A Corpse in Shining Armour Read Free Page B

it.
    ‘Oh God, that’s why.’
    Amos looked puzzled.
    ‘Just a copy of his own shield, isn’t it?’
    A black tower on a white ground. Stephen Brinkburn would have seen his own device speeding towards him, but something else
     as well. A black diagonal bar that had not been on Stephen Brinkburn’s shield cut across the one carried by the Railway Knight
     from left to right.
    ‘It’s the baton sinister,’ I said.
    ‘What’s that when it’s at home?’
    Amos’s many abilities did not include heraldry. I was not much better myself, but knew enough to recognise that black bar.
     It was the heralds’ sign for a man of illegitimate birth. I explained to Amos and he gave a whistle.
    ‘And he thinks his brother did that?’
    ‘Yes, and he’s probably right. Did you see the grin on Miles Brinkburn’s face? I suppose he’d bribed one of the servants to
     substitute the shield.’
    ‘So he’s telling the world their mother was no better than she should be,’ Amos said. ‘Not surprising he got upset.’
    I didn’t answer, thinking of that metal fist so nearly smashing into Miles Brinkburn’s unprotected face. It looked as if what
     I’d been told was true, and I didn’t like it.
    ‘I’ll ride back with you, if you’re going,’ Amos said.
    As usual, he’d picked up my mood and sensed that I wanted to get away from there. I said I should like that, please, and he
     went to fetch the roan.
    It took him time because one of his other jousting pupils wanted to speak to him, so it was about twenty minutes later when
     we rode towards the gate on to the Wellington Road. Miles Brinkburn was waiting by the gate on his chestnut hunter, in normal
     dress of dark jacket and tall hat. The blood had been sponged from his face, but the left side of it was raw from his slide
     down the steps and his left arm hung awkwardly. He smiled when he saw us, but with the shame-faced air of somebody who knew
     he’d lost control of himself. He wasn’t exactly blocking our exit, but had positioned himself so that we couldn’t pass without
     noticing him. I thought he might want to apologise or justify himself for the fight, but he spoke to me with an attempt at
     a jaunty air, as if nothing had happened.
    ‘I say, that was a most capital blow at the quintain. I only wish I could do half so well.’ Then, to Amos: ‘Would you be kind
     enough to introduce me, Legge?’
    Amos did it correctly enough, though I sensed he wasn’t pleased.
    ‘Miss Lane, this is Mr Miles Brinkburn. Mr Brinkburn, Miss Liberty Lane.’
    Miles Brinkburn’s shapely eyebrows flicked up and down. He might have been surprised by my first name–a cradle gift from
     my two radically minded parents–or perhaps he was registering my unmarried state. Under my gloves, he couldn’t have seen
     whether I was wearing a ring. Either way, there was a hint of speculation in those eyebrows that made me annoyed enough to
     speak my mind.
    ‘That was a downright unchivalrous trick you played.’
    He bowed in the saddle.
    ‘Then I am rebuked. Should I have challenged him to single combat?’
    ‘If you do, you’d better stipulate that it’s on foot,’ I said.
    He winced. It had been ungenerous to remind him that his brother was the better rider, but I wanted to see how he reacted.
    ‘Beauty has a right to severity, Miss Lane. I hope I may be permitted to alter your poor opinion of me.’
    I gave him a cold bow and moved my hand on the rein, indicating that we wanted to ride past him. He stood his ground.
    ‘You obviously have an interest in knightly pursuits, Miss Lane.’ (I hadn’t particularly, but didn’t interrupt.) ‘I wonder
     whether you might be interested to see my ancestral armour.’
    I’d heard some unlikely lines of invitation from gentlemen to ladies, but this was the most blatant yet. I decided he was
     mocking me and replied accordingly.
    ‘I believe I’ve seen it already, Mr Brinkburn. Brought low in the sawdust.’
    He kept his good