Deadly Kin_A Georgian Historical Mystery by Lucinda Brant

Author:Lucinda Brant [Brant, Lucinda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sprigleaf
Published: 2019-11-14T16:00:00+00:00

Seventeen

The Colonel did not follow Alec into the cottage. And when Alec turned to see why he gestured over his shoulder.

“They may need my help…”

“Of course,” Alec replied, stooped under the lintel. “I’ll rejoin you as soon as I discover what Old Bill knows, or does not. And it goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway: What you confided in me will go no further.”

“Thank you, my lord. That would be for the best. Most particularly for Mrs. Bailey. Her mind would surely unravel if she ever found out what I’d—Thank you,” he repeated in a mutter, the sadness in Alec’s eyes enough to make him swallow hard.

As the Colonel trudged back down the path, Alec entered the cottage. He was pleasantly surprised at how snug it was. And as he adjusted to the low light, a small wooden table by an undraped window came into focus. It was set for a meal, with utensils fashioned from deer antler and a couple of tin plates and mugs. In the center of this arrangement was a crusty loaf of bread partially wrapped in a linen cloth.

“Fresh bread? And stew. Venison?” he asked rhetorically, a glance at the simmering contents of an iron pot suspended over a crackling fire.

“That it is,” replied a thin-shouldered young man sitting crossed-legged at the far end of the table. “The best venison to be had from His Lordship’s prize herd.”

“Then I shall certainly have to taste—”

“Sorry, friend, but there’s not enough to go round.”

Alec came further into the space and regarded the young man who had not looked up from twirling a small knife with a polished wooden handle, the point of the curved blade anchored in a gnarl in the table top. He was well dressed in a frock coat without darns, and clean knee breeches. And for all the dirt on his boots, they had recently seen polish. He had clean hands that were unused to manual labor, nails short and smooth. So he was not one of Alec’s farmhands or an imported worker up at the house. In fact he did not present as a servant at all, and his cadence suggested he’d been educated far from Kent.

“I presume the bread also belongs to His Lordship and is branded with the Halsey cipher?” Alec asked lightly.

“You can’t be from around here if you have to ask,” the young man replied with a sigh of boredom. His gaze remained fixed on twirling the knife. “But it don’t need a cipher to be considered as belonging to His Lordship. That jug by the loaf, it’s full of elderflower wine. The elderflowers were picked from hedgerows belonging to His Lordship, and distilled in his distillery. That means it belongs to him, too.” He glanced up with a sneer, the knife balanced on its point with one finger. “So in the spirit of full disclosure, all of this was procured without His Lordship’s permission. That’s generally known as stealing. So if you eat or drink with us, you’re stealing too.

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