Free Caroline and the Captain: A Regency Novella by Maggi Andersen

milord.”
    Nicholas was approaching the front door when he saw Caroline trotting along the gravel to the stable yard. He left the groom to help her down and ran into the house, startling Kettle. “Fetch the footman, Kettle. I need him to take a note to the magistrate.”
    He ran to the library and seated at the desk, dashed off a note. He’d sent his footman scurrying off with it, when Caroline hurried in. Breathless from running, she sank onto the sofa and pulled off her gloves. “What sort of gun do you think it was?”
    He turned the ball over in his hand. “A small one. Nothing a man would ordinarily have used. A lady’s boxlock flintlock is my guess.”
    Caroline’s eyes widened as she searched his. “You think a woman did it?”
    “Who knows?” Nicholas’ gut tightened with fury. “You neither saw nor heard anything?”
    She dropped her gaze to the gloves in her hands. “Only the birds.”
    He turned his chair to view her. “The birds?”
    “A flock of them went squawking into the sky.” She widened her eyes. “Oh!”
    He came to sit beside her, and removed the gloves she scrunched up in her nervous fingers, tossing them onto a table. “Take a deep breath and cast your mind back.”
    “When I saw the birds I thought of Father. He was holding a shooting party that day.”
    His glance sharpened. “So you probably heard several shots. And you wouldn’t have taken much notice of one more.”
    “No,” she whispered, her face pale.
    Nicholas rose. “I think we both need a brandy.”
    Two hours later, the magistrate arrived. A man in his fifties with a ruddy face, he expressed surprise, but stated bluntly that as Nicholas’ brother wasn’t shot, he remained doubtful. The ball or indeed the rock was not, in themselves, evidence of foul play. He would send the Parish constable tomorrow to question the staff.
    “A waste of time,” Nicholas said after he’d gone. “The servants are loyal. They’ve been with the family for years and they all liked George.”
    “They did. Everyone did.” She frowned; her eyes reddened, and sat quietly with her handkerchief in her lap, sipping the brandy. “He had no enemies.”
    “He had at least one.” Nicholas leaned back in the leather chair and placed a booted foot over his other knee.
    “I wish I could tell you more. George rode like the fury. I was way behind him.”
    “It’s probably just as well you were, or you might have been killed too.” He turned over the piece of metal in his hand. “A small pistol wouldn’t make a great deal of noise. Perhaps that was why it was used.”
    He leapt up and walked to the drinks tray on the mahogany sideboard. “Another?”
    “Please.” She held out her glass. “I hope I don’t get tipsy. I’m not used to spirits.”
    He took the crystal glass from her hand, distracted for a moment by her soft, red-rimmed eyes. Her vulnerability struck a chord in him and he tamped down the desire to enfold her in his arms. “Just half a glass. You’re shocked. Spirits are what the doctor would have ordered.” Pouring the drinks, Nicholas contemplated the bitter truth. It was indisputable. Someone had wanted George dead. But who and why?
     
    ♥♥♥
     
    From her position on the sofa, Caroline cast Nicholas an anxious glance. He sat in an armchair looking so troubled that she wanted to go to him. She hated to see him look so alone. But what if he suspected her? Would he rebuff any sign of comfort she offered?
    He rubbed his temples. “Do you have a headache?” she asked.
    “Yes, a little.”
    “Here, let me help you.” She put down her glass. Light-headed from the spirits, she moved behind him. She had often done this for her father. Nicholas rested his head in her hands as she rubbed the smooth skin and the hair at his nape. She moved down to his shoulder blades applying pressure to the areas she’d discovered worked for her father. She leaned over him and massaged his temples, and toward the crown of his head,