There was no answer and no one in the room, she saw as the door swung open. The bed was also made with no sign that a sick man had just risen from it. Frowning, Christiana turned to leave, but paused with a start when she found the man in question standing behind her.

“Oh, Freddy! You gave me a start. I was just going to ask you to come to the office for a minute,” she said nervously, one hand at her throat.

“Yes, I know,” Freddy said grimly, moving forward.

Christiana stepped back to avoid his running her down, but paused abruptly as she realized that she was moving further into the room. Not comfortable, she started to move around him then, suddenly desperate to get back out into the hall , but Freddy quickly blocked her exit, slammed the door closed and locked it with a definitive click.

Chapter Seventeen

Do you know that fellow?” Richard asked. They’d just pulled up in front of the townhouse and Richard had been about to open the door to get out when he’d noted a man pacing back and forth on the path leading to his front door. The gentleman would walk toward the house as if to seek entrance, stop, shake his head and walk away from it, only to pause halfway to the gate and turn back to approach the door again. The fellow was well dressed, with gray hair, and a hat and cane, but his noble appearance was belied by the fact that he appeared to be talking to himself as he repeated the bizarre behavior.

“He looks vaguely familiar,” Daniel said, leaning to peer out the window as well. “He seems a little troubled about something.”

“Grand.” Richard sighed, opening the door to get out. “More trouble at my door.”

“You do seem to attract it of late,” Daniel said dryly as he followed him out of the carriage.

“Hmmm,” Richard muttered, and headed up the path. When he reached the fellow, the man had again approached the door and stopped to peer at it as if it were some insurmountable mountain he dearly wished to climb. Richard was about to tap him on the shoulder to get his attention, when the fellow shook his head again, muttered under his breath and turned abruptly, then leapt several steps back as he found Richard standing there. Richard raised his eyebrows, but asked politely, “Is there something I can assist you with, sir?”

“What?” the man asked with disbelief.

“I am Richard Fairgrave, Earl of Radnor,” he offered, holding out one hand. “Can I be of assistance?”

The gentleman peered down at his hand as if it were a snake and then scowled at him grimly. “Surely you jest, my lord. After all you have cost me with your shady dealings, you think to act like you do not know me?”

Richard let his hand drop to his side, his eyes narrowing. This was obviously someone his brother had known and had dealings with. And someone not happy with those dealings, which put him on the list of suspects who might have wanted Dicky-George dead. So far it was a list of one, the man before him.