Chapter Eight
“Lizzie!” Hawk shouted as he leaped from his horse. He raced back to the other side of the hedge. Lizzie had been tossed and had rolled down an incline, lying splayed at the bottom of the ditch, not moving. With his heart in his throat, Hawk hurried down, careful not to lose his footing on the still damp grass, lest they both end up in a heap at the bottom. He kneeled next to her and turned her over. Her face was covered in dirt, and she displayed a nasty-looking bump on her forehead, but a quick check of her pulse told him she was alive.
“Lizzie.” He gently tapped her cheek. Nothing.
“Lizzie.” He tried again. The only sound was her soft breathing, and him gulping for air. He made a quick assessment of her limbs, and nothing seemed broken. He slid his arms underneath her and lifted. While her weight was light, the incline was steep, but digging his heels in, he made it without too much difficulty.
Magpie stood next to the edge of the ditch, watching him, as if she knew something was wrong with her rider. Hawk laid Lizzie carefully on the grass and approached the animal. She backed up a bit, snorted, and shook her head, but with a few soft words, she allowed him to remove the saddle and place it on the ground. With a swift smack to her hindquarters, she took off in the direction of the stable.
Hawk gathered Lizzie in his arms, and grasped the pommel on Brambles, and with his foot in the stirrup, hauled the two of them up. He swung his leg over the saddle and settled her in his lap. She still had not awakened, and concerned she might have some sort of internal injury, he dug his heels into Bramble’s sides, and they raced back to the house.
“Wycliff,” Hawk shouted for his cousin the minute he reached the house.
One of the footmen came barreling out the front door. His brows rose when he saw Hawk holding Lizzie in his lap. “My lord. How may I help?”
“Here. Take Miss Moore.” Hawk held her out to the footman, who took her, looking as though he had no idea what to do. Once he was dismounted, Hawk motioned to the footman. “Give her to me and see if you can find Lady Wycliff.”
“Yes, my lord.” The man hurried in front of them.
Once they were in the house, Hawk decided it was better to bring her to the drawing room, since he had no idea where her bedchamber was.
He barely got her settled on the sofa when Lord Wycliff entered the room. “Whatever happened? Charles said you asked for Leah, but she is still abed.”
“Miss Moore took a spill from her horse. I don’t think she has broken anything, but she has a bump on her head, and hasn’t awakened yet.”
“I will get one of the maids to assist her and send for the physician.”
Hawk nodded and grabbed a colorful knitted shawl from the back of the sofa and covered Lizzie with it. Once again, he tapped her cheek, but there was no response. The longer she remained unconscious, the more dangerous it would be.
“My lord, if you will follow me, I will direct you to Miss Moore’s bedchamber.” A young maid he’d seen around the house bustled into the room, her eyes growing wide as she took in Lizzie lying on the sofa.
Wycliff was right behind her. “I have sent for the doctor. Carry her upstairs, and Bernice will undress her for the doctor’s examination.”
Hawk lifted her again, trying to ignore the warmth from her body and the softness of her curves as he shifted her in his arms. They made the trek upstairs to the end of the south hallway where Miss Moore had her room.
“Come, Hawk, let’s leave her to Bernice, and we’ll wait downstairs for the physician. I’d like to know how she came to fall from the horse, since I know Miss Moore is an excellent horsewoman.”
Once they were settled in the breakfast room, with plates of food and cups of strong coffee in front of them, Wycliff again raised the question. “How did Miss Moore fall?”
Hawk shook his head as he buttered a warm roll. “That is something I want to investigate. It looked like the girth on the horse snapped. If the groom did not tighten it correctly, he should be reprimanded. We still don’t know what Miss Moore’s injuries are, but a loose saddle has caused more than one death.”
“I agree.” Wycliff took a sip of coffee. “Where is the saddle now?”
“I removed it when I sent the horse back to the stable. I left it alongside the hedge we jumped over.”
“That’s when she fell? During a jump?”
“Yes. She cleared it beautifully the last time we rode. I’m sure there is not a problem with her skills.”
They finished breakfast and were discussing the latest bills in Parliament when Charles entered the breakfast room. “My lord, the physician has arrived.”
Wycliff pushed his chair back. “I will see to Miss Moore. Why don’t you retrieve that saddle?”
As much as he wanted to hear what the physician had to say about Lizzie’s injuries, it would look odd had he made that request, since he had no connection to the woman. That thought annoyed him, since his feelings seemed to have become more than a passing acquaintance, but since nothing about that would be proper, it was best to keep his mouth closed.
Brambles had already been groomed and was happily munching on oats when Hawk entered the stable. The stable master approached him, wiping his hands on a cloth dirtier than his hands. “How can I help you, my lord?”
“I’d like another horse saddled.” As the man turned to do as he bid, he called him back. “Who tacked the horse for Miss Moore earlier today?”
“I did, my lord. I saw the horse come back without the saddle. Was there a problem?”
“Yes. Miss Moore took a tumble. I’m about to retrieve the saddle.”
The man gave him a terse nod and soon had another horse tacked and ready to go. Hawk led the horse back to the spot where Lizzie had fallen. The saddle was still where he’d dropped it. He swung from his horse and strode to where the pillion lay, squatting down alongside it. He turned it over and examined the girth.
His thumb ran over the spot where the girth had snapped. Even to an amateur eye, it was obvious the leather strap had been cut about three-quarters of the way through, so any stress would have broken it.
Who would want to cause a governess a potentially fatal tumble? Once more, the feeling washed over him that something was off with Miss Lizzie Moore. Someone wanted her either dead or severely injured. Why?
With dozens of questions crowding his brain, Hawk threw the saddle over his horse and mounted. Taking a slow ride back to the stable to go over in his mind what all this could mean, he arrived back at the front of the house just as the physician was taking his leave.
The stable master strode up. “What did you discover, my lord?”
“I would like to discuss this with Wycliff first.” He dismounted and entered the house, dragging the saddle with him.
Wycliff was just descending the stairs from the bedchambers floor.
“I see the physician just left. How is Miss Moore?”
“She is finally awake.”
Hawk took in a deep breath, not realizing how worried he’d been until he heard Wycliff’s words.
“The physician said no broken bones, and it appears the bump on her forehead was her only injury. She had smacked her head on a rock as she tumbled down the incline. He did suggest a day or two in bed just to be sure.” Wycliff gestured with his chin toward the saddle Hawk carried. “Did you discover anything?”
“Yes. I suggest we retire to the library.”
Both men strode down the corridor until they reached the library. With his hand on the door latch, Wycliff turned to him. “I have no idea what you’ve found, but whatever it is, I prefer to keep it quiet from the staff and my wife.”
Hawk gave him a curt nod, and they entered the room, where he placed the saddle on a table. “This is what I discovered.” Hawk held up the girth belt. “Someone cut the strap, so Miss Moore would fall and be injured—possibly even killed.”
Wycliff let out with a low whistle. He took the strap from Hawk’s hand and examined it. “Who would want to harm a governess?”
Hawk’s raised brows were his only answer.
“I know it’s early, but I could use a brandy.” Wycliff headed to the sideboard and poured two fingers into two glasses. He returned to Hawk and handed him the glass. They both downed the liquid and settled on the chairs across from each other.
“What now?” Hawk asked.
“I suppose you are considering all the questions you’ve been asking about Miss Moore.” Wycliff studied him.
“Do you agree that perhaps there are some questions that need answers?”
“I think first we need to speak with Lennon, my stable master.” Wycliff stood and picked up the saddle.
“I have already ascertained that he was the one who tacked the horse,” Hawk said as he followed Wycliff from the room. Wycliff gave him a curt nod, his lips tightened.
Earlier, the stable master had looked concerned at the news of Miss Moore’s tumble, which was, of course, the way he should have looked. “How long has Lennon been in your employ?”
“Since my father’s time. He’d been a groom for several years, then head groom, and I promoted him to stable master five years ago. The man has always done well at his job. He is married, with two daughters, I believe. His wife works in our kitchens from time to time, when we need extra help.”
“He certainly doesn’t sound like someone who would suddenly decide to harm a rider.” Hawk pushed opened the side door to the stable, where the stable master had his small office. Lennon stood as the two men entered. “What have you discovered, my lord?” He crushed his wool cap in his hands, his expression one of worry and concern.
But not guilt.
Wycliff slammed the saddle down onto a rickety table against the wall. “Take a look at this, Lennon.”
The man made his way to the table and looked at the strap Wycliff held. “It’s been cut, my lord.” His eyes grew wide as he looked at Wycliff. “Certainly, you do not think I would do such a thing?”
Wycliff laid his hand on Lennon’s shoulder. “No, my man. I have no doubt that you had nothing to do with this. What I want to know is, are there any new employees of late?” Wycliff turned to Hawk. “I usually allow Lennon to do his own hiring since he knows the place so well and understands the type of employees we need.”
Lennon nodded. “Yes, my lord. But the most recent was young Thomas Grant from the village. His father has been here with us in the stables for quite some time now. Thomas is a fine lad, and I don’t think he would do anything like this.” Lennon gestured toward the cut strap.
“Did you see anyone hanging around the stables that didn’t belong here?” Hawk asked.
“No, sir.”
Wycliff hoisted the saddle and tossed it to the floor. “I would appreciate keeping this between us, Lennon. I have no idea what is going on, but I believe the fewer people who know about this, the better.”
Lennon tugged on his cap, which he’d returned to his head. “Yes, sir.”
Wycliff and Hawk headed back to the house. “Do you have any ideas, Hawk?”
Hawk shrugged. “None at the moment, but I plan to have a conversation with Miss Moore as soon as she feels up to it.”
His instincts had been right. Something was not right with Lord Wycliff’s governess. A hunch worth investigating.