"What does it all mean?"

Charlie's question made Greyson laugh bitterly.

Pieces began to fall in line, and with them, others came undone, scattering across his mind's eye and reshuffling.

What had happened that evening? He wondered.

Had it been the accident the constable had declared it was?

Greyson closed his eyes, seeing his father, Benjamin, as he had always been. Every inch the aristocrat in tailored jackets of gray, navy or brown and always a waistcoat of green - Benjamin's eyes an emerald rather than Greyson's own gray ones.

The clip had always resided just there, a gleaming silver on the lapel of his coat. A legacy that had been passed from one earl to another through the generations.

The same clip that had been decidedly absent from Benjamin's body that night. The constable had ruled it a chance of fate. Highwaymen had descended upon his father's coach. A theft that had resulted in a shot to his father's chest and an earldom resting firmly upon Greyson's shoulders until he thought he would collapse.

Greyson laughed harshly.

It seems he had inherited his father's damned protective streak. He had learned years later from his mother that Benjamin had learned of his best friend's death, had sought to comfort the brother.

Greyson snorted, earning looks from Williams and Charlie both before they glanced warily at each other.

Another thing he owed Lord Henry Crowley it would seem. The death of his father.

If only Benjamin hadn't considered it his duty to look after the new earl of Crowley...

If only his father's misbegotten sorrow over the eldest brother, William, hadn't urged him to give his apologies...

If only...

Which led Greyson to: It was only supposed to be one game of cards...

It was only supposed to be one finger of whiskey and a toast for goodwill...

If only...

It was only...

By God, Greyson thought, running a hand through his hair, what would his father do now? What would his father have to say to look at the ruin that had become of his land? His stables? His family's livelihood?

Would Benjamin have thought it was worth his own life now? Would his father have approved of how Crowley had paid him?

He would never know, it seemed.

Greyson laughed harshly, his head coming up but his eyes staring unseeing before him. He could feel Williams' gaze on him, his body hovering in Greyson's periphery.

Charlie touched his shoulder, and he jerked away.

No, it couldn't be, Greyson thought, straightening his spine and glancing away from the corner. His hand clutched the scrap of linen in his fist, the tang of dampness seeping into his skin.

What were the chances, he thought, however, of finding this clip now? Its use being linked to the destruction of his father's stables?

Was it an enemy of Benjamin's, then?

But that circled Greyson around as to what possible purpose?

"Who was working in this part of the stables?" Greyson's voice was a dark rasp breaking up the tense silence between the three.

Shuffling could be heard just around the corner, his staff and the willing tenants that lived on the edges of his property clearing his land, beginning the process of rebuilding.

He glanced to Williams whose jaw was clenched, his eyes shifting restlessly. Greyson watched a bead of sweat track from Williams' forehead down to the collar of his smudged shirt. His blue eyes finally met Greyson's. "That would be another problem, milord."

Greyson's eyes narrowed. "Would you like to inform me as to why?"

The older man cleared his throat. "Well...ye see, milord..."

"Yes?"

The man brought his eyes to Greyson's as his back straightened as much as it could with the weight of the man's belly. Williams' shirt tightened across his thick chest. "I believe I 'ave an idea but no one seems to know where 'e went."

One eyebrow rose. "He?"

Williams' head bobbed in a reluctant nod. "I was questionin' Jimmy, and 'e said 'e saw a gent travelin' along the road..."

He trailed off, catching Greyson's eyes. "In which direction?"

Williams cleared his throat. "Come from the north, accordin' to Jimmy."

Greyson nodded for Williams to continue, his hands planted on his hips as Greyson's eyes fell above Williams' shoulder, glancing about his land.

"'E stopped in an' asked Jimmy for some food and drink since 'e hadn't found an inn to house 'im an such."

Greyson bit his tongue, feeling the bitter tang of blood as it filled his mouth. His eyes roved over the remaining tinder. The tack room had fallen to pieces and even four or five stalls down from where the accoutrements should be, they littered the space not ten feet from him. Burnt leather saddles and bridles lay heedlessly on the floor. Blankets for riding and coats to keep the horse's warm in the winter were riddled with holes and blackened in soot.

"Jimmy let him stay then?"

"Nay, milord," Williams interjected, clasping his hands behind his back. "Jimmy would ne'er do such a thing. 'E went to find me and when Jimmy came back the stranger was gone."

"When was this?"

"The day 'efore last." A small, hesitant voice spoke the words and Greyson turned on his heel. Jimmy stood to the side, his shock of red hair pale against his freckled skin. The remaining stable's wall shielded part of his body, one hand clutching the side of the boards as he stared at Greyson.

"Did you inform Williams straightaway?" When the boy merely stared at Greyson, he found his temper had frayed, wanting answers when none seemed to be given. "Did you not think it odd that a strange man stopped for sustenance and left without a spare farthing or a crumble of bread?"

"W...well, mi...milord," Jimmy tumbled off and tears filled the boy's eyes, sending a stab of guilt into Greyson's chest.

Hell, what kind of ogre was he?

Before Greyson could reassure Jimmy, Charlie moved passed him, casting him a glare over her shoulder as she walked to the boy.

Williams chuckled and Greyson cast him a steadying look which turned Williams' laughter into a husky cough.

That hid a smile.

Greyson narrowed his eyes before giving Charlie his full attention.

Charlie had her hands on the boy's shoulders, cooing softly to him. Greyson wondered if the lady knew she could blow her cover with those gestures, the sweet murmurings she made, as she encouraged the boy to speak.

Did the woman wish to be discovered? Greyson wondered how long he could continue with this farce of her as his stable hand when Charlie urged the boy forwards. They walked as one, Charlie's eyes meeting Greyson's, her eyes practically daring Greyson to issue another harsh word.

Greyson lowered himself, bringing his face level with the boys. "I'm not mad at you, Jimmy. I simply wish to know what happened." When the boy stayed quiet, his gaze going from Williams then glancing over his shoulder to seek the comforting gaze of Charlie. "I promise."

It took a nod from Charlie before the boy returned his gaze to Greyson. "I didn't find 'im none and forgot all about 'im when George called me o'er to 'elp with the horses, milor'. Perseus was bein' a right beastie, 'e was. 'Bout bit George's ear clean off !"

"Er, yes," Greyson broke in wishing to keep the boy on track. One look at Charlie, though, had him clearing his throat and debating his words with care. "When did you...think to mention what had happened...with the stranger."

Charlie gave him a pleased nod, and he released the breath he hadn't been known he was holding. Damned, but he felt like an errant schoolboy that had missed his lessons.

"I forgot all about 'im until Williams be askin' us this morn 'bout anythin' sus...su...picious..."

Greyson smiled as the boy's stumbled over suspicious.

"I...I promise," Jimmy's chin wobbled as he continued, "I didn't...mean no 'arm, sir. I...promise."

Fat tears rolled down the boy's cheeks and he glanced helplessly at Charlie. She sank down next to him, her arm wrapping around the boy's waist. Her forbidding scowl drew her eyebrows into a mutinous line as if the boy's tears were entirely his fault.

"Now look what you've done," Charlie whispered.

Greyson's mouth opened and closed. He glanced at Williams who held his hands, palm out, as if asking what he could do about it.

Some help.

"The earl knows it isn't your fault, Jimmy," Charlie whispered. She shot him another hard look. "Doesn't he?"

Greyson nodded his head mutely, wondering if his mother had inhibited Charlie's body.

"Come along, then," Charlie said. She stopped suddenly, clearing her throat as she glanced from Williams to Greyson. He tried his best not to laugh at the "oh, shite" look on her features. Greyson kept his expression serene, as if nothing untoward or out of the ordinary had happened. Apparently accepting of the innocent expression, Charlie deepened her voice, removing her hand from the boy. "We'll just make use of the kitchens, shall we? Perhaps stop for a tart or two?"

As if a miracle had occurred, the boy's tears halted and a smile lit his face. Bloody hell, Greyson thought, what was happening to his staff?

"I'll race you there," Charlie murmured and they were off, Jimmy's giggles trailing to Greyson's ears.

By God, but when was the last time he had felt so carefree?

Greyson sighed, running a hand through his hair. He walked to Williams, lowering his voice. "Do you think it was this stranger, then?"

Williams huffed. "I can tell ye, milord, that wasn't any of us, if that be yer thinkin."

Greyson groaned.

Did his staff think so little of him?

"I wouldn't dare to question you, Williams," Greyson said, clenching his hand. The shard of flint dug into his palm, the handkerchief no barrier against the glinting piece. Williams held out the clip, and Greyson hesitated before wrapping it securely in the ruined cloth. He must speak with someone about it, Greyson knew. Find out what had happened and what all these scattered pieces of the puzzle meant.

Greyson faced his manor and the contrast of views seemed downright...odd. Vines of lush green and floral fauna cascaded over the light stone while the sun glinted happily against the windowpanes.

The epitome of health against a backdrop of ruin.

"I'll keep hold of these," Greyson said, casting one last look over his shoulder. "Keep asking around. Surely someone saw this stranger besides Jimmy."

Wiliams nodded, turning on his heel as he left the meager shelter of the stables. Greyson barely noticed.

Such weird happenings, all pointing to sabotage. It made bile rise in the back of his throat.

What were the odds that a broke carriage axle and a stable fire could be done by one and the same?

And what did it mean that his father's clip showed up out of the blue?

Coincidence? Or something else entirely?

Greyson had never believed in coincidence. One's fortune - or lack thereof - was based on one's own merit and hard work.

Besides, how many enemies did one make when one was a consummate loner? Only doing business with those that had mares to breed?

Ever since he had met Charlie it seemed things had gone decidedly south.

Greyson's body froze at the thought.

What if...?

But no, Greyson thought, pacing, his Hessians kicking up loose dirt. Sure, Charlie had been present for many of his mishaps but that would be coincidence too.

Wouldn't it?

All these happenings had addled his brain, Greyson decided. He sighed, making his way to the murky sunlight that filtered through the still smoggy air of the stables. His boots thudded on the ground.

What he needed was a glass of brandy.

Yes, just one.

Greyson took another two steps before he thought mayhap two would be better.

But three at the most.

Then and only then would he send a letter round to a constable.

Which would only leave him with one more item on his checklist.

What the bloody hell to do with a lady in his stables.

Face grim, Greyson would have begun just that if the rumble of carriage wheels hadn't permeated his consciousness.

Greyson's face twisted to the left, watching the rambling of a sleek, black carriage clatter into view. As it came closer, a sense of dread churned his stomach.

Bloody hell, it couldn't be...

And yet, Greyson knew deep in his bones who the visitors would be. He didn't need to see the family crest emblazoned on the side nor the blue and silver livery of the attendants riding along the coach.

Everything fell to the wayside as Greyson realized nothing compared to his next task.

Greeting one's mother.

And with that thought came another.

Where his mother went, so too, did his sister.

He swallowed the heavy lump in his throat, his lungs burning and panic clawing. Unwanted memories barrelled through Greyson almost bringing him to his knees.

Georgianna.