The Viscount Always Knocks Twice by Grace Callaway
Chapter Thirty-Six
It took Richard three hours to track down Parnell. After carousing all night at the fair, the bastard had apparently taken off with some local rakehells to a neighboring village. There, he continued his rabble-rousing at the public house before going home with one of his newfound friends and a barmaid with a salacious reputation.
Richard now approached the address he’d been given by the proprietor of the public house. Raising his fist, he banged on the door until a groaning voice emerged from inside.
“Bloody hell, I’m coming. Stop that infernal racket—”
The door opened to reveal a puffy-eyed fellow, his blond hair standing up in disordered tufts. He wore a stained dressing gown that he’d clearly just thrown on.
He glared blearily at Richard. “Who the devil are you?”
“I’m here for Parnell.”
“Don’t know any Parnell, so you’d better toddle off—”
Richard inserted his boot to prevent the door from closing. He gave the wooden barrier a shove, causing the other to stumble back and out of his way. He strode into the small cottage, grabbing a taper off a side table to light the way. There were only two bedchambers, and he found Parnell in the second one.
The bastard was naked in bed with a voluptuous brunette—the barmaid, no doubt. Both were snoring. Next to her was a third pillow with an indentation still upon it.
Richard set down the lamp and shook Parnell’s shoulder. “Get up, you bastard.”
Parnell smacked his lips, his eyes still shut.
The blond man came marching in. “This is my house, and you’re trespassing—”
Richard swatted the other out of his way and went to the washing stand. Finding the ewer full, he returned and dumped the contents over Parnell.
Parnell jolted upright, swearing. “Wh-what the devil?”
The barmaid turned onto her other side, still snoring.
“Did you give Violet the poison?” Richard growled.
Clearly still three sheets to the wind, Parnell stared at him with bloodshot eyes.
“Carlisle? That you?” he said, slurring. “What in blazes are you doing here?”
“Did you give Violet the poison?” Grabbing hold of the other’s shoulders, Richard gave a forceful shake.
“Poison? What poison?” Parnell groaned. “For the love of God, stop that manhandling, or I’ll cast my accounts.”
Richard pinned the other against the headboard. “I’ll snap your bloody head off if you don’t confess the truth. Goggs told me anyway. You were the one who bought Violet the cider.”
“I didn’t buy her anything,” Parnell protested. “Old bacon-brains mixed things up as usual. He was the one who bought Violet the drink.”
Richard’s insides went cold. “You’re lying. You drugged her.”
“Drugged? What are you… oh.” Unholy glee lit Parnell’s eyes. “Is that why the two of you were caught making the beast with two backs in broad daylight?”
“So it was you.” Richard slammed the other’s head against the wood.
“Ouch! Stop that. I wouldn’t stoop to using the stuff—do I look like I need to?” Parnell gestured to his bedpartners. “I ain’t desperate like Goggs.”
Richard froze. “Goggs?”
“How d’you think he gets all those tavern wenches to sleep with him? He thinks it’s his little secret,”—the lordling smirked—“but I figured it out ages ago. Why on earth would he drug Violet, I wonder?”
Pulse racing, Richard grabbed clothes off a nearby chair and tossed them at Parnell. “Get dressed. We’re leaving now.”
~~~
Richard arrived back at the estate an hour before dawn. The journey would have been quicker had Parnell not needed to retch twice on the way back. He dragged the pale-faced bastard up the steps into the main atrium. Despite the early hour, Kent was there, conferring with McLeod.
Richard hesitated. Had the Blackwoods succeeded in smoothing the way with the investigator?
Kent’s keen gaze shot to Richard. “We found the lovers.”
“Pardon?” Richard didn’t follow.
“The lovers Wormleigh overheard in the library—turns out he was telling the truth about them. MacLeod here accomplished what three of the magistrate’s men couldn’t. He tracked down the purchase of a pair of tickets to Gretna to a station two villages away. The tickets were sold a week ago to a Mr. and Mrs. Cedric Burns.”
“They were supposed to leave the morning that the de Brouet woman was killed. According to the ledger, the couple didn’t show for their journey,” McLeod said. “The tickets went unused.”
“At first Burns refused to say anything,” Kent went on, “but somehow Amelia Turbett got wind that we were interrogating him, and she rushed to her lover’s rescue.”
Richard’s head jerked. “Miss Turbett, you say?”
Kent nodded. “Apparently she and Burns have been carrying on in secret for months. She told us everything. How Monique overheard her and Burns in the library. Threatened to blackmail them. One thing led to another, and Miss Turbett pushed Monique into the fireplace. An accident, she claimed. She and Burns thought she’d killed Monique so they panicked, called off their elopement plans, and tried to wait things out.”
Richard’s head spun. “They have the necklace?”
“Burns claims he knows nothing about stolen jewelry,” Kent said. “We searched all of his and Miss Turbett’s belongings and found nothing.”
“Our theory is that someone else came upon Monique in the library,” McLeod added. “Saw the necklace and stole it, smothering Monique in the process.”
“We need to question Goggs,” Richard said sharply.
Kent frowned. “Goggston? Why—”
Richard gave a rapid-fire summary of what he’d discovered about the drugged cider.
“What is more, Goggs is swimming in debts,” he said in grim tones. “Parnell confirmed that both he and Goggs have been dodging moneylenders for the past year. Parnell has his papa to fall back on, but he says Goggs’ father cut him off months ago. Goggs is in desperate straits.”
“So he had motive to steal the necklace—to take it from Monique by any means necessary.” Cursing, Kent said, “Let’s go get him.”
Leaving Parnell in McLeod’s custody, Richard and Kent took off running to Goggston’s chamber. When Richard’s knock went unanswered, he took a step back and kicked the door open. He rushed inside, Kent at his heels; the empty room with its unmade bed confirmed his fear. After a quick search that revealed no clues as to Goggs’ plans, they went to the stables. Goggs had left behind his own mount, taking one of Billings’ carriages instead.
“Goggston won’t get far,” Kent said. “He has no more than a few hours’ lead on us. I’ll send men along all the main roads—”
“Why do you think he took a carriage?” Richard said tersely. “He’d make far better time on horseback.”
“What are you getting at?”
“He knows we’re onto him—that’s why he lied to me and cast blame on Parnell. He knows he’s only bought himself a little time and can’t outrun us.” Goggs’ words hammered at his brain. Would have liked to say my goodbyes before she was packed off to London. “And he also knows where Violet is headed.”
“Bloody hell.” Kent paled. “The bastard’s gone after her. For insurance.”
