He wiped his palms on his grimy beige homespun pants, looking nervous. “Aye. Mayhap I heard something. About a doxy being found in the lake. I dunno anythin’. I had nothing to do with it.”
“I didn’t say that you did. But you live near the river. Somebody dumped the body in the river. Maybe you saw something, someone in the area.”
“Nay. I don’t know nothin’.”
Alec considered him carefully. “If you did know something, Thomas, you would tell me or His Grace, wouldn’t you?”
“Aye.” His Adam’s apple bobbed. “May I go, sir? I know nothin’.”
Alec exchanged a look with Kendra, then nodded. “All right, Thomas. If we need you, we’ll send for you.”
He didn’t wait, bolting back into the forest.
Kendra stared after him. “He’s hiding something.”
“Most likely the lice in his hair.” Alec lifted a mocking brow. “I thought you were of the mind the murderer was one of my ilk? Not our poor hermit—and when I use the word poor, I mean it most literally. Thomas doesn’t have two coins to rub together. And while I suppose women are sometimes drawn to the brooding artist, a Bird of Paradise has, shall we say, a bit more pragmatic disposition.”
“I’m not saying he killed the girl. I’m saying that he’s lying now. Or holding back.”
“Why would he lie? If he saw something, why not tell us? I gave him the opportunity.”
“In my experience, people like Thomas often don’t like to get involved. Especially if it’s his word against . . . one of your ilk.”
“Exactly what is your experience, Miss Donovan?”
Instead of answering—and what could she say, really?—Kendra swung around and began walking. She was caught off guard when Alec grabbed her arm. He looked grim.
“You haven’t answered my question. What do you have to hide, Miss Donovan?”
Oh, just a little thing like dropping in from the twenty-first century, she thought, and had to squelch the bubble of hysterical laughter that rose in her throat. Instead, she said in her most neutral tone, “I know what I’m doing. You need to trust me.”
“As you trust me? You think I could be a murderer.” He laughed without any amusement at her start of surprise. “You said the murderer was someone in my class, someone familiar with the area, someone who has the means to hire a London light-skirt and bring her to the country.”
“I never accused you.”
He gave her a wry look. “Not out loud, no. But you’ve certainly considered the possibility, have you not?”
Kendra stared at him warily.
His mouth twisted, and he lifted a finger, skimming the silky wedge of hair that swung against her jaw to the delicate jaw itself.
Kendra forced herself to stand still, again taken aback by the awareness that hummed between them. This was far more dangerous than if she thought him a murderer—a murderer she could handle.
“Tell me, Miss Donovan. Isn’t it rather perilous for you to be out here with me, in the woods all alone?”
“I can take care of myself.” She was pleased her voice was steady. Her knees certainly were not.
He smiled slowly. “Yes, I saw that myself. Who taught you that little trick you used on poor Thomas?”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. It was a relief when she heard approaching footsteps. Alec heard them too, and dropped his hand, his expression once again becoming indecipherable as Kenneth Morland came along the path.
He hesitated when he saw them. “Ah, Sutcliffe . . . I was told you’d returned to the lake. I didn’t realize you were here with Miss Donovan.” He flicked a look at Kendra, then dismissed her. “Did you discover anything else?”
His question was directed at Alec, but Kendra answered. “I found a hermit.”
Morland shifted his attention back to her. “A hermit, you say?”
“Miss Donovan had an encounter with the countess’ ornamental hermit. He attempted to terrorize her, but she ended up terrorizing him.”
“I didn’t realize his job was to leap out of bushes,” she muttered.
Morland laughed. “Oh, I see. All in good fun, of course. My mother had a fancy for one years ago, but my grandfather refused. Not that it’s easy to hire one. Not a lot of hermits lying about, you understand. Especially with all the stipulations imposed on them.”
Kendra had to ask, “What sort of stipulations?”
“I heard when Sir Jeremy Pellman hired an ornamental hermit for Pellman Park, he was required to grow out his hair and fingernails and to restrict his speech to growling and cursing at the guests. Sir Jeremy promised to pay him seven hundred pounds if he lasted the length of the contract, which, if I am not mistaken, was seven years. I heard Sir Jeremy sacked him after two months, when he learned his hermit spent his afternoons in the village pub.”
“You’re joking.”
“I most certainly am not!”