Daughters of Disguise by Issy Brooke

Author:Issy Brooke [Brookw, Issy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-12-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

Incomers, she thought. People who are not of the old court leet. People who are not part of the council. People who are not burgesses.

People like Caradog Lloyd, the barber, who spoke so disparagingly of the ladies. And she had a strong feeling, now, that there was some link between him and them, from their shared past in the village. It could tell her more about who could want to harm the ladies, she thought, if only she could ask the right questions.

So Cordelia took Stanley with her and went from the castle, back through the narrow twisting streets, to the barber’s shop. She asked him to come in with her, and to watch and learn as much as he could. She was certain, after her last encounter with the man, that she did not want to be alone with him. He was too sure of his attractiveness.

It was quiet in the shop, and George was just being sent out on an errand. He nodded without recognition as he waited just in the entrance for both Stanley and Cordelia to come in, then he went out carrying some parcels without a backwards glance.

Caradog grinned widely at the pair of them. “Ahh, madam holidaymaker — Lady Cornbrook, was it not? — and the mistress of the woman my apprentice has taken a shine to.”

Stanley bristled.

“Indeed,” she said.

“And are you here to have the lad smartened up?” Caradog nodded at Stanley and began to pull out a chair ready for him.

“Ah — no.” She weighed up the pros and cons of revealing her true intent, and decided that the time had come to be honest. “I am investigating the murder of Miss Walker and the attempted murder of Miss Scott.”

He laughed, then grew serious for a moment, then relaxed and laughed again. “You? Under whose authority? None, I would say. Well, it is a fine pastime for an idle lady, is it not? But I wager I could amuse you a lot more than a little light armchair sleuthing, if you are looking for something to fill your empty hours with.” He smarmed his way over to her and Stanley coughed.

“I am working with the authorities,” she told him. She decided not to say that it was only Constable Evans and that he had been barred from investigating further. “But you must not feel as if you are a suspect,” she went on. “I am seeking only to find out more about the ladies, and you knew them as children, didn’t you?”

“Who said that?” he demanded.

“Why, you yourself said as much, when I came to see you last.”

“Did I?”

“Do you deny it?” she said, pressing him.

Caradog finally stepped away from her, and wandered over to the bench on the wall below a long mirror. He tidied up some brushes, and said, “No, I don’t deny it. I just don’t care to be associated with them, that is all.”

“And why is that?”

“The obvious reasons! They were busybodies, do-gooders, and unnatural in their dress.

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