Read Online Lord Scoundrel Dies by Kate Harper - Free Book Online Page B

club and decided to call round.
Heard a nasty piece of news. Sutton is dead.’
    Charlie paused while he recalled the events
of the evening before. He knew perfectly well that Sutton was dead
but he had no intention of letting his uncle know that. ‘Arthur
Sutton? How did he die?’
    ‘Somebody smacked him on the head,’ Sir
Henry’s tone held a certain relish. The death of a peer would be
all over London in no time but Arthur Sutton had not been a popular
man with a great many people and few people would grieve his
passing. The manner of his death might shock, but it probably
wouldn’t surprise.
    ‘So murder, then.’ Charlie took a sustaining
sip of coffee. ‘Any idea who it was that did him in?’
    ‘None whatsoever, but everybody knew that
the man was a loose screw. Could have been any number of
acquaintances.’
    ‘Perhaps a thief? Sutton might have caught
him in the act?’
    Henry Lampforth snorted at this. ‘Far more
likely to be somebody he knows. A perfect stranger wouldn’t be
inclined to club the man to death but his friends are a different
matter entirely.’
    ‘You’re in a damned bloodthirsty mood,
Uncle. Have some more beef.’
    ‘Don’t mind if I do.’
    Charlie’s uncle stayed for another twenty
minutes; clearly he had come with the grisly news – breakfast, his
second for the morning, had merely been a fortuitous event – and
was now eager to go and spread the word about Sutton’s sudden
demise elsewhere. Charlie bade him a half-hearted adieu, reflecting
that the subject of Lord Sutton’s murder was going to get mighty
tiresome before he had finished hearing the end of it. He was as
fond of a good bit of gossip as the next man, but his intimate
involvement with the situation lent the entire affair an unpleasant
odor. He decided that he would keep a low profile for a few days;
hang about with Monty, perhaps. Certainly he intended to avoid his
club for several days for gossip would be rife. Perhaps a sojourn
to the country? Normally bucolic delights were of no real appeal –
as far as Charlie could tell there was no joy to be found in the
scent of cow manure – but he could probably find something to
entertain him at Tattersall’s. Horseracing wasn’t of any real
interest to him either, that was more Monty’s thing. But it would
get him out of town and away from the inevitable speculation about
Sutton’s demise.
    Having made up his mind on a course of
action, he felt a little more cheerful. He was going to have a
quiet afternoon at home and then he would call on Mr. Truelove and
ask if he wanted to accompany him on the morrow to some equine
related diversions. When the mail arrived, however, he was forced
to reconsider this excellent plan for it contained a brief letter
from his new acquaintance, Miss Harriet Honeywood.
     
    Dear Mr. Lampforth, Esq.,
     
    I am desirous of consulting with you on a
matter that is familiar to us both. I trust you take my meaning. If
it is not inconvenient, can you please meet me tonight at the
Bradshaw dance. Perhaps around ten o’clock?
     
    Yours truly,
    Miss Harriet Honeywood
     
    Charlie regarded the
missive with dismay. It was damned inconvenient. He hated dances for he had two left
feet. And, while he had enjoyed Miss Honeywood’s refreshingly
practical company on their unusual nocturnal adventure, her request
put paid to his thoughts of escape. He was reasonably sure he could
forget the previous evening without too much effort but clearly,
that did not seem destined for success if he now had to meet up
with Miss Honeywood. He could ignore the request, of course.
Pretend it never reached him and disappear out of town. Perhaps she
would forget that she wished to speak to him? But then he
recollected the steady green eyes from the evening before, along
with that stubborn chin and he sighed.
    Miss Honeywood was not the kind of young
lady who forgot things. She was a female with Purpose, that most
dreaded thing for those that were perfectly happy to