Page 6

“How the hell would I know? I have only just arrived.” But excitement buzzed at the base of his spine.

Perhaps this was exactly what he needed to stave off the ennui.

He took a few steps forward toward the body.

It was obvious from the unnatural way his neck was situated that the man was very clearly dead.

“Again, I’ll ask the same question. What happened? ”

One of the other women dabbed at her eyes with a delicate handkerchief. “The boys were daring each other to walk the tops of all the roofs on the property, but he lost his balance.”

Merely an accident brought on by the stupidity of youth. How disappointing. “Who was here at the time?”

The same woman answered. “Just us.” The blonde with rosy cheeks and tear-filled eyes gestured to the immediate knot of people. “Five of us plus him.”

“And who is he?” With a stifled groan, Felix kneeled on his good knee with his injured leg stretched out behind him. He removed a glove and pressed his fingertips to the fallen man’s neck. There was no pulse.

One of the men cleared his throat. He was a bit green about the gills, and Felix hoped he didn’t cast up his accounts. “Uh, Mr. Devon Lockhart. Son of a baron, but I can’t remember who.”

“Damn.” A member of the beau monde . This would be messy.

After taking a small, leatherbound notebook from the pocket of his jacket, Felix wrote down their names.

“In the event that an investigation is required later, I’ll need to know where you are, so return to the luncheon, but do not leave this property.

Also, one of you needs to send a footman out here. ”

The company dispersed like mice faced with a light.

Except one. The woman had only just arrived, and she surveyed the scene with bright interest. Of course it was the locket-wearing one he’d seen earlier at luncheon.

Her black upswept hair gleamed almost blue in the sun’s rays.

The deep purple gown she wore gave life to her pale face.

“Please return to the terrace. There has been an unfortunate accident.”

She snorted. “Considering that you are not my father, my brother, my employer, my master, or my husband, I clearly don’t need to follow your dictates.”

Why would she have a master? For the space of a few heartbeats, his mind went to a dark place and formed more questions than answers. Then he focused his gaze on her as his eyebrows rose. Did she assume she’d stay and poke about? Not on his watch. “Stay out of my way, Miss Ives.”

A footman arrived at that time. “Are you Major Kourier?”

“I am. Please keep all guests as well as all members of the Ives family away from this area. There has been a terrible accident,” he barked, as his gaze landed on the woman once more.

“We will need somewhere to keep the body until arrangements have been made.” Then he ignored the unwanted guest to begin a cursory examination of the body.

“Might I help?”

“No. Go away.” That was when he spied blood at the back of Mr. Lockhart’s sandy blond hair.

Gingerly, he turned the man’s head to better examine the wound—a ball had clearly gone through at the base of his skull, no doubt killing him instantly.

The broken neck wasn’t the cause of death. “Damn. This wasn’t an accident.”

“How can you tell?”? Clearly, the elder Miss Ives didn’t take orders—or even hints—well.

“Mr. Lockhart has been shot.” With a huff, he pointed to the wound on the back of the man’s head but spared her from seeing the horrible mangle of his face. “Someone shot him, which meant someone wanted him dead and waited for such an opportunity to render him like that.”

“I’m sorry to tell you this, but that is not Mr. Lockhart.”

“What?” Felix gawked at the woman. “Who is he, then?

She kneeled on the grass on the other side of the dead man. “This is Mr. Samuel Blythe, son of Viscount Hartsford.”

“How the devil do you know that? Is he courting you? A lover? An enemy?” It was bad form of him to even ask any of those questions, but he didn’t enjoy being shown up by her, and a stranger at that.

“No need to be rude.” She narrowed her eyes on him, and immediately, those blue pools had the capacity to prove a distraction.

“There was a bit of gossip throughout the female guests that the heir to the Duke of Kingston had been invited to this house party. Well, the heir-presumptive, for the duke died about a month ago—according to my mother—and now his solicitors are frantically hunting for his heir. The duke was an obscure great-uncle to Mr. Lockhart. He has no living sons or grandsons, and both of his daughters only have daughters. He also has no brothers.” Miss Ives shrugged.

“That makes him quite a sensation at this party.”

“Yes, I can just imagine, since there is quite a herd of unmarried and eligible women,” he managed to say around a growl.

“Again, rude.” This time, she openly glared at him. “However, there is one fly in the ointment.”

“Oh? Pray enlighten me.” Why did he feel the urge to needle her?

“This man is not Mr. Lockwood, nor is he the duke’s heir.”

Shocked silence brewed between them.

“And how the deuce do you know that?”

“I like to stay abreast of the new of the world. You should try it sometime, Major Kourier. Then you won’t look like such a dunce.

” From a reticule that matched the purple hue of her gown, she pulled a torn bit from a newspaper.

“I wanted to see for myself if Mr. Lockhart was indeed a duke’s heir because of this. ” She handed him the clipping.

Immediately, the headline screamed at him from printing in all capital letters.

“Missing Heir! Bow Street Hunting for the Heir Presumptive of a Dukedom!”

“Interesting.” Truly, he needed to stay up-to-date on the news of the world. Perhaps he had managed to remain locked away from the world too much.

“Also, there is this.” She tapped a fingernail against the short article that had an illustrated portrait of a young man that bore a resemblance to the man on the ground. “There is a slight difference.”

He frowned, flicked his gaze between them. “How so?”

“See this?” Again, she tapped the portrait. “There is a slight crescent-shaped scar or birthmark over his left eyebrow, just as the duke had, according to the article. The dead man doesn’t have it.” She pointed at the face of the body between them. “That means the duke’s heir is still alive.”

Well, damn.

“Then was this man the killer’s target or was it the duke’s heir?” They looked enough alike for a mistake to have happened, especially if this man was on a rooftop. “What is this building?” He pointed to the structure behind them.

“The icehouse. ”

“How convenient. We’ll store the body there.”

She took the newspaper clipping back, folded it, and then replaced it into her reticule. “What now?”

Despite himself, Felix was impressed. His respect rose for her.

“We must swear each other to secrecy. If most of the party doesn’t know Mr. Lockhart is a duke’s heir, we need to keep it that way for his safety.

The last thing we need is the killer roaming about the house party for the next week, hunting him down. ”

“Presuming Mr. Lockhart was the intended target.”

“Indeed.” He nodded, then frowned once more. “Why were you carrying around the newspaper scrap?”

“No reason, really.” When she shrugged, the bodice of her gown briefly pulled taut over her moderate bosom.

“I enjoy staying informed, so I often read my father’s newspapers when he’s finished.

When there is an interesting article that tickles my brain, I tear it out.

It helps to stretch my mind. I like to try puzzling out the people’s pasts and their secrets.

” A half-grin tugged at her full lips, and his gaze dropped to her mouth.

“No one takes my speculations seriously, but it is fun nonetheless.”

“Interesting.” On many levels. “Yet this man was shot.”

“Indeed, he was.” When she leaned over the body to look more closely at the broken neck, he was afforded a peek down her bodice at her breasts shrouded in lace-edged undergarments. Interest shivered along his shaft. “I wonder who wanted him dead or if this was truly a case of mistaken identity.”

“Who can say? He was young; he could have angered or insulted anyone.” He dropped his voice. “And if he was killed by mistake, it’s even more tragic. The duke’s heir might have been a fish out of water in the Lords, considering he wasn’t raised with the title in mind.”

“Not necessarily. From all accounts, Mr. Lockhart is clever and intelligent. He leans toward progressive ideas.”

One of Felix’s eyebrows rose again. “How do you know that?”

“Most young men entering parliament these days want change, and that directly conflicts with the old men who are within government.”

That made sense, but he refused to give her the satisfaction. Eventually, he stood and offered her a hand. When she slipped her fingers into his palm and he brought her into a standing position, something tingled up his arm to his elbow. “By the by, I am Major Kourier.”

“So I heard earlier, but I’m Miss Ives. Please call me Caroline so as not to confuse me with my sister, Debra. ”

“Of course.” He nodded, and then, because the thought was uppermost in his mind, he asked, “Were you the one who spied on me last night?”

“Oh, dear.” A furious pink blush raged in her face, which only served to highlight the sprinkling of freckles over her upper cheeks and the bridge of her nose. “Yes. I’m so sorry. I should have left immediately, but there was no time.”

“I see.” The distracted part of his brain wanted to know if she’d liked what she saw, but he tamped on the urge to ask such a scandalous question. Instead, he nodded. “Nonetheless, all of this shows you’re not a marriage obsessed woman with cotton between her ears instead of brains.”

“Ah, a compliment. How magnanimous of you, Major.”

A corner of his mouth twitched with the beginnings of a grin, but he didn’t allow it to materialize. “We need a magistrate.”

“Then we are doomed to more disappointment, I’m afraid. Papa said this morning that the magistrate went on holiday yesterday for two months.”

This was rapidly becoming aggravating. He pinched the bridge of his nose, for another megrim was brewing. “Who is the next in line for the position?”

“I think Papa is, but he’s never been one for details or questioning or even investigating.”

Perfect, because why shouldn’t anything be easy? God, I miss London and Bow Street. “Perhaps I’ll speak with him and if he wishes for me to investigate, I will.”

Miss Ives propped her hands on the curve of her hips. “What makes you more qualified to do that than me? After all, you were quite ignorant of the duke’s heir.”

There was that. He huffed out a breath as he bent to retrieve his cane. “I was in the military for years then with Bow Street. I made a living solving crimes in London.”

“I see. That is an impressive claim.”

“It’s not a claim; it’s the truth.”

She waved a hand in dismissal. “If you investigate this case, I’m going to help.”

That would provide more than a few problems for him. “What makes you ideal as an assistant?”

“Since I identified this man, or rather not this man, but the man who was probably supposed to have been killed pending an investigation, I think that qualifies me to be your partner, not an assistant.” She ticked the items off on her fingers.

“Secondly, you are far too taciturn and grumpy to conduct interviews in a manner that will make people warm to you enough to tell the truth. You can guide the investigation, but I will finesse it.” The smile she flashed made him glower.

“And finally, this is my father’s property and manor.

I know it like the back of my hand, which will aid the investigation. ”

Bloody, bloody hell.

Despite himself, he couldn’t argue with the logic. And it would make working the case easier if he had someone to help. “Very well. Let’s go talk with your father, unless you think he’ll cry foul if we’re in each other’s company alone.”

“Ha!” Miss Ives snorted with laughter. “My parents think I’m a spinster. They do their best to ignore me and that fact. I’m certain they won’t mind. Besides, the house party is all about my sister, so that holds more importance than a murder investigation or my reputation.”

Unexpectedly, his chest tightened for her view on her family. “How disturbing and somewhat sad.”

“It is life, Major. We cannot all be popular or even wanted.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Before we go further, I must inform you that I’m not looking to be matched or trapped into marriage.”

The look she leveled on him proclaimed him a nodcock. “Neither am I, and if I was, I wouldn’t choose you.”

“Touché.” This time, a full-fledged grin curved his lips. She returned the gesture. “Well, then, I look forward to knowing you better over the course of the investigation.” And damn if that didn’t surprise the hell out of him.

Clearly, he needed to keep his mind occupied. Nothing more.