Read The Vital Principle for Free Online

moment, the servant bowed and left.
    Face solemn, she turned to face Knighton, clasping her hands at her waist. “He’s gone to send a footman for the coroner.”
    “Oh, no!” the dowager exclaimed. “No. You should have sent for the doctor. We must send for the doctor. Henry can’t be dead! It's just a mistake. A terrible mistake.”
    “I’m sorry,” Miss Barnard replied, the sadness in her eyes deepening.
    “And the constable,” Knighton said. Earlier, it had annoyed him to find Lord Crowley had spoken to the local constable before reluctantly hiring Knighton on that good man's advice. Since Miss Barnard hadn’t done anything illegal, the constable felt there was nothing he could do, and he’d elected not to come to Rosecrest.
    With luck, however, he might have taken the time to investigate Miss Barnard’s background. It would be worth speaking to him to find out.
    “Certainly,” she agreed. Miss Barnard called to the butler and caught him just as he stepped into the hallway. “Mr. Graham! Please send a request to the constable to join us. Mr. Gaunt believes he has need of his assistance.”
    Knighton threw her an assessing glance, noting the cynical gleam in her eyes. Initially, he had hoped Miss Barnard, like their host, was simply nervous because he was the thirteenth person seated at the table. Now he wondered if her dislike stemmed from knowledge concerning Crowley’s reason for summoning him. Certainly, it wouldn’t be hard for her to guess.
    No wonder she’d behaved with such circumspection, at least until the murder.
    Another wave of tiredness washed over him. He pinched the bridge of his nose. Perhaps he’d be lucky and find a quick answer to this mystery. Then, he could safely leave it in the hands of the constable. Based upon Crowley’s request, the circumstances of his death certainly pointed to one person. He studied Miss Barnard, wishing she’d lose some of her composure, break down, and save them all a great deal of trouble by confessing.
    Then he realized someone else in the room also had a motive, and it was one of the best known reasons for murder. The quiet, soft-spoken Mr. Stephen Hereford would now inherit the baron's title and the estate. Rosecrest would be his.
    While Knighton studied the guests, Miss Barnard bent over Lady Crowley’s shoulder and whispered into her ear.
    Lady Crowley gazed up at her and patted Miss Barnard's wrist. She rose, bracing her hands tiredly against the edge of the table. “I believe I should like to retire,” she said, her voice wavering. “I…I can’t….” She lifted her eyes to Miss Barnard as her expression crumbled. “You must tend to him. Send for a doctor. There may be hope, yet. There must be. Perhaps it is only his heart after all. He drinks so much, you know. Too much….”
    “I'll care for him,” Miss Barnard said softly. “You must retire and rest.”
    When Miss Barnard caught Knighton’s gaze, she stared back with defiance, her dark eyes reflecting the flames from the candles on the table between them. Her expression grew watchful, as if waiting for his reaction.
    He couldn’t help but admire her self-possession. If she were rattled or afraid, she didn’t show it. Again, he felt an unwanted sense of attraction. Although she appeared closer to thirty than twenty, her cool confidence, regular features, and beautiful, clean profile drew him. Strength and resolution showed clearly in her face.
    She exhibited none of the nervousness that made him so impatient with most women, and that, more than anything, increased his awareness of her.
    When he didn’t speak, Miss Barnard said, “Lady Crowley is exhausted. And I’m sure the other ladies are tired, as well. Please excuse us.” She slipped her arm around Lady Crowley, who leaned heavily against her. Mr. Hereford stepped closer awkwardly and held out his arm in a half-way position as if he wanted to assist his sister-in-law but was unsure how to do so. Or feared she’d reject