“Thank you,” he said, then turned his attention to the young man in his sister’s employ as his butler turned on his heel. “Tell me what happened, Benjy.”
“Hunting accident, sir,” the lad replied. “Lord Grasmere and Lord Douglas went fox hunting with the dogs and—” he winced “—well, his mare’s leg got twisted and his lordship did not survive the fall.”
Grasmere and his damned hunts. Oliver scrubbed a hand down his face in frustration. “Her ladyship is well?”
“She was abed when I left.” Which did not answer Oliver’s question, and the way the servant said the words made his stomach twist in a knot.
“There’s something you’re not saying.”
“It’s not my place, Lord Prestwood.”
Oh, for the love of God. “If there is something else you think I should know, out with it, man.”
“Well, you see…” Benjy gulped. “Swale doesn’t like the look in Lord Douglas’s eye, sir. And, I don’t either, honestly.”
The look in Douglas Waring’s eye? A wave of dread washed over Oliver. “What are you suggesting?”
The young man shifted back and forth on his feet, and seemed most uncomfortable. “Lord Grasmere had the finest seat of anyone in Westmorland, and…Well, it doesn’t sit right that he should have fallen to his death, twisted mare’s ankle or not.”
Even the most gifted rider could suffer an accident. That didn’t explain the look in Douglas Waring’s eyes after the fact. Was the servant actually suggesting Grasmere’s brother had something to do with his fall? It’s no wonder Benjy looked so nervous. A man of his station didn’t just go around accusing a nobleman of fratricide, not and keep his head firmly attached to his shoulders. “Your confidence is safe with me, Benjy,” Oliver assured him. “But I do need to know, do you think my sister is in some sort of danger?”
The servant directly met Oliver’s gaze, and he knew without a doubt that he’d hit the target right in the middle. “I do hope we’re wrong, sir. But…”
Damn it all. Time was of the essence. “Thank you for finding me. You will ride with our coachman. Yes?”
“Yes, milord. Of course.”
“Ijust heardthe most awful thing,” Hope said, linking her arm with Grace’s as they navigated the tables at Lady Heathfield’sal fresco.
“Awful?” Grace echoed.
Her sister nodded, looking quite suddenly as though she might cry. “Marianne Thorpe said Lord Grasmere died in a hunting accident.”
Grace nearly stumbled. That truly was the last thing she expected to hear that day. “How?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.” Hope blinked back a tear. “Poor Ginny. It’s so awful to lose the man you love.”
“I don’t think she loved him,” Grace muttered only loud enough for her sister to hear.
“What a horrible thing to say!” And Hope sounded on the edge of histrionics. Again.
So Grace stopped walking and pulled her sister to a halt beside her. “I think Ginnylikedhim.” She tried to appease Hope. “I just never got the impression that she was madly in love with him.” But what were the odds one would fall madly in love with a man one’s father picked out? After all, Oliver didn’t love Lady Eloise. Of course the lady in question was all of thirteen. Perhaps he would stop loving Grace one day and end up in love with his intended when she was older. Grace’s stomach tightened at the thought.
“So it’s all right he’s dead, then?” Hope almost squeaked.
“Not what I said at all.” Grace frowned. Heavens her sister could try the patience of a saint. “Just an observation. I think it’s awful the marquess is dead, truly. And to die before the birth of his child is nothing short of tragic.”
“Like Papa with us,” Hope whispered.
Indeed. How different would their lives have been if Papa hadn’t died in that fateful race before they were born? Braden wouldn’t have been tasked with the marquessate at such an early age and Grace, Hope and Patience would have known their father beyond the stories they’d only ever heard about him. Braden and Quent were wonderful surrogates, but they couldn’t completely replace their late-father. And it wasn’t fair to expect them to do so. They’d just been boys themselves at the time. Of course, Oliver would be in a position to help his sister and her child, and the baby couldn’t ask for a better uncle. “At least Ginny will have Lord Prestwood, and…”
…Andthat’swhy Oliver was gone. It had been days since Grace had seen him and until now she’d just assumed he’d finally decided to give her some space, but that wasn’t it at all. He was dealing with something awful. He must have headed straight for Westmorland after getting the news about his brother-in-law.
“And?” Hope prodded.
Grace shook her head. The less she thought about Oliver Ashbee, the better off she’d be. “And I’m certain he’ll take care of everything, But let’s do think about something else, shall we? It’s a beautiful day and we should try to enjoy it if we can.”
Hope nodded in agreement. “The suddenness of it all made me think about Henry,” she said with a wince. “I don’t think I’ll ever get past finding him like that.”