The Leopard Prince
Bennet started to speak. Harry shook his head.
“It takes a hard heart to not care that others are hurt along the way to getting at the lord.” Mistress Humboldt tapped a shaking finger on her knee to punctuate her point. “A hard heart and a brave one as well. Lord Granville is the law and the fist in this county, and whoever goes against him is gambling their very life.”
“Who fits your description, Nanny?” Bennet leaned forward impatiently.
“I can think of two men that answer, at least in parts.” She wrinkled her brow. “But neither are quite right.” She raised her teacup to her lips with a wavering hand.
Bennet shifted in his chair, jiggled one leg up and down, and sighed.
Harry leaned forward in his own chair and selected a scone.
Bennet shot him an incredulous glare.
Harry raised his eyebrows as he bit into the scone.
“Dick Crumb,” the old woman said, and Harry lowered the scone. “A while back, his sister, Janie, the one who’s weak in the head, was seduced by the lord. A terrible thing, preying on that child-woman.” The corners of Mistress Humboldt’s mouth crumpled in a frown. “And Dick, when he found out, why, he nearly lost his head. Said he’d have killed him had it been any man but the lord. Would have, too.”
Harry frowned. Dick hadn’t said he’d threatened Granville’s life, but then what man would? Surely that by itself…
Mistress Humboldt held out her cup, and Bennet silently poured tea for her and placed the cup back in her hand.
“But,” she continued, “Dick isn’t a mean man. Hard, yes, but not hard-hearted. As for the other man—Mistress Humboldt looked in Bennet’s direction—“perhaps it’s best to let sleeping dogs lie.”
Bennet seemed bewildered. “What sleeping dogs?”
Will stopped eating. He looked between Bennet and the old woman. Damn. Harry had a feeling he knew what Mistress Humboldt was getting at. Perhaps it would be better to leave it alone.
Bennet caught some of Harry’s unease. He leaned forward tensely, his elbows on his knees, both heels tapping now. “Tell us.”
“Thomas.”
Shit. Harry looked away.
“Thomas who?” It seemed to hit Bennet all at once. He stopped moving for a second, then exploded out of the chair, pacing in the tiny space before the fire. “Thomas, my brother?” He laughed. “You can’t be serious. He’s a… a milksop. He wouldn’t say nay to Father if he told him the sun rose in the west and he shat pearls.”
The old woman compressed her lips at the profanity.
“I’m sorry, Nanny,” Bennet said. “But Thomas! He’s lived under my father’s thumb so long he has calluses on his buttocks.”
“Yes, I know.” In contrast to the young man, Mistress Humboldt was calm. She must have expected his reaction. Or maybe she was simply used to his constant movement. “That’s exactly why I name him.”
Bennet stared.
“But even so, he’d never…” Bennet’s words trailed off, and he abruptly turned away.
Mistress Humboldt looked sad. “He might. You know it yourself, Master Bennet. The way your father has treated him shows. He’s like a tree trying to grow through a crack in a rock. Twisted. Not quite right.”
“But—”
“Do you remember the mice he’d catch sometimes when he was a boy? I found him once with one he’d caught. He’d cut off it’s feet. He was watching it try to crawl.”
“Oh, Jesus,” Bennet muttered.
“I had to kill it. But then I couldn’t punish him, poor lad. His father beat him enough already. I never saw him again with a mouse, but I don’t think he stopped. He just got better at hiding it from me.”
“We don’t have to pursue this,” Harry said.
Bennet swung around, his eyes desperate. “And what if he is the sheep poisoner? What if he kills someone else?”
His question hung in the air. No one could answer it but Bennet.
He seemed to realize it was up to him. He squared his broad shoulders. “If it is Thomas, he’s murdered a woman. I need to stop him.”
Harry nodded. “I’ll talk to Dick Crumb.”
“Fine,” Bennet said. “You’ve helped us, Nanny. You see things nobody else does.”
“Maybe not with my eyes anymore, but I always could read a person.” Mistress Humboldt held out a wavering hand to her former charge.
Bennet grasped it.
“God save and protect you, Master Bennet,” she said. “It’s not an easy task you have.”
Bennet leaned down to kiss the withered cheek. “Thank you, Nanny.” He straightened and clapped Will on the shoulder. “We best be going, Will, before you finish those last two scones.”
The old woman smiled. “Let the lad take the rest. It’s been so long since I had a boy to feed.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Will stuffed the scones into his pockets.
She saw them to the door and stood and waved as they rode away.
“I’d forgotten how sharp Nanny is. Thomas and I could never get anything past her.” Bennet’s face darkened when he spoke his brother’s name.
Harry glanced at him. “If you want, you can put off talking to Thomas until tomorrow, after I’ve sounded out Dick Crumb. I’ll have to wait until nightfall to find him, anyway. Best time to catch Dick is at the Cock and Worm after ten o’clock.”
They rode for a half mile or more in silence, Will clinging behind Bennet.
“So once we find whoever’s doing this,” Bennet said, “you’ll be leaving?”
“That’s right.” Harry watched the road ahead but could feel the other man’s gaze on him.
“I was under the impression that you and Lady Georgina had an… uh… understanding.”
Harry gave Bennet a look that usually shut a man up. Not him. “Because, I mean, it’s a bit thick, what? A fellow just up and leaving a lady.”
“I’m not from her class.” “Yes, but that obviously doesn’t matter to her, does it? Or she’d never have taken up with you in the first place.”
“I—” “And if you don’t mind me being blunt, she must be pretty gone on you.” Bennet looked him up and down as if he were a side of spoiled beef. “I mean, you don’t exactly have the sort of face that women swoon over. More in my line, that.”
“Bennet—” “Not to blow my own horn, but I could tell you quite a tale of a delectable bird in London—”
“Bennet.”
“What?”
Harry nodded at Will, who was wide-eyed and listening to every word.
“Oh.” Bennet coughed. “Quite. Shall I see you tomorrow, then? We’ll meet and exchange information.”
They had neared a copse of trees that marked where the main road crossed the lane they traveled on.
“Fine.” Harry pulled his mare to a halt. “This is where I must turn off, anyway. And Bennet?”
“Yes?” He turned his face and the sun fell full upon it, tracing the laugh lines around his eyes.
“Be careful,” Harry said. “If it is Thomas, he’ll be dangerous.”
“You be careful as well, Harry.”
Harry nodded. “Godspeed.”
Bennet waved and rode off.
Harry spent the rest of the daylight hours laying low. When dusk fell, he made his way to West Dikey and the Cock and Worm. He ducked his head as he entered and scanned the crowd from under his low hat brim. A table of farmers, smoking clay pipes in the corner, burst into boisterous laughter. A weathered-looking barmaid dodged with practiced ease a heavy hand aimed at her rump and made her way to the counter.
“Dick in tonight?” Harry bawled in her ear. “Sorry, luv.” She pivoted and shouldered a tray of drinks. “Maybe later.”
The boy slid Harry his mug of ale, and Harry rolled a few coins back. He moved over and took a sip as the traveler came to the counter.
“Pardon me, but do you know the way to Woldsly Manor?”
Harry froze for a second, his mug at his lips. The stranger hadn’t paid him any attention; he was leaning over the counter to the boy.
“Say again?” the boy shouted. “Woldsly Manor,” the stranger raised his voice. “Lady Georgina Maitland’s estate. I’m an intimate of her younger sister, Lady Violet. I can’t seem to find the road—”
The boy’s gaze darted to Harry.
Harry clapped his hand on the other’s shoulder, making the stranger start. “I can show you the way, friend, soon as I finish my ale.”
The man turned, his face brightening. “Would you?” “No problem at all.” Harry nodded at the boy. “Another pint for my friend here. I’m sorry, didn’t catch your name?”
“Wentworth. Leonard Wentworth.” “Ah.” Harry suppressed a feral smile. “Let’s find a table, shall we?” As the other man turned, Harry leaned over the counter and murmured urgent instructions to the boy, then passed him a coin.
An hour later, when the middle Maitland brother strolled into the Cock and Worm, Wentworth was on his fourth pint. Harry had been nursing his second for some time now and felt as if he needed a bath. Wentworth had been quite forthcoming about bedding a fifteen-year-old, his marriage hopes, and what he would do with Lady Violet’s money once he got his hands on it.
So it was with some relief that Harry spotted the red Maitland hair. “Over here,” he shouted at the newcomer.
He’d only spoken to Lady Georgina’s middle brother once or twice, and the man hadn’t been all that friendly. But all of Maitland’s animosity was reserved for Harry’s companion at the moment. He made his way to them with a look that would’ve sent Wentworth running, had be been sober.
“Harry.” The redheaded man nodded at him; only then did Harry remember his name: Oscar.
“Maitland.” Harry nodded. “Like you to meet an acquaintance of mine, Leonard Wentworth. Says he seduced your younger sister this last summer.”
Wentworth paled. “Now w-w-wait a—” “Really?” Oscar drawled. “Indeed,” Harry said. “He’s been telling me about his debts and how her dowry will help settle them, once he’s blackmailed her into marriage.”
“Interesting.” Oscar grinned. “Perhaps we should discuss this outside.” He took one of Wentworth’s arms.
“May I assist you?” Harry asked. “Please.”
Harry took the other. “Uhh!” was all Wentworth got out before they frog-marched him through the doors.
“I’ve got a carriage over here.” Oscar was no longer smiling.
Wentworth whimpered.
Oscar casually cuffed him over the head and Wentworth subsided. “I’ll take him to London and my brothers.”
“Do you need my help on the road?” Harry asked. Oscar shook his head. “You’ve got him pretty far gone with drink. He’ll sleep most of the way.”