Ignoring that, Julian saw Melissa to her usual armchair, then sat and, between them, they told Felix and Damian the story of the sinking punt.
Predictably, both were horrified.
“Thank God you weren’t that far out and can swim,” Felix said.
Damian was frowning. “Mama and Frederick took the punt out yesterday, so whoever it was had to have drilled the hole during the night.” His frown deepened. “But how on earth did they know you two intended to take the punt out this afternoon in time to put a hole in it first?”
Julian and Melissa explained what they believed must have happened and their deductions and investigations leading to Phelps’s revelation. “So,” Julian finally concluded, his gaze fixing on Damian, “it looks like it’s Manning we need to interrogate.”
Damian’s expression had grown dark and grim. He shook his head in transparent self-disgust. “I should have known something was wrong.” He looked at each of them. “I’ve been wondering over the last few days if Manning is even a real valet. He mixed up my hairbrush and my coat brush, and his ironing…” Damian gestured. “Suffice it to say thatIcould do a better job.”
Looking like a thundercloud, he pushed to his feet. “Let’s hunt him down and see what he has to say for himself. I haven’t seen him since about eleven, when I left my room.”
Julian held up a staying hand. “There’s no need to chase the man.” He waved at the bellpull. “Ring for Phelps and have him send Manning in.”
Damian hesitated, but then tugged the bellpull, returned to the chair, and grumbled beneath his breath, “I’m going to have words with dear Gordon when next I see him.”
Julian suspected his little brother would have to wait in line for that honor, but chose not to further provoke his clearly exercised sibling.
Phelps duly answered the summons and, once apprised of Julian’s wishes, after confirming that Manning had lunched with the staff, assured them he would send the man in straightaway.
After Phelps left, Julian caught Felix’s, then Damian’s eyes. “Any wagers on whether Manning will be found?”
Melissa caught Julian’s gaze and shook her head, but as it transpired, he’d hit the mark.
Three minutes later, Phelps returned and reported, “Manning isn’t downstairs, my lord. I’ve sent Richards and Thornley to find him and tell him that Master Damian requires his assistance.”
“Thank you, Phelps,” Julian replied.
The thud of rapidly approaching footsteps heralded the arrival of Thornley, somewhat out of breath.
The senior footman appeared in the open doorway, and when Julian waved him in, he stepped over the threshold and halted. He bobbed his head to Julian and Melissa and, when Phelps gestured for him to speak, stated, “We looked through the upstairs rooms, my lord, but couldn’t find Manning anywhere, so we tried the staff quarters. He’s not up there, and all his belongings are still in his room. But when we were on our way down, we passed Harriet on the stairs, and she asked what we were about, and we told her we were after Manning, and she said she’d seen him hurrying down to the stable as fast as his legs would carry him. She thought he must be chasing after Mr. Damian for some reason.”
Julian smiled. “Thank you, Thornley.” He nodded to the butler. “And to you, Phelps.”
“And,” Melissa added, “do pass on our thanks to our sharp-eyed Harriet as well.”
“Indeed.” Julian rose. “We’ll handle things from here.”
Phelps and Thornley bowed and retreated.
Julian collected his brothers with a look, then glanced at Melissa as she rose.
“Don’t think I’m staying here,” she warned him and led the way out of the room.
Five minutes later, with Melissa’s hand in his and Felix and Damian striding on either side, Julian walked into the stable yard. The sounds of an altercation rolled out through the open stable door.
“No.” Hockey sounded belligerently adamant. “You cannot have a horse to ride to Wirksworth nor anywhere else. Not unless his lordship says so, and that’s my last word on that.”
Julian smiled and strolled into the stable.
Hockey, his huge arms crossed over his chest, legs planted like oaks, stood blocking the aisle that led to the stalls.
Facing him, Manning had plainly been pleading his case, but at the sound of their footsteps, he whirled.
For one instant, guilt and horror warred in his expression, then a flash of animal cunning had him glancing around, searching for escape.
But all around stood various stablemen, drawn by the argument and looking increasingly suspicious of the Londoner in their midst.
