Free Deadly Inheritance by Janet Laurence

able to ride?’
    Ursula nodded.
    ‘Can you bear it if I leave you here whilst I fetch some mounts? It’ll take some time but I think it’s the only way.’ He indicated the direction Ursula had decided led towards Mountstanton.
    ‘Honey can keep me company.’ Ursula may have disliked his attitude but she found she had complete faith in his ability to do what he said. ‘Can you, though, help me to sit over there?’ She indicated a rock some way away from the dead woman’s remains.
    ‘Of course.’ In a most ordinary manner, he placed her arm around his neck and helped her hobble further along the bank. Honey followed.
    Determined not to show how much her ankle was paining her, Ursula was able to ignore the intimate contact she was forced into with her rescuer. She was merely thankful that he was only a little taller than herself.
    Neither of them said anything until he had sat her down on the boulder.
    Then he stood back and looked at her and the dog, once again nestled against her legs. ‘Would you like me to put that animal onto your lap? It could act as a hot water bottle. I’m sorry I do not have another coat.’
    ‘I shall be fine,’ Ursula said, summoning the last of her energy. ‘At least the sun is shining. By the time you return I shall be dry.’
    ‘I won’t take that long.’ He raised his hand in a sort of salute, then set off to climb the escarpment back to the wood.
    Ursula held her face up to the sun and clutched the warm tweed jacket around her shoulders. It had a masculine smell of tobacco and carbolic soap and a faint, elusive male fragrance that recalled Jack. For a brief moment, she wondered who her rescuer was. Neither of them had introduced themselves but it was hardly the most social of occasions. Even so, Ursula thought grimly, the Dowager Countess would doubtless disapprove.
    Etiquette was the least of her concerns. More important was to consider the identity of the corpse she had discovered. That might keep her mind off the pain in her ankle and the cold gathering in her bones.
    * * *
    Sooner than she had dared to hope, two horses thundered round the river bank.
    Her rescuer, still wearing his tweed breeches, handled both mounts with consummate ease. Even before the horses drew to a halt, he was dismounting beside her. ‘Are you all right?’ he asked.
    ‘I’m fine,’ she said, trying to control her shivering.
    ‘Miss Grandison, you are a doughty lady.’
    So, as well as organising mounts, he had ascertained her name. But if he thought flattery was going to get him anywhere, he could think again. Then Ursula remembered just what a wet and bedraggled picture she must present and that this did not seem a man who practised empty compliments.
    ‘I’m afraid I have been very remiss,’ he continued. ‘I should have introduced myself. I’m Richard’s brother, Charles. He’s out riding, and Helen is off somewhere with Miss Seldon. But I’ve alerted the household as to your state. Also I’ve sent a lad from the stables to inform our local constable of the situation.
    This, Ursula realised, must be the Colonel Stanhope who had been expected, so she had been told a number of times, to arrive home within the next few days. She wondered that he should have been returning in such an informal fashion.
    The Colonel helped her onto her mount. She was amused to see it was equipped with a side-saddle. It was many years since she had used one; riding astride had been her practice in California, and was so much easier.
    Colonel Stanhope adjusted her stirrups, careful not to jolt her injury.
    Before he could remount, Ursula forced herself to say, ‘If you could manage to get a piece of the dress, Colonel, an identification might be possible.’
    ‘You mean, the dead woman’s dress?’
    She closed her eyes briefly. What else could she have meant?
    ‘Of course,’ he said swiftly and handed her the reins of his horse.
    She didn’t watch to see how he carried out her request.
    When he