While awaiting her return, Hugo tugged at his left boot. After a brief struggle, he yanked the damn thing off.
Miss Bennett found him sitting at the table examining the heel beneath the light of the lamp. “I could stay up there all night,” she said, pulling out a chair to join him. “You can almost touch the stars where the clouds break to reveal an inky sky.”
He glanced up from his task, and her brilliant smile sent his heart leaping to his throat. “Indeed.”
“Is the heel loose?” she asked. “Shall I see if I can find a knife to use as leverage?”
“Yes, there might be one in the sideboard drawer.” While she rummaged around, he continued to tug at the heel. “There’s definitely something—wait.”
Hugo twisted the bottom of the heel, and it came off in his hand. Inside the hollow space, he found a folded piece of paper, two inches square and a little damp and tatty around the edges. He peeled back the folds and studied the minute pencil notes.
Miss Bennett appeared at his side and bent over his shoulder. “Can you read that? The writing is so small.”
He pointed to the first line. “The word Bertie muttered wasn’t strawberry but Strawbridge.”
“Strawbridge? There’s no one here by that name. Unless he’s referring to one of your servants.”
“From the dates and times recorded, it is fair to assume that the Strawbridge is a ship. See, here is the schedule for three upcoming journeys from ports in France. It looks like the route from Bordeaux to Southampton.”
Miss Bennett leaned closer, so close he could smell the intoxicating scent of her jasmine perfume. A silky lock of her hair fell over his shoulder. “The fact Mr Bellham hid this in his boot implies something nefarious will occur on these dates.”
Hugo cast her a sidelong glance. He tried to ignore the way her lashes fluttered against the perfect softness of her skin. “And he must have planned to pass the information to someone here.”
“Though not to Lord Northcott,” she said. “Else he would have given him the note whilst staying at the Swan in Amesbury.”
“Unless Northcott is lying.” A conversation he’d had with his mother the night Miss Bennett arrived flashed into his mind. “Northcott has recently invested in a new shipping venture. What are the odds one vessel is named the Strawbridge?”
Silence ensued while they both pondered the information.
Miss Bennett inhaled sharply. “Perhaps the viscount is involved in smuggling, and Mr Bellham discovered his secret.”
“My mother did suggest the venture was highly lucrative.”
“Why else list specific times and dates? And Mr Bellham did mutter the word Judas.”
“Judas. A betrayer to friend and country,” Hugo mused. “Bellham must have had an ally in this house. Someone he trusted to act on the information.”
“What if he came to inform you of what he’d discovered? As an earl, you have more power to pursue a viscount than Mr Bellham does.”
A chill ran down Hugo’s back. “If what we surmise is true, it gives the viscount a motive for murder.” Yes, and the bastard was taking full advantage of Hugo’s hospitality. “We must mention this to the coroner and the magistrate when they arrive.”
That said, no justice of the peace would arrest a peer based on nothing but supposition. They needed unshakeable proof of the viscount’s guilt before throwing accusations.
Hugo folded the note and slipped it into the inside pocket of his coat.
“Wait!” Miss Bennett clasped his arm. “A man capable of murder will be steps ahead. For all we know, the viscount is aware of every aspect of our investigation. In the interests of safety, you must not keep the evidence on your person.”
Hugo observed the dark shadows of fear dancing in her eyes. “Is that simply a logical suggestion, Miss Bennett? Or might a man hope you care something for his welfare?”
Her only response was to cup his cheek. “Hide the note somewhere here, but not before we have memorised the dates and times.”
She was right.
While they were trailing a murderer, what’s to say a murderer wasn’t trailing them?
“You remember the first line. I’ll remember the second and so on.” He handed her the note to read while he reattached the heel and thrust his foot inside the boot.
Their fingers brushed as she gave him back the note. Fear gripped him. The need to protect her, to send her away, far away from this den of corruption took precedence. “You should leave this house come first light. The vicar will gladly offer you a room for a few days. As soon as you’re able, you should return to Chippenham.” It pained him to say the words, but it was perhaps the most selfless thing he had ever said.