The Dowager Countess (The Saga of Wolfbridge Manor Book 2), Sahara Kelly [best thriller novels to read txt] 📗

“Mr Jack, Mr Robert. Did you find him?”

They doffed their caps and gave her a brief bow.

“We did, m’Lady,” said Mr Jack. “We was comin’ along ‘ere lookin’ fer any broken branches. Them’s as might fall on persons walkin’ this way, like.”

“Found a few of ‘em, Ma’am. Pulled ‘em down. We’ll be lettin’ ‘em dry and then cuttin’ ‘em up fer firewood, yer see.” Mr Robert gestured behind him, and sure enough there was a small pile of broken branches, ready to have their leaves stripped.

Gwyneth nodded. “I see.” She looked at Giles.

“Let’s look at him, then, lads.”

Mr Robert leaned down and carefully drew the old blanket away.

Gwyneth swallowed. The man lay face down, his head bloody and battered. But the rest of him seemed to be in one piece—clearly the attack to his head had been violent and fatal.

“You didn’t hear a shot or anything suspicious?” She looked at the two farmers.

“Nay, Ma’am. We ain’t ‘eard nothin’.”

Giles knelt beside the man. “They wouldn’t have,” he remarked.

“Why?” Jeremy released Gwyneth’s hand and moved to stand next to Giles.

“He’s been dead for some time, I would guess.” He picked up a twig and gently touched some of the more unpleasant spots.

Gwyneth swallowed again and turned away, holding herself together by a thin string of control.

“See how this has dried?”

“Ah, yes. I see what you mean.” Jeremy’s voice was not as steady as usual. “So he must have been killed possibly last night?”

“I can’t say,” answered Giles. “But I can say he’s been here for at least twelve hours or so. The ground beneath him is dry. We had some rain just around midnight. Thus he was lying here already at that time.”

She closed her eyes for a moment and prayed that whoever he was, he’d found peace. Those thoughts gave her enough strength to turn back. “Can you identify him, Giles?”

Giles stood. “Not from his face, no. For obvious reasons. But…” He walked down the length of the body. “I can say he’s very well dressed. His boots are almost spotless, and I’d swear that jacket has the style of Weston’s latest. It’s either an original, in which case very expensive, or a copy…even so, not cheap.”

“Giles, would you mind removing his right boot?”

She could see Giles’s eyes turn to her in confusion, even before his brows narrowed into a frown. “What?”

“His right boot, please.”

Awkwardly, Giles did so, handling the leg with caution. It was a snug fit, but he finally managed to tug it free. “I have it, my Lady…”

“Look inside the band. See if the maker’s name is there?” She paused. “If the name is Bernetten, then see if you can loosen the heel.”

“Good God.” She heard Giles’s whisper of surprise. “It’s…yes, it’s open. And there is a note inside, along with some coins.”

Gwyneth sighed. “In that case, it is most likely Baron Randschen. The one thing I recall about our first meeting is overhearing the conversation about those boots. All the Prussian gentlemen favoured them at one time. A good idea never goes out of style.”

“That’s an excellent confirmation, my Lady.” Giles glanced at Jeremy. “Can you add anything? See anything that looks familiar?” He turned the piece of paper over in his hand. “The note tells me nothing. Just a set of letters and a time.” He tucked it into his pocket.

“I hate to ask, but if you could turn him over…” Jeremy’s voice held steady now.

“We probably should anyway. Can you give me a hand, lads? I’ll take his shoulders, you take his legs. Easy now…”

Gwyneth watched from a distance as they rolled the body onto its back. She shuddered at the red mess where his head should have been, but there had been enough time to prepare herself for the worst. Even so, she was happy that the two men left a bit of blanket over the worst of it.

Jeremy gave a little groan, but bravely examined what was left. And his head rose quickly as he nodded to Giles. “It’s Randschen. Look here.” He was pointing at something and Gwyneth couldn’t restrain the impulse to see what it was.

“This small pin. The deer antlers. I believe they’re Chamois deer antlers. That animal is native to Prussia and much prized as a hunting trophy I’m told.”

“You know this because…”

“The man I killed was wearing one. It snagged on Miss Susannah’s gown. I had to tear her lace to free her from it.”

Gwyneth moved to his side and once again took his hand. He gripped hers this time, and she held on, knowing they drew strength from each other.

Giles shook his head. “That’s definite then. Baron Randschen is dead.” He moved to Jeremy and Gwyneth. “Go back to the Manor. You can do no more here. I shall go with these fine lads and summon the authorities.”

Gwyneth nodded and turned, a little unsteady on her feet and still somewhat stunned by this unpleasant turn of events. She brushed against a rhododendron and almost fell—Jeremy caught her just in time.

“Gwyneth…are you all right?”

She nodded and looked down. “I tripped over something. A root perhaps…” Moving one foot she stirred the leaves beneath the shrub. “Oh God…”

There, lying crosswise where her foot had disturbed it, was a rifle.

Giles and Jeremy looked at each other.

She didn’t need words to understand where their thoughts were going. Hers were going there as well. She looked back along the path to the lawn. “He came this way, didn’t he?” She moved back out to solid ground and linked her arm tightly through Jeremy’s. “He came along here, with his gun, shot at us in the ballroom, then returned, leaving his rifle here under the bush. That way if he saw anyone,