logical arguments.
Camden circled the house one final time, checking windows and ensuring the patrols were in place. He wished they’d been able to create a useful list of suspects. But while the list of her husband’s lovers Sophia had provided had been sickeningly extensive, all of the women were safely away in London—although it was possible one of them had hired someone. He’d have Huntford look into those when he arrived.
Wicken joined him as he finished his circuit of the house. “Any news, sir?”
Camden shook his head. “How long have you worked at Harding House?”
“Nearly my entire life. Except those few years I served in the army as a young man.”
“Besides Mrs. Ovard, did Lord Harding have relationships with any village women?”
Wicken bent over to pull a weed from the gravel path. “Are there any he didn’t ruin?” He yanked the interloper out by the roots and crushed it in his hand. “This house has never been the main residence of the Hardings. They prefer their estate in Brighton. But they’d come out here about once or twice a year, and whenever they left, there’d be some local girl crying after his carriage. Showing up on the doorstep looking for promised things that we had no way of providing.”
“Could you make me a list?”
Wicken dropped the crushed weed from his hand and brushed dirt from his fingers. “I don’t reckon if I’ll be able to recall everyone.”
Camden stepped around a large oak tree to see how close the branches came to the windows on the upper floors. A curtain twitched and Sophia’s face appeared in a window above him. She was dressed in something white. Or not dressed. Heat surged through him as he thought of her clad in nothing but her shift. “Perhaps Mrs. Haws would know—”
“I’ll check with her, sir, and get right back to you. I know you’re busy, what with your work and watching out for her ladyship,” Wicken said.
A scream echoed through the garden.
Camden bolted into the house, shoving past the butler and grooms, taking the stairs two at a time. Why hadn’t he checked her room? He should have ensured her house was safe before allowing her into it.
Another scream, this time ending in a sob. He followed the sound toward an open door at the end of the corridor. It matched the window he’d seen from below.
“Get back!” Sophia’s voice was panicked but firm.
As Camden reached her room, a maid stumbled from the door directly into him. He had to grab her to keep her from collapsing to the ground, but his attention was already focused inside the room and on whomever Sophia was warning away.
But he couldn’t see anyone.
“Who—”
“Back away. Stay behind me,” she said again. But this time he realized she was talking to him just as she must have been talking to her screaming maid moments ago.
He disregarded her command, stepping to her side.
A quick writhing on the floor halted him. A snake. It stilled again, its beady eyes watching. A black tongue darted out, tasting. It twisted again. Restless. Agitated.
“Get behind me,” he ordered Sophia.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “I think I said that first.” The maid moaned again from the corridor. “Louise has a dislike of all things reptilian.”
So Sophia’s first urge had been to throw herself between the girl and the snake. Did it even occur to her that it should have been the other way around? How could he have thought her a murderer? She was too quick to protect those around her. Camden somehow knew that even if it had been her worst enemy in the room, she would have been the one to step in front.
But even if Sophia didn’t realize she was worth protecting, he did. “Get a blanket from the next room. I’ll throw it over the snake and—”
Wicken pushed past both of them, strode up to the snake, and snatched it up. Grabbing it behind the neck, he ignored the tail lashing around his arm. “How’d this get in here?”
The maid shrieked as
Camden circled the house one final time, checking windows and ensuring the patrols were in place. He wished they’d been able to create a useful list of suspects. But while the list of her husband’s lovers Sophia had provided had been sickeningly extensive, all of the women were safely away in London—although it was possible one of them had hired someone. He’d have Huntford look into those when he arrived.
Wicken joined him as he finished his circuit of the house. “Any news, sir?”
Camden shook his head. “How long have you worked at Harding House?”
“Nearly my entire life. Except those few years I served in the army as a young man.”
“Besides Mrs. Ovard, did Lord Harding have relationships with any village women?”
Wicken bent over to pull a weed from the gravel path. “Are there any he didn’t ruin?” He yanked the interloper out by the roots and crushed it in his hand. “This house has never been the main residence of the Hardings. They prefer their estate in Brighton. But they’d come out here about once or twice a year, and whenever they left, there’d be some local girl crying after his carriage. Showing up on the doorstep looking for promised things that we had no way of providing.”
“Could you make me a list?”
Wicken dropped the crushed weed from his hand and brushed dirt from his fingers. “I don’t reckon if I’ll be able to recall everyone.”
Camden stepped around a large oak tree to see how close the branches came to the windows on the upper floors. A curtain twitched and Sophia’s face appeared in a window above him. She was dressed in something white. Or not dressed. Heat surged through him as he thought of her clad in nothing but her shift. “Perhaps Mrs. Haws would know—”
“I’ll check with her, sir, and get right back to you. I know you’re busy, what with your work and watching out for her ladyship,” Wicken said.
A scream echoed through the garden.
Camden bolted into the house, shoving past the butler and grooms, taking the stairs two at a time. Why hadn’t he checked her room? He should have ensured her house was safe before allowing her into it.
Another scream, this time ending in a sob. He followed the sound toward an open door at the end of the corridor. It matched the window he’d seen from below.
“Get back!” Sophia’s voice was panicked but firm.
As Camden reached her room, a maid stumbled from the door directly into him. He had to grab her to keep her from collapsing to the ground, but his attention was already focused inside the room and on whomever Sophia was warning away.
But he couldn’t see anyone.
“Who—”
“Back away. Stay behind me,” she said again. But this time he realized she was talking to him just as she must have been talking to her screaming maid moments ago.
He disregarded her command, stepping to her side.
A quick writhing on the floor halted him. A snake. It stilled again, its beady eyes watching. A black tongue darted out, tasting. It twisted again. Restless. Agitated.
“Get behind me,” he ordered Sophia.
She glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “I think I said that first.” The maid moaned again from the corridor. “Louise has a dislike of all things reptilian.”
So Sophia’s first urge had been to throw herself between the girl and the snake. Did it even occur to her that it should have been the other way around? How could he have thought her a murderer? She was too quick to protect those around her. Camden somehow knew that even if it had been her worst enemy in the room, she would have been the one to step in front.
But even if Sophia didn’t realize she was worth protecting, he did. “Get a blanket from the next room. I’ll throw it over the snake and—”
Wicken pushed past both of them, strode up to the snake, and snatched it up. Grabbing it behind the neck, he ignored the tail lashing around his arm. “How’d this get in here?”
The maid shrieked as
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