For a few months their marriage had been almost normal, except in the marriage bed. He blamed her for his frequent failures there. With every attempt he treated her as if she were some lifeless vessel for his seed, and in truth that was all she felt like. His anger about his impotence infected their whole marriage and turned violent. Eventually life with him became impossible to bear. Yet bear it she did, for too long, because she could see no way out.

She calculated the fees Mrs. Oliver would pay, and how much she could give to the young woman falling asleep at her side.

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Twelve

After two days at Melton Park, joining Nicholas while he rode through the farms and otherwise performed lord of the manor activities, Chase decided it was time to pick up the duties that had brought him down from town.

Since the day was fair, he rearranged the list in his head to take advantage of the bright sun and dry roads. He called for his horse, and sent word to Nicholas that he would probably not return until morning. Before he left he drew the butler aside.

“Has the local magistrate been here since the funeral, to investigate?”

The butler shook his head. “No one has been investigating here, sir.”

“I need you to take a few minutes from your duties and write down which servants accompanied my uncle down from town on his last visit. Also I want to know if he had any visitors, even neighbors. Include everyone who was here for any reason his last three days.”

The butler nodded. “A bad business, sir, if I may say so. Both shocking and sad. No one could have foreseen it.”

“Foreseen it? What do you think happened?”

The butler flushed. “I’m sure I don’t know. I was only referring to his death itself, not—that is to say, I wasn’t implying—”

Of course he was, but to say it would be to invite more questions when one of his duties was to see there were none at all.

There could be only two ways Uncle Frederick went over that parapet. Either he fell by accident. Or he was pushed. So why did he think the butler believed it might have been a third possibility, and the one no one considered—that Uncle Frederick had jumped?

No, he was wrong. One other had considered it. Peel. A conclusion that casts aspersions on your uncle’s good name. He had not paid much attention to that vague allusion, but he now realized just what Peel probably meant.