“Didyoujust—?”
“No,” Eltenham interrupted. “Poachers. Saw them myself as I was coming in. Likely mistook light for movement.”
“Poachers?” Millie scowled. “But that doesn’t make any—”
“Millie.” Neville placed a discreet hand on Millie’s back. “Poachers.”
“Yes… poachers,” she echoed.
Another man ducked under the door. Between the three lanterns, Willard’s body was now in full view. Neville stared down at his nemesis. This wasn’t the first time he’d seen the man covered in blood. This time, however, would be the last.
Millie put her head down and stepped backward as a footman would, a silent request that her identity not be revealed to this stranger. Neville further shielded her with his body.
“Lord Neville, allow me to present Mr. Barnes, Justice of the Peace in these parts.”
Barnes…Barnes.Neville narrowed his eyes. The same Barnes, he’d wager, that had placed the ad in the paper seeking John.
Eltenham turned toward Barnes. “Lord Neville’s…footman is attending him.” He handed him the rifle. “The poachers left this behind. Tragedy. Barnes was just about to put out a warrant for their arrest, weren’t you?”
“Yes, my lord,” Barnes said.
Eltenham assessed Barnes with a hard expression. “As to the misunderstanding earlier this year, the one my son brought to your attention involving young John…”
Neville stiffened.
“That misunderstanding has all been cleared up. Correct?”
“Just so,” Mr. Barnes replied.
Eltenham turned to Neville. “Being newly wed, I presume you will wish to return to London as soon as possible. Mr. Barnes, hire them a post chaise, would you?”
Barnes bowed. “I would be happy to be of service.”
“We would be delighted to accept,” Neville replied carefully.
Behind Neville, Millie made a sound of protest. He glanced over his shoulder, silently communicating that he had not forgotten about the women in the house.
“There are a few things I would like to discuss with you, Eltenham,” he said. “Privately.”
“Well?” Eltenham turned a supercilious gaze on Barnes. “Do go see about the post chaise.”
Barnes hesitated only a moment, then he left the room.
Eltenham turned to Neville. “I presume you wish to discuss my son’s guests?”
“Guests?” Millie queried.
As Neville nodded, he reached behind him and grabbed Millie’s hand.
“Your mother brought those guests to my attention this afternoon. Needless to say, I’d been unaware Willard was, ah, entertaining.”
“There’s a Bow Street Runner out there,” Neville warned.
“Yes,” Eltenham agreed. “Mr. Dixon and I have met.” Eltenham sighed. “I’ve asked him to assist in returning Willard’s guests to their proper homes, with the assurance they will receive adequate compensation for their distress.”
“Adequate compensation,” Millie murmured derisively. “Does justice have a price?”
“The price of justice is at your feet, my lady.” Eltenham looked down at the body. “As for the guests…they will receive a thousand pounds each, provided they wisely refrain from discussing their ordeal.”