saw him so angry.’
Walsh’s face remained expressionless. ‘Then what?’
She took a breath. ‘Lord Penford left, but Tinmore followed him outside.’ She swallowed. ‘I heard a cry and I ran outside, too. Lord Tinmore was—was on the pavement.’
‘You did not see him fall?’ Walsh asked, somewhat ominously.
‘I did not.’
He glanced away. ‘And in what position did you find him when you came outside?’
She was confused. ‘I—I—he was at the bottom of the steps.’
Squire Hedges spoke, his voice kinder than the other man’s. ‘This is a delicate question, we do realise, my lady. Mr Walsh means for you to describe the position of your husband’s body. Describe how he looked.’
She closed her eyes, but it only made her see it all again. ‘He—he was on his back, his head to one side in—in a pool of blood.’
‘Where were his arms and hands?’ Walsh asked.
‘Up.’ She raised her arms to demonstrate. ‘Up above his head.’
Walsh nodded. ‘Tell us, ma’am, was your husband ill?’
‘Not that I knew of,’ she responded.
But he had been acting strangely that day. Had he been ill? If so, she never should have left him. Although he always refused to allow her to tend to him when he was ill, so what good would her presence have done?
‘He was acting very unlike himself, though. Very irrational,’ she added.
Walsh’s brows rose. ‘Are you referring to your husband’s suspicion that you and Lord Penford were having an affair?’
She felt her cheeks grow hot. ‘Yes. That. There was no reason for him to think such a thing.’
Tinmore could not have known of her infatuation.
‘Come now, Lady Tinmore,’ Walsh began, in a smooth tone that did not ring true. ‘Lord Tinmore was a very old man and Penford...’ he paused significantly ‘...is not. Why would your husband not believe you engaged in a little dalliance?’
Her face turned hot with anger this time. ‘I promised fidelity to my husband and I kept that promise. Lord Penford has always acted as a gentleman ought. He thought he could explain to my husband that my husband was wrong, but Tinmore would not listen. It was as though Tinmore was crazed.’
Walsh’s brows rose. ‘Crazed? But would not a man who suspected his wife of infidelity act crazed?’
She lifted her chin. ‘I do not know. How would I know of such things?’ Except, perhaps, from the loud arguments between her mother and father before her mother ran off with a lover. ‘I do know I never saw my husband behave that irrationally before.’
Of course, she had never so blatantly defied him before. Why had she done so? She could admit to being weary of his dictates and it was true she wanted to see her sisters, to share Christmas with them.
But was it also true she wanted most to see Dell?
Walsh made an incomprehensible sound.
Did he believe her about Dell? Or not?
‘Do you know for certain that your husband did not scuffle with Lord Penford?’ he asked.
Her jaw stiffened when she tried to answer. ‘I did not see what happened.’
Walsh glanced at Squire Hedges, who stood. ‘Thank you very much, Lady Tinmore. That will be all for now. We will be questioning your servants, as well.’
The servants!
She had completely forgotten. This was Boxing Day. The servants would expect the day off. And their boxes. She was supposed to distribute their boxes. She’d scoured the attics and closets and old linens and had found enough cloth and old clothing to make a box for each family. Tinmore was to have given them money and she was to have stood at his side, handing them each a box.
‘Please do not delay in speaking to them,’ she requested. ‘They expect to have the day off.’
Squire Hedges walked around the desk to escort her to the door. ‘We will move as quickly as possible. Dixon will organise them for us.’
Certainly. Dixon would be pleased to do so, Lorene was sure. He would probably be pleased to tell them what to say, as well.
Squire Hedges opened the door for her and she stepped into the corridor where Dixon still stood on guard, but the area soon filled with other voices. Her sisters and their husbands. And Dell, who looked absorbed in his own thoughts.
‘Tess. Genna. I forgot it was Boxing Day. I do not know where Tinmore put the purses for the servants and tenants.’
‘Filkins will know,’ Genna said. ‘I’ll find him.’
She dashed off, but her husband, the Marquis of Rossdale, heir to the Duke of Kessington, marched right past Dixon, entering the room with the Squire and the coroner.
‘What is he doing?’ Lorene asked, alarmed that Rossdale just barged in on the men.
Glenville, Tess’s husband, answered, ‘He wants to be certain they handle this properly. And as quietly as possible.’
She supposed a future duke would have some influence. It was a good thing to have someone even more important than Earl Tinmore to advocate for her.
And for Dell.
‘Surely they will decide that it was merely a horrible accident,’ she said.
‘Dell tells us there will be an inquest,’ Glenville explained. ‘The coroner will have to find jurors and swear them in. They will have to see where the death occurred and view the body, so you cannot bury your husband until that takes place.’
It all sounded dreadful. She hated thinking of his body lying on his bed for as long as it took to find the jurors. Between Christmastide and winter weather, it could take more than a week.
She glanced at Dell, who leaned against the wall, a scowl on his face. He glanced up at her and his expression changed to something more tender, something like regret in his eyes.
She held his gaze for a moment before glancing away.
* * *
The afternoon was exhausting. Not only the sheer numbers of gifts to distribute, but over and over to hear and accept condolences, to answer questions about what had happened, to attempt to reassure the servants and tenants that Tinmore’s heir, whoever he was, would do right by them.
She really had no idea what would happen to any of them, including herself. She had signed a marriage contract with him, but it stipulated that her sisters receive a handsome dowry, that her half-brother receive funds to purchase an advance in rank, and that she receive a modest living upon his death. As it turned out, neither of her sisters received the dowry, nor did
