He glanced at Nigel. “I told no one where I was going,” he said, his voice hard. “I sent a note to Mallen to expect me buttold no one herewhere I was going that day, yesterday. So, if Mallen did not pay them, how did anyone know I would be there at that time?”
“The Viscount of Mallenisa lord, Your Grace,” Nigel said carefully.
Pacing about, growing angrier, Maximilian shook his head, his hair flying. “I refuse to believe Mallen is behind this. So, excluding him, for now, who else would have known?”
“How did you deliver the message?” Eugenia asked.
“I sent a footman with it.”
“The footman knew.”
Maximilian froze. “He opened my letter andread it?”
“Then passed on the information to his master,” Nigel said. “I do not expect you know which footman it was, Your Grace?”
Maximilian wanted to howl. “I have over two hundred, and they all look alike – all of them in livery and powdered wigs and none of them distinctive enough to stand out among the others.”
“Right,” Nigel said. “They are hired to all look similar.”
“So, we are back to looking at a deceitful servant,” Eugenia said.
“Nigel,” Maximilian said. “Get some food in you, then I want you to ride back to York. You know what Mallen looks like. Give the highwayman his description and see if that rings true with who he saw.”
Bowing low, Nigel said, “Absolutely, Your Grace. I should return by nightfall.”
“And when you return,” Maximilian added, “I wish to talk with you regarding any recommendations you may have. We need to increase guards around the castle, perhaps on the battlements as in the old days. And within the castle, of course.”
“I will consider it as I ride, Your Grace.”
Watching him lead his horse to the stable to turn the exhausted animal over the grooms, Maximilian scratched the back of his neck and discovered he had pulled his tail loose. Grimacing, he glanced at Eugenia. “Any ideas on how to find one disloyal footman?”
Oddly, Eugenia could not meet his eyes. She turned her head away and gazed out over the fields. At last, she nodded. “Use me as bait for our villain.”
Maximilian felt he had been punched in his gut. “What are you saying? Set you up to lure him in, permit him to try to kill you? That’s absurd! Never. I will not.”
Eugenia did not plead, but merely gazed at him, her eyes and voice neutral. “How can he hurt me if you and other strong men are around to catch him?”
“I will not risk your life, Eugenia,” Maximilian growled, looming over her. “Do not ask.”
“Very well.”
Maximilian eyed her suspiciously, wondering at her apparent capitulation. “Right, then.”
“I must attend upon Lady Helena,” she said, offering him a curtsey. “I will see you soon?”
“If you are now coming down to the kitchen for your meals again,” he said slowly, still suspicious, “then I will see you at supper.”
Eugenia smiled. “Until then.”
Maximilian watched her go, uneasiness filling him. Surely, she would not attempt to set herself up to bait this murdering fiend by herself, would she? No, he shook his head. Eugenia had more sense than that. Sneaking a quick peek at his pocket watch, he decided he would spend the rest of the afternoon in his study, going over Nigel’s reports and thinking over this conundrum of who was trying to kill him and Eugenia.
* * *
Nigel returned, tired and sweaty, just as Maximilian walked down the stairs, formally dressed for supper. He pulled Nigel into a quiet corner where they could not be overheard. Even as he did so, Nigel shook his head.
“No, Your Grace,” he said, “it was not the Viscount of Mallen the highwayman saw.”
Maximilian flooded was relief, grateful that he need not suspect his good friend any longer. “Did he say what the lord did look like?”
