My Lord Murderer Read Free

friend, and his loyalty to that association overrode his natural inclination to reticent behavior.
    The violence of his knocking did not cause the door to open with more than usual dispatch. The staid and imperturbable Mallow opened it with no trace of having hurried. “His Lordship is in the breakfast room, Mr. Farr,” Mallow said as Wys ran unceremoniously by him and up the stairs. Wys halted abruptly in the doorway of the breakfast room, amazed and annoyed to see his friend seated contentedly at the table looking very much at his ease in a green silk, frogged robe, calmly tapping the top from a soft-boiled egg. “Confound it, Drew, how can you sit there slopping up eggs,” asked Wys in an aggrieved voice, “when all of London is gossiping about you?”
    Drew lifted his amused grey eyes from his plate, looked at his friend and waved him toward an empty chair. “I do not ‘slop’ my eggs,” he answered, returning his attention to his food. “Here, have some of this coffee. I have it roasted in a very special way, and I find it an excellent morning beverage. It seems to liven the spirits when drunk early in the day.”
    “No, thanks, can’t abide the filthy stuff,” Wys said, helping himself to a muffin, a slice of ham, some butter and the pot of marmalade instead. “Well, old boy, you really made a mull of it last night. You’ve got everyone saying you’re a murderer.”
    “Rubbish! London is not Timbucktoo. We have law and order here. Everyone knows that Rowle’s death was thoroughly investigated.”
    “But they don’t know the circumstances. The scene last night stirred up the whole mystery again.”
    “What mystery? Everyone who was present at the duel knows exactly what happened.”
    Wys frowned at his friend impatiently. “That means only five of us— five ! That’s all ! Pollard, who stood up for Rowle; I, who stood up for you; yourself; the doctor; and Selby, who was told after you were hurt.”
    “And the officials and the magistrates. Don’t forget them.”
    “I don’t. But you know perfectly well that they don’t signify. As for the four of us, you made us all swear not to spread the story. And you can be sure Pollard won’t say anything. He’ll be quite content to let people think the worst of you. So it remains a mystery to everyone else who counts.”
    “Let it remain so. I’m not a bit interested in feeding the appetite of the curious for malicious gossip.” And he tried to close the discussion by pressing on his friend another muffin.
    “Aren’t you at all interested in protecting yourself from being called a murderer?” Wys asked in disgust.
    “Not particularly.”
    Wys shook his head. “You’re mad! You won’t be able to show your face at any social gathering. The women will ostracize you. You won’t be invited anywhere—!”
    “Don’t agitate yourself, Wys. It doesn’t suit you. Besides, I have a few good friends who won’t desert me. As for the rest—” He shrugged.
    “And how about your sister?” came a voice from the doorway. “Are you going to shrug her off too?”
    Drew looked up to see his brother-in-law standing in the doorway, his portly frame filling its entire width. Selby stood leaning on his cane, his usually cheerful, chubby face darkened by a scowl. “Ah, Selby!” Drew greeted him. “Good morning. I suppose I should have been expecting you.”
    Lord Selby, realizing that his scowl and his dramatic stance in the doorway were being wasted on Drew, sighed and waddled into the room. He dropped into a chair with a groan of exhaustion. “Might have guessed that getting up early and racing over here would do no good. If Wys hasn’t made you see sense, I don’t suppose I shall either. Good morning, Wystan, old chap.”
    Wys looked at Selby with sympathy. “Had a bad night with your wife, I expect,” he said, nodding understandingly.
    “Hetty’s in a state, I can tell you. Didn’t sleep a wink. Not a wink. Kept at me and at me to tell her