When Scandal Came to Town (Scandalous Sons 3)

Thinking about motives and identifying the real culprit hurt Benedict’s brain. They had to find evidence—legitimate proof of guilt—not base their opinions on supposition. Either that, or they had to press the suspects for a confession. Things might become clearer once Trent had questioned the groom and Dermot Flannery had spoken to Finnigan.

As they moved closer to the Serpentine, Cassandra stopped abruptly. “There’s something near that tree. A strange shadow. No, a man.”

She had focused her attention on the vagabond sitting on the ground, leaning against a tree trunk. The man was buried beneath a mound of moth-eaten coats, his eyes hidden by the brim of his dusty hat. The tip of his long, unkempt beard touched his chest, and he appeared to be sleeping.

The terrier sprawled at his side jumped to its feet as they approached. The snappy creature barked—a high-pitched and highly irritating noise—as it had done on the night Benedict came to the park to avoid sleeping with his wife.

Cassandra tugged Benedict’s arm as she shuffled backwards in terror. But the dog was all bark, no bite.

“The animal is trained to protect its master’s belongings.” Benedict gestured to the cloth sack on the ground, which made the dog snarl and snap all the more.

Cassandra winced at the sound. “That bark …” She shook her head and screwed her eyes shut. “It seems familiar.”

The vagabond raised the brim of his hat and scanned the quality of their clothing. He drew the dog to heel and then they both settled back to resume their light slumber.

“Do you remember the dog barking on the night you were kidnapped?” If she could remember that, then other memories might return.

“Yes.” Confusion marred her brow. “Though it was not long afterwards that I woke to a dawn mist.”

“What are you saying?” Benedict engaged his logical brain. “That the perpetrator carried you to the Serpentine while you were waking from your drug-induced state? That he had not left you alone in the park all night?”

Cassandra shrugged. “I’m not sure. My memory is so hazy.”

It had always struck him as odd that a man would play hazard with a woman’s life when the intention was simply to ruin her reputation. A vulnerable woman left alone for hours was a target for those disreputable men who prowled the park. So the villain had kept Cassandra safe until the appointed time. The time when Benedict arrived to play his part.

“Perhaps this fellow might shed some light on the event.” With Cassandra still clinging to his arm, Benedict approached the vagabond. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Forgive me for disturbing your rest, but I am looking for a witness to a tragic event that occurred here almost a week ago.”

The terrier barked though the sound lacked conviction.

“Sir,” Benedict continued. “Someone abducted my wife and left her near the Serpentine. We are trying desperately to find the fiend responsible. You might help by permitting us to ask a few questions.”

The man did not stir.

“Please, sir,” Cassandra implored. “I cannot rest until I find the felon.” The dog cocked its head, looked at her and then at the lifeless figure propped against the tree. “I beg you, sir, help me.”

A second or two later, the vagabond raised his head. He pushed his hat up past his weather-beaten forehead and studied her intently. “Not someone, a man,” he said in a croaky Northern accent, a voice unused to conversation.

“I beg your pardon?”

“A man carried you to the lake.”

Benedict’s heart pounded although the vagabond hadn’t told them anything they didn’t already know. “Do you know what time it was?”

The vagabond mumbled. “Happen I misplaced my gold pocket watch, but it was just before sunrise.”

Benedict turned to Cassandra. “So the devil kept you prisoner before bringing you here.”

“I suppose it was the most logical thing to do under the circumstances.” She stepped forward and crouched beside the fellow. “Can you recall anything else? A description of the gentleman, perhaps?” She spoke quickly, with a desperation Benedict shared. “Was he a young man with dark hair and pristine clothes?”

She meant was it Lord Murray.

“It’s hard to say.” The fellow drew a dirty hand down his scruffy beard. “He was tall, was fancy-like, had a face of stone. He carried you down to the lake and I never saw him again.”

No, because Benedict had arrived via Hyde Park Corner mere minutes later.

Cassandra straightened and tightened her cloak across her chest. “It must have been apparent that something nefarious was afoot. Did you not think to alert the watchman?”

“And have the nabob say I robbed him. He goes home and I’m charged with being a liar and a thief.” The man reached out and stroked his dog. “So no, I didn’t think to alert the watchman.”