Silas snorted and kicked a still-smoldering beam. Two horses out of a stable of nine and twenty. Even Thomas’s last act had been a piss-poor one; he’d managed to save only the pair of nags before succumbing to the flames. The air was thick with the stench of burned meat. Some of the men pulling out the carcasses were gagging, despite the scarves they wore over their mouths. Like little girls they were, whining over the stink and filth.

Silas looked at the remains of the great Granville stables. A heap of smoking debris now. All because of a deranged woman, so Bennet said. A pity she’d taken her own life. It would’ve set a nice example for the local peasants had she been fodder for the hangman. But in the end, perhaps he would’ve thanked the crazy wench. She’d murdered his elder son, which made Bennet his heir now. No more jaunting off to London for that young man. As the heir, he would have to stay at Granville House and learn how to run the estates. Silas curled his upper lip back in a grin. He had Bennet now. The boy might buck and paw, but he knew his duty. The heir to Granville must oversee the estates.

A rider clattered into the yard. Silas nearly choked when he saw who it was. “Get out! Get out, you young cur!” How dare Harry Pye just dance onto Granville land? Silas started for the horse and rider.

Pye dismounted his horse without even looking in his direction. “Out of my way, old man.” He started for the house.

“You!” Fury clogged Silas’s throat. He turned to the gawking workmen. “Seize him! Throw him off my land,

damn you!”

“Try it,” Pye spoke softly behind him.

Several of the men backed up, the cowards. Silas turned and saw that Pye had a long, thin knife in his left hand.

The bounder pivoted in his direction. “How about acting for yourself, Granville?”

Silas stood still, clenching and unclenching his fists. Had he been twenty years younger, he wouldn’t have hesitated. His chest burned.

“No?” Pye sneered. “Then you won’t mind if I have a word with your son.” He ran up the steps to Granville House and disappeared inside.

Filthy, common lout. Silas backhanded the servant nearest him. The man was caught off guard and went down. The other workmen stared at their fellow wallowing in the stable yard muck. One offered his hand to the man on the ground.

“You’re all sacked after this day’s work,” Silas said, and didn’t wait to hear the grumbling behind him.