The Leopard Prince (Princes #2)(11)

Lord Granville threw something down at her feet. “I have evidence.” His smile was quite odious.

George frowned and looked at the thing by her embroidered shoe tip. It was a little wooden figure. She bent to pick it up, a small, treacle-colored figurine, no larger than the ball of her thumb. Its features were partially obscured by dried mud. She turned it over, rubbing the dirt off. A hedgehog carved in exquisite detail emerged. The artist had cleverly taken advantage of a dark spot in the wood to highlight the bristles on the tiny animal’s back. How sweet! George smiled in delight.

Then she became aware of the silence in the room. She looked up and saw the dreadful stillness with which Mr. Pye stared at the carving in her hand. Dear Lord, surely he hadn’t really—

“That, I think, is evidence enough,” Lord Granville said.

“What—?”

“Ask him.” Granville gestured at the hedgehog, and George instinctively closed her fingers as if to protect it. “Go on, ask him who made that.”

She met Mr. Pye’s eyes. Was there a flicker of regret in them?

“I did,” he said.

George cradled the carving in her two hands and brought them to her breast. Her next question was inevitable. “And what does Mr. Pye’s hedgehog have to do with your dead sheep?”

“It was found next to the body of a ram on my land.” Lord Granville’s eyes bore the unholy light of triumph. “Just this morning.”

“I see.”

“So you must dismiss Pye at the very least. I’ll have the charges written up and a warrant for his arrest drawn. In the meantime, I’ll take him into my custody. I am, after all, the magistrate in this area.” Lord Granville was almost jovial in his victory. “Perhaps you can lend me a brace of strong footmen?”

“I don’t think so.” George shook her head thoughtfully. “No, I’m afraid that just won’t do.”

“Are you out of your mind, woman? I offer to solve the problem for you—” Lord Granville cut himself off impatiently. He marched to the door, waving his hand. “Fine. I’ll just ride back to my estate and bring my own men to arrest the fellow.”

“No, I think not,” George said. “Mr. Pye is still in my employ. You must let me handle this matter as I see fit.”

Lord Granville stopped and turned. “You’re insane. I’ll have this man by sundown. You have no right—”

“I have every right,” George interrupted him. “This is my steward, my house, my land. And you are not welcome upon it.” Striding swiftly, she took both men by surprise, moving past them before they could object. She threw open the door and continued into the hall. “Greaves!”

The butler must have been hovering nearby because he appeared with amazing speed. He was accompanied by the two biggest footmen in her service.

“Lord Granville will be leaving now.”

“Yes, my lady.” Greaves, a perfect example of his kind, showed no satisfaction as he hurried forward to offer Lord Granville his hat and gloves, but his step was bouncier than usual.

“You’ll regret this.” Lord Granville shook his head slowly, heavily, like an enraged bull. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Mr. Pye was suddenly at George’s side. She fancied she could feel his warmth even though he touched her not at all.

“The door is this way, my lord,” Greaves said, and the footmen moved to flank Lord Granville.

She held her breath until the big oak doors banged shut. Then she blew it out. “Well. At least he is out of the manor.”

Mr. Pye brushed past her.

“I haven’t finished talking to you,” George said, irritated. The man could at least thank her before leaving. “Where are you going?”

“I have some questions that need answering, my lady.” He bowed briefly. “I promise to present myself to you by tomorrow morning. Anything you have to say to me can be said then.”

And he was gone.

George slowly unclasped her fist and looked again at the elfin hedgehog. “And what if what I have to say can’t wait until tomorrow?”

GODDAMN HARRY PYE and that haughty bitch as well! Silas Granville kicked his black gelding into a gallop as he left the Woldsly Manor gates. The animal tried to shy at the sting of the spurs, but Silas was having none of it. He yanked viciously on the reins, driving the bit into the soft sides of the horse’s mouth until the animal tasted the copper of its own blood. The gelding subsided.

To what end did Lady Georgina protect Harry Pye? It wouldn’t be long before Silas returned, and when he did, he’d be sure to bring a small army. She wouldn’t be able to prevent him from dragging Pye away.

The gelding hesitated at the ford in the stream that divided Granville land from the Woldsly estate. The stream was wide and shallow here. Silas spurred the horse, and it splashed into the water. Bright drops of blood swirled and mixed with the current and were swept away downstream. The hills rolled up from the stream, hiding the approach to Granville House. A man on foot, carrying baskets on a yoke across his shoulders, was in the lane. He scrambled to the side at the sound of the gelding’s hoofbeats. As Silas rode by, the man doffed his cap. Silas didn’t bother acknowledging him.

His family had held these lands since the time of the Tudors. Granvilles had married, begot, and died here. Some had been weak and some had been intemperate in drink or women, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was the land. For the land was the foundation of their wealth and of their power—the foundation of Silas’s power. No one—especially not a baseborn land steward—was going to endanger that foundation. Not while the blood still beat in his veins. The loss of monies from the dead sheep on his lands was minimal, but the loss of pride—of honor—was too great to bear. Silas would never forget the sheer insolence on Pye’s young face nearly twenty years ago. Even as his finger was being cut off, the boy had stared him in the eye and sneered. Pye had never behaved as a peasant should. It was important that Silas make a show of punishing Harry Pye for his criminal affront.