“Sir!” The butler finally had enough presence of mind to race after them, but by the time he caught up, Aldridge was already opening the door to the dining room at the top of the stairs. Kendra caught the gleam of dark mahogany paneling, and the warm, buttery glow cast from wall sconces, the fireplace, and a scattering of candles on the table. Harris was sitting at one end of a long table, his hand poised to spear a boiled potato from the serving dish that a maid was holding in front of him; Mrs. Harris sat primly at the other end.
The vicar glanced in their direction, frowning at the unexpected intrusion.
“What the devil—?” Seeing the Duke, Harris’s eyebrows hiked and he dropped the fork, rising to his feet.
“The Duke of Aldridge,” the butler announced belatedly behind them.
The Duke strode forward. “I beg your pardon for interrupting your meal, Mr. Harris, ma’am.” He gave a nod at Mrs. Harris. “We’ve come on a matter of great urgency. One of my maids has gone missing.”
Harris frowned. “I don’t understand, sir. Your maid is missing, and you are under the impression that she is here?”
Kendra studied him closely, couldn’t see anything beyond his confusion—or the appearance of confusion. Serial killers were chameleons. They adapted to whatever the situation called for, and lied without batting an eyelash.
“Where were you today, Mr. Harris?” she demanded bluntly. She’d be damned if she’d waste time being polite. Time. They were running out of it.
Harris flicked her a haughty look. “Are you accusing me now of murdering your maid, Miss Donovan? It wasn’t enough for you to insult me yesterday by suggesting that I went about murdering whores?”
“I want to know where you were today. I’m not too concerned if that insults you or not.”
Red tinged his cheekbones. “Your Grace, surely—”
Aldridge cut him off, his tone sharp. “I shall apologize for any insult, but please answer the question, Mr. Harris. Time is a factor here.”
The vicar gave a put-upon sigh and shrugged. He wouldn’t challenge Aldridge, Kendra knew. “I worked in my study in the early morning hours, and then rode over to the King’s Head, where I indulged in a pint. Mr. Hawkings can attest to my whereabouts if my word isn’t good enough for you.” He let that hang for a moment, but when no one contradicted him, he continued, his tone becoming even more brittle. “I returned home, had my midday meal. Later, I went riding.”
“You rode yesterday.”
Harris gave her a look that suggested she was an idiot. “What of it? That does not preclude me riding today, Miss Donovan. I recall pointing out to you yesterday that I ride most afternoons. This afternoon was quite typical, I assure you.”
“Did anyone see you or did you see anyone while you were riding?”
“I have no idea.”
“You don’t know if you saw anyone? What, were you struck by temporary blindness?”
His face tightened at her sarcasm. “You are being impertinent, Miss Donovan, and I do not appreciate it. I did not see anyone. Therefore, I have no idea if anyone observed me.”
“Where did you go riding?”
“The woods, the same as yesterday.”
“What time did you leave the King’s Head?”
“Eleven. Mayhap half past.”
Rose had last been seen around eleven o’clock. “And you came right home?”
“Yes.”
Kendra swung around to face Mrs. Harris, who was watching wide-eyed. “Is that true?”
She gave a frightened squeak. “P-pardon?”
“When did your husband return home today?” Kendra demanded impatiently.
“I shall not have you intimidate my wife, Miss Donovan!” Harris protested.
“I’m only asking her a question. I’ll leave the intimidation to you.” Kendra approached the woman, made sure to shift her body to block the woman’s view of her husband. “Mrs. Harris, what time did your husband return home? Was it eleven or eleven-thi—half past eleven? I need you to be specific.”
“I-I . . . think . . . half past,” she said faintly. “Yes. Yes, it must have been.”
“You need to tell me the truth, Mrs. Harris.”
“How dare you!” the vicar declared.
Mrs. Harris looked on the verge of tears. “B-but I am. I am not lying, I swear!”
“Miss Donovan, I believe we have what we came for,” the Duke said quietly. Kendra threw him a desperate glance. “Come, my dear.” He approached, took her arm, and steered her toward the door.
Kendra looked back at Harris, and thought she saw triumph in his eyes. “I am sorry I could not be of more assistance, sir.”
Asshole, she thought. But that didn’t make him a killer.
Aldridge gave her a concerned look as soon as they were settled once more in the carriage. “A half an hour is not much time to abduct the maid, Miss Donovan,” Aldridge pointed out gently.
“How far is the tavern from the vicarage?”
“By horse, a few minutes.”
“If it’s so close, why’d he take a horse? Why not walk?”
The Duke frowned and shrugged. “’Tis not unheard of, Miss Donovan.”
She supposed he was right. Hell, she’d known people who drove their car across the street rather than walk. Maybe Harris was like that. Or maybe he had another reason.
“And the tavern to the castle?”