“Do you have employment you’ve been unable to attend to while you’ve been sick?”
He shook his head. “No. My father left me a tidy sum. I also inherited his two businesses.” He remained silent for a bit, then said, “How is Mrs. Whitney? She was distraught the last time I saw her.”
Likely she had been distraught because he was making threats. It was time to either cross Patrick off his list of suspects or move him to the top.
“When she spoke with me, she was troubled because she said you had threatened Mr. Harding.”
He waved his hand. “I’ve been sick too long to deal with Harding. But you can be sure I will visit with him to check on Mrs. Whitney’s trust.”
William was taken aback. “Did you not know that Mr. Harding is dead?”
Patrick sat up, his eyes wide. “Dead?”
“Yes. He drowned a couple of weeks ago. His body was found floating in the River Avon.”
Patrick shook his head. “I didn’t trust the man, but I’m sorry for his death.”
William still had one question to ask, despite the man’s reaction to Harding’s death. “Did you kill Mr. Harding?”
“I’ve been sick. Haven’t left the house for weeks. Was it not an accident, then?”
“No. Someone apparently got him drunk and pushed him into the river. Right about the time you had a conversation with Mrs. Whitney about seeking Harding out.”
Patrick groaned and shook his head. “Are the police looking for me?”
“No. They think they have found the culprit, but I’m sure they have not.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s me.”
Patrick laughed. “No wonder you were anxious to find me—not so much that my stepmother was concerned as you wanted to pin this thing on me. Well, I can tell you, my lord, I had a bit of whiskey in me and ranted about the man and his stealing from my stepmother, but then I went out and got more drunk. I woke up in an alley feeling like death would soon arrive.
“When I realized my illness was not the result of overindulging but something else, I managed to get to Millie’s house. She’s been taking care of me. I’m afraid you will have to look elsewhere for someone to take your place at the swinging rope.”
Patrick’s story made sense, and William was sure Mrs. Johnson would back him up in saying he’d been here in her house, recovering from some illness, since the night he’d left his stepmother.
It seemed young Whitney would have to be removed from their list of suspects.
“What shall I tell your stepmother?”
Patrick sighed. “Tell her I have been ill and am slowly recovering at a friend’s house and will be in touch with her when I’m feeling better. She worries far too much about everything. You might sweeten it a little bit by saying I don’t want to see her until I am sure I am no longer contagious.”
William nodded and then slapped his thighs and stood. “Thank you for seeing me. I appreciate the information.”
“Do you?” Patrick’s brows rose. “Aren’t you a bit sorry that you couldn’t lay the blame for Harding’s death at my door?”
The young man was sharp.
“No need to walk me to the door. I assume you wish to return to your bed.”
“Yes. I have been seen by a doctor, and he believes I should be up and about in another two or three days.”
“One more thing before I leave. Mrs. Johnson mentioned she works at a pub near the river. Which pub is that?”
Whitney hesitated slightly. “The King’s Garden.”
The pub where the man had told them Harding was meeting people every couple of weeks. Perhaps, since he had met Mrs. Johnson, he and Amy could revisit the place and speak with her there.
“Do you know when she works next?”
“Why?”
“I just wondered if she saw anything. Mr. Harding’s body was found not too far from that pub.”
“She works various times.” Patrick gave William a look that told him he wanted to return to his bed.
If William remembered correctly, he and Amy had made their visits to the pubs on a Tuesday afternoon. Since he hadn’t recognized Mrs. Johnson when she came to the door, possibly she worked at night.
“Well, thank you again. I will advise your stepmother of your condition. I am sure she will be relieved.”
There was no reaction from Whitney.
William left the house without seeing any more of Mrs. Johnson and wondering if there was warmth or absolute coldness between Patrick and Mrs. Whitney. His visit with Patrick had not cleared it up either way.
After leaving the house, he made his way to the public mews for his horse. Since he was alone on this trip, he hadn’t bothered with his carriage.
He purposely hadn’t told Amy about the visit, because she would have insisted on coming with him, and since he’d had no idea what he was walking into, he hadn’t wanted to worry about defending himself and her.
When he picked her up later for the Assembly, he would relate the details of his visit. Hopefully she wouldn’t be too mad at him, but even if she was angry, it had been worth it not to have to be anxious about her.
About an hour later, he walked into his house to find his mother pacing in the entryway. “There you are.” She hurried to him, threw her arms around him, and burst into tears.
“Mother, what’s wrong?”
She kept sobbing and clinging to him. He slowly walked her into the drawing room, where he placed her on a sofa and sat alongside her.
She looked up at him and waved a sodden handkerchief at him. “Those horrible police people were here again.”
Uh-oh. That didn’t sound good. He wasn’t supposed to hear from them until he had a chance to go over the records his solicitor had requested from Harding’s files. “What did they want?”
She patted her eyes and took a deep breath. “They wanted to talk
