They dismounted and when the grooms took the horses away Cal led the way into one of the empty loose boxes in a corner, gesturing for Hooper to follow them.
It took some explaining, working round why Cal had been suspicious of the water in the first place, but the old head groom was nodding intelligently, putting in a question here and there. ‘So you think that’s what killed Mr Ransome then, Your Grace? I did wonder if there hadn’t been some foul play, that he’d brought some danger with him from London. He was not a young man I took to.’
‘Foul play?’ Flynn said. ‘Not directed at Mr Ransome, that’s for sure. It has been going on for years. He drank water meant for the Duke…’
Sophie wasn’t certain, but she thought Hunt kicked Flynn who flinched, then went red and closed his mouth with a snap.
Outside something banged closed and they all went quiet. ‘Looks most likely it was an accident,’ Cal said smoothly when there were no more sounds. ‘But we need it proved, hence the dye. The water will need watching. Easy enough by day, by night we will need lanterns on it and the watchers will need to stay awake, so best make it short shifts of two men. Who can you trust amongst your staff not to gossip?’
‘All of ’em, Your Grace. I’d vouch for the lot of ’em. A bad business this, poisoned water. You could have been killed if he hadn’t drunk it by mistake. Leave it to me and I’ll tell the lads we want to find out where the water goes – they’ll understand we can’t knowingly let it pop up somewhere else, kill livestock, mayhap, or some stranger taking a drink. And they’ll see they can’t speak of it in case one of the neighbours thinks it’s a good idea to blame every dead sheep on our water.’
‘Good man, Hooper. We had best start with a pair up there now, just in case, and keep them changing over every three hours. They will need lanterns…’
Sophie wandered out of the box, too restless to listen to detail. Cal had shown her the stables quickly on their first whirlwind tour and she had promised herself a leisurely stroll around the spacious quadrangle with its big stone water trough in the centre. She had visited less elegantly designed houses before now.
The second stall held a big grey hunter who turned and came to snuffle at her hand when she held it out. ‘You are handsome,’ she told him. He was also rather warm and his saddle was casually dumped on the door of the stall. Her foot tangled with the bridle which must have slid off to the ridged blocks of the floor.
Sophie picked it up, noting the dirty bit. Someone had come in and untacked the horse in haste. She craned to look and saw he had at least got water in his bucket and hay in the net. Perhaps the stable lad had been called away and would be back in a moment.
The sound of men leaving the other loose box drew her back. Hooper went across the yard with his rolling horseman’s gait and called a group of grooms to him. Flynn and Hunt headed back to the house and Cal stood looking round. When he saw her his smile transformed his face, chasing away the bleak look that was beginning to haunt her. ‘There you are. Lord, Sophie, I think you are the only thing keeping me sane here. All these emotions swirling inside me and then there’s you. No emotion, no drama, just clear, frank common sense and friendship.’
She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow and gave his arm a little squeeze. I could give you so much emotion you would not know what had hit you, she thought grimly. I love you, you wretched man, and you can’t see it and I dare not tell you, because what if you are appalled, what if you have to pretend out of pity? What if we have to start lying to each other? I do not think I can do this any more, she thought.
Chapter Twenty Three - Where The Duke Makes a Confession
I must tell him I want to end the engagement. It is the only honourable thing to do, I cannot keep pretending this is all about desire and friendship and a suitable marriage for both of us.
‘Cal,’ Sophie said when they were inside the house, standing at the foot of the great sweep of staircase. ‘What are you going to do? Talk to Lord Peter?’ The whole household needed to be warned about the water sooner or later, but she supposed, knowing him, that his conscience would drive him to seek out his uncle at once.
‘Now? I do not think I can bear to face him, not yet, not with this… revelation about just how wrong I have been about him all these years. I need time, Sophie, time to do it right. Time to decide whether to tell him what I had suspected. Or not.’ He looked down at his hands, still smeared with blue dye, crushed grass and earth. ‘I need to wash and change. And think. I will see you at dinner.’
She watched him climb the stairs, aching for him, and turned away. The peace of the rose garden beckoned. Perhaps sitting there in the scented peace would help her clear her mind.