Page 48 of A Duchess of Mystery (The Mismatched Lovers #3)

Thomas, the underfootman, came in next. He was a handsome young man with a secret he plainly didn’t want divining, that might or might not have had something to do with young Maud.

But he too knew nothing about money exchanging hands and had been on duty in the ballroom when Silas Barker had come asking questions in the kitchen on the night of the ball, so had never even crossed paths with him.

Of course, he could have been lying, but all four of them concluded that if he were, he must be the best liar any of them had ever met.

“And I’ve met a lot of them,” Atkins said, after Thomas had left.

It was looking more and more likely that the culprit was one of the grooms, a fact that Amos seemed inclined to take as a personal insult.

“Can you tell us anything about them?” Richard asked him, before they had Robert go and fetch the first one in.

Amos rubbed his whiskery chin, deep in troubled thought.

“I don’t like to think ill of either of them, but young Jack Watkins has been here the shortest time.

He only started working six months gone.

He seems a good lad and a hard worker, but he’s not quite the full ticket, I’m afraid.

” He frowned as though he didn’t want to malign the boy.

“A bit slow, you might say. Suggestable. If anyone were to try to get him to agree to something that wasn’t true, I think they might succeed.

Probably get him to believe it was true, too, if they told it to him enough times.

About the yard I give him one task at a time to do, and he manages, but if I try to give him any kind of list, the lad’s lost.”

Interesting. And if he turned out to be the false witness, his reliability could be easy to call into question due to his slow wittedness. But his poor memory and slow wits might be something that would make him a bad liar for the prosecution.

Well, according to his three companions, whoever had agreed to give evidence was indeed lying, and Richard had no reason not to believe them.

They were all adamant no one could have seen what went on that night, and besides which, if anyone had seen anything, they’d have been naming Dora as the murderer, not Isabella.

He began to feel more hopeful. “What about the other lad?”

Amos pulled a wry expression. “Jem’s the older of the two and been here longest. A couple of years now.

He’s a lad from one of the tenant farms, which is where he used to work.

His pa’s been ill this last year or more, and Jem’s older brother’s running the farm.

From what the lad’s told me, all his wages go back to his ma and brother to help keep the farm afloat.

” He paused as if reflecting. “Bit of an eye for the ladies, I’ve noticed, and he’s a sight better looking than young Jack, and about five times cleverer.

Might be him that lass Maud’s been philandering with, if it ain’t young Thomas. If she’s been up to anything, that is.”

“If she has, she’ll be in trouble,” Mrs. Barnes put in.

Atkins sighed. “Both of them sound possible.”

Mrs. Barnes nodded. “That lad Jem’s been hanging around Nellie the kitchen maid too.

Got too much of a wandering eye, that one.

Likes all the girls. I’ve warned him off more than once but he’s got perseverance, I’ll give him that.

And I’ve overheard him moan that he never has any money because he has to give it all to his family.

” She shook her head. “That’s never good for a lad his age.

He needs a bit to spend on a girl. He might well have been swayed in return for money. ”

“Let’s see Jem first then,” Richard said. “My instinct is telling me he’s our best bet if the other boy is a bit simple.”

Robert was dispatched to fetch Jem to the study.

He arrived, cap in hand, a big, blustering, confident youth with rough good looks any housemaid or kitchen maid might fancy.

Richard had seen him about the stableyard.

It was he who’d been eyeing Isabella. That was enough to raise his hackles, but he shouldn’t hold that against him.

Noticing how beautiful Isabella was didn’t mean the man was guilty of anything else, or he, Richard, might have to accuse himself.

“Jem, isn’t it?” Richard said, keeping his voice level and noncommittal. “Sit down.”

Jem seemed unfazed at having to face his lord and master.

“Yes, Your Grace. Thank you, Your Grace.” He sat down, an altogether more relaxed individual than even young Betsy.

A bit overly confident. Money in one’s pocket could do that to a lad, as Richard well knew.

Jem reminded him of one or two of his own riflemen after payday shenanigans.

He studied the young groom in silence for a few moments, weighing him up.

He couldn’t be much more than twenty, so would have been a baby when Richard left to join his first regiment.

That in itself made Richard feel old. “We have a few questions to ask of you, Jem. We’re asking them of everyone.

” Best not to let him feel singled out, as that might put him on the defensive.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Despite his apparent politeness, a current of rebellion underlay his words.

This was a young man who didn’t like to doff his cap to authority.

Richard had met enough young men like this during his time in the army.

A few years as a soldier would do Jem a lot of good.

If he turned out to be the guilty party, that was where they would send him. Off to take the king’s shilling.

“Good,” Richard said. “We’d like to know if anyone came asking you questions on the night of the ball.”

Jem might be overly confident, but he was not practiced at hiding things. He would have been terrible at playing cards. “I don’t think so,” he said, after a telltale momentary pause.

“Are you sure?” Atkins asked. “Others have told us that someone did. All of them have told the same story of a servant from another house come asking impertinent questions.”

Richard kept his eyes fixed on the lad.

Jem’s eyes darted to left and right, the bluster evaporated.

He had the appearance of a man who would like to leap up and flee.

“Now I recall,” he said in a hurry. “I’d forgot.

Some man from one of the carriages—a groom, I think—he came and chatted to us in the stableyard.

Bit over friendly, I thought.” A glisten of sweat had formed on his forehead.

He’d clearly decided that he would have to come clean about Barker’s presence, but not give away too much. In his lap, his hands had clenched in fists, the knuckles whitened.

“Did you speak to him?” Richard asked, his voice stern.

“And do not forget that we already have the testimony of others.” Not quite true, as so far they’d only heard from a few of the indoor servants, but Jem wasn’t to know they hadn’t already spoken to the other stable staff.

He might even think he’d been overheard speaking to Barker, if they were lucky.

Jem took on an even more hunted demeanor.

His overconfidence must have all been a show.

“I might have done. I don’t rightly remember.

I was busy in the stableyard with my chores.

There was water to take out to the horses what’d brought the guests to the ball, and sweeping up to do.

” Now he sounded sullen, as though he resented having had to work.

Richard’s gaze never wavered. The lad was on the back foot now, making any excuse he could think of.

They probably weren’t going to have to talk to young Jack.

With every word he uttered, Jem was digging himself in deeper.

Had it not crossed his mind, or Barker’s, that they would search for whoever claimed to have witnessed the murder?

Perhaps he was no brighter than poor Jack, after all.

“Well, think about it a bit harder and tell us what was said to you.” This was Amos, his bushy gray brows lowered over fiercely angry eyes, enough to quail the most cocky of young grooms. And Jem might already be in awe of his boss.

Jem swallowed. “Some bloke came asking me if I worked here,” he mumbled. “I said as I did.” He had balled his cap up in his hands.

“Go on,” Richard said. “I want the truth, mind.”

A war was going on, clearly written across Jem’s face. “He wanted to know if I’d seen anything on the night the old duke died.” He dropped his gaze to his hands.

“And what did you say?” Richard asked, menace in his tone now.

Jem shifted on his seat. “I said as I didn’t know nothing.”

Richard glanced at his fellow inquisitors. Amos shook his head, the scowl still on his face. Mrs. Barnes’s lips were pressed in a thin line of reproval. Atkins was glaring at Jem. “Did this man offer you money? Think carefully before you answer this. We want the truth.”

Jem kept his head down and stayed silent, as if that wasn’t a dead giveaway.

“Answer His Grace,” Atkins snapped. “You are in grave danger here, young man. And if you lie, the danger will only increase. Believe me. Giving false evidence is a serious offence punishable by a long sentence and perhaps transportation.”

Jem’s face blanched. “He did,” he mumbled.

Atkins pounced. “For what? You had seen nothing. What could he possibly have wanted you to say?”

Jem lifted terrified eyes, tears glistening in them.

“He wanted me to say I’d seen the duchess shoot the duke.

I said I couldn’t, because I hadn’t, but he was…

he was forceful, like. He kept telling me I must’ve seen it, through a window or something.

I said as I hadn’t, but he said if I said I had, he’d pay me.

” Red spots flared on his ashen cheeks. “He said as he’d come back later on and see me right if I’d sign a statement for him.

He come back this morning. With a piece of paper. ”

“Can you read?” Richard asked.