paper, pen and ink in front of him. The other man, taller, thinner with dark assessing eyes, stood at his side.
‘Lady Tinmore and Lord Penford,’ Dixon announced in a voice tinged with disdain.
The gentleman behind the desk stood and walked around to greet them. ‘Come in. Come in.’ He spoke as if inviting them for tea.
Lorene walked up to him. ‘Squire Hedges. Do you remember me? I was Miss Lorene Summerfield, now Lady Tinmore. You were frequently a guest in my father’s house.’
‘Ah, yes, indeed I remember you,’ he replied with an engaging smile. ‘But you were in a pinafore last I saw you. Your father and I were indeed fast friends...for many years until he...but never mind that. I was sorry to lose him.’ The Squire seemed to collect himself and his expression sobered. ‘May I express my condolences? For the loss of your husband, I mean. Not your father.’
‘I do understand, sir.’ She made a nervous glance to the other man.
Dell had heard of Squire Hedges, a local landowner. Was he the magistrate? He would have known Tinmore, perhaps for decades. Who, then, was the other man?
Lorene turned to Dell. ‘Lord Penford, may I present Squire Hedges. The magistrate here.’ She again addressed herself to the Squire. ‘Lord Penford inherited Summerfield House.’
Dell bowed. ‘Squire.’
The man bowed in return. ‘I intended to call upon you, sir. Forgive the omission. Busy, you know. Time gets away from a person.’
‘Yes, it does.’ Dell pointedly looked at the other man.
‘Oh.’ The Squire stepped over to the stranger. ‘Allow me to present Mr Walsh. He is the coroner.’
‘The coroner?’ Lorene’s brows rose, but she collected herself. ‘Oh, yes. Lord Penford said there would be a coroner.’
‘Must call in the coroner, my lady,’ Squire Hedges explained. ‘Not a natural death and all that.’
The coroner bowed. ‘My lady. Lord Penford.’
‘Sir,’ Lorene responded.
The Squire smiled at her, sobered again, cleared his throat and clapped his hands together. ‘Well! I suppose we should proceed, should we not?’ He walked back to the chair behind the desk.
‘Lady Tinmore.’ Mr Walsh spoke up in a deep voice with little modulation. ‘Perhaps you would be good enough to leave the room while we speak to Lord Penford?’
Squire Hedges smiled again. ‘We will call you forthwith.’
A worry line formed between her eyes before she curtsied and left the room.
The Squire gestured with his finger. ‘Please sit, sir.’
Dell took a step closer to the desk. ‘I would prefer to stand. I have no objection to you sitting, though.’ His years in the army taught him it was better to stand when facing a man who might have power over him.
The Squire lifted his shoulders and sat, folding his hands in front of him on the desk. Mr Walsh remained standing.
Dell waited for one of them to speak.
The Squire cleared his throat again. ‘Uh...suppose you tell us what happened?’
Dell glanced from one man to the other. ‘First tell me what you have heard already.’
Had Dixon already spoken to them? he meant.
Squire Hedges picked up the pen and rolled it in his fingers.
‘We interviewed Dixon, the butler,’ Mr Walsh answered, which told Dell very little.
Dell straightened and gave each man a steely glance. ‘You spoke to the butler before me?’ To speak to a servant before a member of the aristocracy was a breach of proper conduct.
Squire Hedges tapped the feather pen on the desk. ‘Well, he greeted us in the hall, you see. Expedient to talk to him first.’
By Dixon’s design, Dell was certain. Dell stared at the Squire, until he squirmed in his seat.
Still holding his gaze steady, Dell spoke. ‘What did the butler tell you?’
Hedges looked even more uncomfortable.
‘He believes you pushed Lord Tinmore to his death,’ Walsh said.
Dell turned to Walsh and spoke in a firm, no-nonsense tone. ‘You have placed me at a disadvantage by speaking to Dixon first, but I assure you I did not push Lord Tinmore to his death.’
Walsh shrugged. ‘Then tell what did happen.’
Dell answered, ‘Lord Tinmore attempted to strike me with his cane. I seized it to fend off the attack. He abruptly let go, put his hands to his head and staggered backwards. He lost his footing on the steps. I attempted to catch him, but he fell down the steps to the paving stones below.’
‘You did not push him?’ Walsh asked.
‘No. I merely seized his cane.’
Walsh’s brows rose. ‘And why did he try to strike you with a cane?’
Of course the man would ask this question. ‘He quarrelled with me. I was attempting to leave when he came after me, following me out of the house. That is when he tried to strike me.’
‘What was the quarrel about?’
Dell anticipated this question, much as he detested having to answer it. This coroner, though, would notice any hesitation in responding.
Dell met the man’s gaze. ‘Lord Tinmore believed Lady Tinmore and I to be engaging in an affair. It was not true. I attempted to convince him of that fact. When he would not listen to reason, I tried to leave. That is why he was outside with me without a topcoat, trying to strike me with his cane.’
‘Without a topcoat.’ Squire Hedges dipped the pen in some ink and made a note. He looked up again. ‘It was not true? The affair, I mean?’
Dell bristled. He’d already said it was not true. ‘Not true. I merely escorted Lady Tinmore home from Summerfield House. She and the Earl were invited for Christmas Day. He declined at the last minute, but Lady Tinmore came to spend the day with her sisters, who, with their husbands, were my guests. They are at Tinmore Hall now,’ he added. ‘Lord and Lady Rossdale. Mr and Mrs Glenville.’
‘I will speak to them,’ Walsh declared.
Would he believe them, though, when they told him there was no affair?
Walsh looked askance. ‘Why did Tinmore decline the invitation?’
‘I do not know why.’ How could Dell speak for Tinmore?
‘Why did he believe you and Lady Tinmore were...’ he paused and his voice dipped even deeper ‘...having an affair?’
‘I
