“There was blood on the stones,” Matthew said.
“Not much, but enough to worry me.”
Daniel’s expression hardened.
“Did you see anyone else?”
“A wagon passed toward the east road before sunrise.”
“Did you recognize it?”
Matthew shook his head.
“It had a green canvas cover and a broken lantern.”
Daniel asked three precise questions about the wagon’s tracks, the driver’s coat, and the direction of travel.
Emily watched Matthew’s surprise grow.
This was not the manner of a frightened man who had barely escaped a robbery.
It was the manner of someone accustomed to investigating what other people overlooked.
A carriage rattled into the yard just as Daniel finished speaking.
It was black, well sprung, and drawn by two fine gray horses.
A liveried driver climbed down and opened the door for a silver-haired gentleman in a dark traveling cloak.
The newcomer took one look at Daniel and stopped.
“My lord.”
Daniel’s eyes flashed a warning.
The older man swallowed the rest of his greeting.
“Mr. Vale,” he corrected himself.
“I received word that you had been injured.”
Emily looked from one man to the other.
“My lord?” she repeated.
Daniel’s face was unreadable.
“An old habit of his.”
The silver-haired gentleman stared at him in astonishment.
Then the kitchen door slammed open.
Arthur Harrington emerged in his dressing gown, followed by Lady Harrington in a hastily tied shawl.
He looked at the carriage first.
Then he looked at the silver-haired gentleman.
Recognition drained the color from his cheeks.
“Mr. Ashcombe?”
The newcomer bowed stiffly.
“Lord Harrington.”
Arthur tried to smile.
“What brings the managing partner of Ashcombe and Bell to my humble home?”
Mr. Ashcombe glanced toward Daniel.
“That depends upon what has happened here.”
Arthur followed his gaze.
A terrible understanding began to form, though it was not yet complete.
Daniel took the loaf from beneath his arm and handed it back to Emily.
“You will need this more than I do.”
“Who are you?” she whispered.
He met her eyes.
“Someone who owes you an explanation.”
Arthur stepped forward, suddenly deferential.
“Surely there has been some misunderstanding.”
Mr. Ashcombe looked at Daniel’s torn coat and bandaged forehead.
His voice became very quiet.
“Did this household refuse you shelter, Your Grace?”
Clara, who had appeared in the doorway behind her mother, gave a small choking sound.
Emily did not move.
Daniel looked at Ashcombe with undisguised irritation.
“I had intended to introduce myself when the circumstances were less theatrical.”
But the title had already reached everyone in the yard.
