place who might have confused the species? I kept grass snakes as a boy.’

‘No small boys.’ The mental picture of a thin child with dark eyes and long, sensitive fingers holding a writhing mass of snakes came to her. Surely this man had never been a small boy? ‘Nor does this help us eliminate anyone either. If we even had a list to eliminate people from, that is,’ she added with a sigh.

‘The sawn-through stair rail means that someone must have gained entry at least once before.’ Jared Hunt was frowning over his notebook again.

‘My husband had the stairs carpeted at the same time as the work carried out in the room in the turret,’ Guin said. ‘We were away that entire week in York – anyone might have got in along with the workmen and carpenters.’

‘We have arrived, my lady.’ Faith was gathering her things together as the carriage drew up in the little side street off Piccadilly.

Guin stood up when the footman opened the carriage door and let down the step, only to find that Mr Hunt had followed her out onto the pavement. ‘There is no need to trouble to come in with me.’

‘I think there is.’ He was already at the door and into the shop before she could respond, leaving the footman to escort her and Faith across the pavement. She sincerely hoped he did not intend following her into the fitting room.

And when they were inside he was already talking to Madame Fontenay’s principal assistant – flirting with her, Guin thought indignantly – and she showed him through to the back, quite ignoring Guin.

They remerged after a moment with Madame herself. She bore down on Guin, all fluttering tape measures and beaming smile. ‘My lady. The gowns are waiting for you in the fitting room. May I order you some refreshment?’

The modiste steered her towards the familiar door but not before Guin overheard the assistant. ‘Ooh, Monsieur! Is that sword real? It is so big!’

Guin managed not to roll her eyes. Why Mr Hunt had to be armed with his rapier – which was not, whatever the assistant might think, a big sword – in order to visit a dress shop she could not imagine. A pistol would be more use, surely? Perhaps he had one of those concealed about his person. He certainly had a knife, she remembered.