Never Doubt I Love by Patricia Veryan

Author:Patricia Veryan
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781250101372
Publisher: St. Martin's Press

CHAPTER X

“When asked if you would sign a statement specificating as the gent was racing of his carriage,” said Mr. Young of Bow Street, consulting the papers he had brought to Yerville Hall, “your eggsack words was—‘I—most—certinly—will!’”

He was short and sturdy, with a deeply lined face and a truculent chin. He had refused to sit down, and stood in the centre of the morning room with the air of a gladiator prepared to take on all comers. His eyes, deep-set under great bushy eyebrows that stood straight out from his face like miniature chevaux-de-frise, lifted, to dart accusation at Zoe.

“Yes, I know I did,” she said apologetically. “But, you see, when I stopped to think about it—”

“You thought it best to change ‘will’ to ‘will not’!” he growled.

Zoe frowned. “I can understand your feelings, Mr. Young, but kindly do not use that tone of voice to me. At the time of the accident I was upset and did not stop to think that—”

“You thought enough,” he interrupted again, consulting the statement. “You thought enough to say as this here Mr. Perry-green. Cranford was ‘a—bad—man.’ And when asked, specific, if the victim had walked crost the street, your very own words was: ‘Of—course—what—would—you—think?’”

“Oh, dear. I did say that. But—”

“But now, you bin and changed your thoughts, ma’am. And what I would like to know is this: What brung about this sudden change? I bin round afore today, ma’am. And I were turned away every time. And now you tells me as this good-looking young gentry cove ain’t a bad man after all, and that you was—”

“Be so kind as to tell me who this—person—is, Miss Grainger,” commanded Lady Buttershaw, coming into the room with a rustle of satin and an expression of abhorrence. “And why you saw fit to interview him alone.”

The Runner held up a short baton surmounted by a crown. “I am a orficer o’ the law,” he announced. “Exercising of me right as such to—”

“I believe I asked you a question, Miss Grainger,” barked Lady Buttershaw, ignoring him.

The face of the officer of the law became a darker red, his eyebrows more bristly than ever, and his jaw even more pugnacious.

Zoe said, “This is Mr. Young, from Bow Street, my lady. He brought the statement that—”

“A fig for his statement! He was told yesterday, and the day before, that you had erred and had no clear recollection of the incident. I have no time to waste on silly nonsense. Arbour!” Her ladyship turned to the doorway where the butler hovered. “Show this person out!”

“If you please, ma’am,” said Zoe firmly. “I feel I owe Mr. Young an explanation of why—”

“Once again your feelings are misplaced! You owe him nothing! Any Bow Street officer worth his salt should know better than try to force statements from a gently bred-up young lady who is clearly in a swooning condition!”

The Runner snapped, “The law, me lady, is the law! And not no one’s got the right to—”

“Be still, you insolent creature!” Lady Buttershaw’s volume made Zoe wince, and rattled the prisms on a lamp shade.

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