A Feast Most Foul (Ducal Detective Mysteries Book 2) Read online

  Hendrie’s face turned deathly pale at being addressed by the imposing man, but his voice was steady as he responded. “Lord Pettraud and I were out on the veranda from his return at midnight until around three in the morning, Your Excellence. I left just as he was going to bed.”

  “Three in the morning, you say?” The Duke stroked his beard with false thoughtfulness. “It should interest you to know,” Jax’s grandfather said as he turned to meet her square in the eye, their purple gazes burning fire, “that the deceased Master Chalfant was reported being alive until at least four this morning, when he left the gambling tables and returned to his tent. We can safely assume that his death occurred just before daybreak.”

  Jax felt her heart harden as she watched her grandfather prepare for his elaborate finish. “We also found a torn piece of fabric not belonging to Master Chalfant on a bush right outside his camp. Captain Roche, if you will?” With a waving command, the guardsman swiftly opened a nearby bureau, revealing Perry’s wardrobe.

  “Excuse me, but what are you implying, Duke Mensina?” Perry burst forward, his face red with rage.

  “It would appear,” Captain Roche boomed, his voice dripping with disdain, “that this tunic needs mending, Lord Pettraud.” He held up a green shirt, embroidered with the royal seal of his homeland duchy. Jax’s horrified eyes wandered to the hem of the cloth, where a large, gaping hole fluttered in the air.

  “My, my, it looks like we have a match,” Duke Mensina sneered with triumph, watching his granddaughter’s reaction.

  “Lord Pettraud didn’t even wear that suit yesterday, Your Grace,” Hendrie exclaimed, appealing more to Jax than the Duke.

  “It is likely that he changed into it after you left, valet. Your word is hardly valid.” Duke Mensina barked, snapping his fingers at Captain Roche to spring into action. The captain lunged forward and seized Perry, whom to Jax’s surprise made no moves to protest.

  “Anything to say for yourself, Pettraud?” Duke Mensina approached the captive, clearly savoring the moment.

  “Obviously you have already made your own conclusions regarding this matter, Mensina, so I have nothing to say to you.” Perry’s voice was as calm as Jax had ever heard it. “But to Duchess Jacqueline, I ask that she see the truth in my eyes, and find out why I am being framed for a man’s murder.”

  His words kicked her stunned mind into action. “Indeed, Grand-Père, surely you of all people are smart enough to know this a plot of some sort. A man as decorated and accomplished as Lord Pettraud would not be daft enough to leave behind all this incriminating evidence.” Her skillfully chosen words poked at the Duke’s ego, and she saw the briefest spark of insecurity in the old man’s eyes. “Without any witnesses placing Lord Pettraud at the scene of the crime, you must be forced to consider that this man is indeed being framed. By winning the jousting match, as well as being my intended consort, he would be the ideal target to defame.”

  Captain Roche and Duke Mensina shared a glowering look, telling Jax they each knew she had them beat with her logic. “While we will not formally charge the lord until the investigation has concluded, I will exercise my right to detain him in the dungeons until I am satisfied with his innocence.”

  Jax made a move to object, but a small head shake from Perry silenced her. She couldn’t let her feelings get in the way of ducal protocol. “Very well. Who is leading the investigation, Grand-Père? I will work with them.”

  Her grandfather threw his head back, his entire body shaking with laughter. “You will do no such thing, Jacqueline. You are a Duchess. Leave these matters to people who actually understand how to handle them.” Without answering her question, he motioned for Captain Roche to escort Perry out of the room, leaving Jax and Hendrie standing there dumbfounded.

  Rage boiled through her. She couldn’t believe the lack of respect in her grandfather’s response, treating her like an incompetent child. “Hendrie, I ask that you relocate your belongings to this suite. I want you to stay in this room and keep watch until we’ve gotten to the bottom of this mess. Come find me or Uma immediately if anyone other than myself or Captain Solomon tries to enter this room.”

  “Your Grace?” Hendrie’s eyebrows scrunched in confusion, unclear of her intentions.

  Jaz responded with a confident nod. “Quickly, now, Hendrie. We’ve got a murderer to find.”

  Chapter Six

  Jax left a bewildered Hendrie in Perry’s abandoned apartment, a hasty plan brewing in her mind. She hoped George Solomon had taken his men down to the fairgrounds to dig deeper into this Master Chalfant’s past. Figuring out who this man was would help her get a clearer sense as to why he’d been killed, and why Perry was taking the blame for it.

  Upon seeing the torn tunic, she now was completely certain that her suitor was being framed. Perry, always meticulous about his appearance, would never simply leave a damaged piece of clothing without tending to it first. She learned this from Master Duval, her ducal tailor, for he complained often about the surplus of work he now had with Perry living in Saphire. The young lord was always ruining his clothing whenever he rode horses or trained with the ducal guards, leaving it in the care of the tailor immediately afterward. Master Duval may not have accompanied them to Mensina, but as a guest of the Duke, Perry had access to the palace seamstress, and as Duval frequently commented, “That man would have me sew up his shirt first if he had an arrow sticking out of his chest.”

  She felt somewhat ashamed of being more convinced by the torn clothing item rather than Perry’s own pleas of innocence, but as Captain Solomon reminded her, she could not let her personal feelings obstruct her reasoning. While she did not want to admit it, she was terrified by the fate that awaited Perry, now at the mercy of her grandfather. Her stomach flipped at the thought of her intended trapped in the ducal dungeons. She had to figure this whole scheme out before the Duke did something vengeful. The one small beacon was that the Duke knew he needed to be cautious with the handling of this investigation, for the powerful duchy of Pettraud would not sit idly by and let one of its sons be unfairly prosecuted. Her words had put enough doubt in her grandfather’s head that he needed a motive to formally charge Perry.

  The walk to the courtyard seemed endless, but soon Jax felt the sun caressing her face as she stepped out of the shadows of the palace. People were idly milling about the gardens, allowing her to catch snippets of conversation as she marched purposefully along. Most of the talk was about the upcoming hunt, something that completely slipped her mind in the chaos of the eventful morning. She was not looking forward to riding beside her grandfather after their face off, but she knew he would take it as a surrender if she did not show up.

  The large clock tower tolled eleven, warning her that she only had a few more hours until she needed to be seated firmly in a saddle. Clutching her skirts so as not to trip, she snaked off the worn path and dashed into the woods, avoiding detection, which allowed her to run quickly to the outskirts of the festival campgrounds. While she could hear Courtier Jaquobie’s condemning words at her disregard of etiquette— “A duchess never runs, Jacqueline”— she knew she had not been seen by anyone as she stepped out of the shady woods and onto the sprawling fields near the arena. She scanned the scene, taking in the numerous clusters of ornamented tents, each looking too luxurious for camping. She had no idea where to begin her search for Master Chalfant’s quarters, so she hastened her way toward the makeshift galley, fumes of roasted pig and duck wafting through the air.

  Knowing she looked too much like a duchess, her nimble hands grabbed a shabby blanket near a mound of hay and threw it over her shoulders like a cloak. The musty smell hit her forcefully, the essence of horse or donkey tingling her nostrils. Pinching a smidge of dirt between her fingers, she rubbed it furiously on her cheeks, quickly transforming into a tourney wench, a term for wayward women who traveled around with knights for entertainment. Tucking her skirts up to reveal more than a prudent amount of leg, she completed her disguise and rus
hed toward the eating area. If only Jaquobie could see her now.

  “Excuse me,” Jax purred in a husky voice to a man stirring a large, bubbling cauldron, “could you tell me where I might find Master Chalfant’s tent or someone who might know where he is? I need to tell him about a little surprise coming his way,” she crassly rubbed her stomach, making sure not to meet his eyes and give away her royal heritage.

  “Off with you now, you strumpet. Chalfant is over on the north side, near the Savant delegation,” the galley master said as he waved a steaming ladle at her, thwarting her from coming any closer.

  Eager to leave, she gave him a crooked smile and dashed away, nimbly snagging a bumbleberry tart as she departed. Munching on the sweet morsel while she wove her way through the maze of tents and knights, her sharp eyes noticed a familiar face under the Savant banner.

  “George!” She scampered over to the captain of her guardsmen, touching his shoulder in greeting.

  Startled, he turned to look at her, already pushing her away in disgust until he met her gaze. “Jax! What in the name of the virtues are you doing? Look at yourself!”

  His horrified gasps sent her into a fit of giggles. “I had to improvise to make my way down here as quickly as I could. I needed to get down here without being watched,” she explained, growing serious. “George, my grandfather has taken Perry into custody. Apparently, Roche’s men found a ripped tunic in Chalfant’s quarters that matches one hanging in Perry’s chambers.”

  Captain Solomon’s brow furrowed. “Lord Pettraud rushes off to Duval the moment he’s pulled a thread.”

  “I know,” Jax said with a sigh. “I’m certain he’s being framed. Someone broke into his chambers, took the dagger and ripped a piece of the tunic, all before going down to the fairgrounds to murder Chalfant.”

  “It seems like someone has gone to extraordinary lengths to set up Lord Pettraud. Do you think it’s someone looking to sabotage your engagement?” The captain’s brow furrowed as he mulled over the situation.

  Jax contemplated for a moment. “Possibly. But I think the answer lies more in who Master Chalfant is. If the intent was to frame Perry, they could have picked anyone. Why this particular victim?”

  Captain Solomon frowned at the point she raised. “Well, at this moment, I don’t have much to report. The Savant knights he was traveling with said the man pretty much kept to himself. He was quite wealthy for a knight of his caliber. Apparently, Chalfant participated in farcical tournaments rather than real ones.”

  “Farcical tourneys?” Jax’s nose wrinkled with unfamiliarity.

  “Jousts and fights that are laden with comic relief. Often, the men dress up in outlandish costumes and the knight who makes the crowd laugh the most wins,” Solomon rolled his eyes. “A bit of a disgrace to the knighthood if you ask me. Yet, Chalfant seemed highly respected by his current troupe. They said he was a very good fighter, despite how he used his talents.”

  Jax wandered further past a clump of tents, seeing a few Saphire guardsmen in front of a well-ornamented shelter. “Is that his campsite?” She motioned up ahead to the guards.

  Her captain nodded. “We’ve been guarding it ever since Roche’s men cleared out. They wouldn’t let us in while they were searching. I have no idea where they found the torn cloth. Once they left, we did some investigating of our own, but found nothing useful.”

  Jax glided past the statuesque guards, her amethyst eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dim light of the airy chamber. She was immediately filled with surprise as she took in the expensive-looking woven tapestries and rugs adorning the tent’s walls and floor. Plush chairs were positioned in a small sitting area, with just enough room for an ornately designed bed covered in silk pillows. “My, this man traveled in style. Can one really make that much money on the farcical tourney circuit?” She could not suppress her disbelief at the grandeur around her.

  “When you’ve been at it for as long as he was, I can imagine that wealth accumulates over time.” George murmured from the doorway.

  “Makes you regret your decision to join the Ducal Guard, I bet?” Jax quipped in jest.

  “All the fortune in the world couldn’t entice me away, Your Grace,” Captain Solomon said with softness, both resolute and sincere.

  Blushing ever so slightly, she walked around the spacious tent, taking in the sight before her. “Did you or Roche’s men put everything back in its place?”

  Captain Solomon shook his head. “As far as I know, no one really touched anything.”

  “Interesting,” Jax said as she surveyed the immaculate living space. “You’d think that there would have been evidence of a struggle or something. I mean, if the man was as good a fighter as his comrades say, you’d think there would have been a tussle of some sort. There’s hardly even a stain on the floor from where he bled out.” She leaned down, seeing the soiled spot on the rug, no bigger than the width of her hand.

  George came to her side. “You think he was killed somewhere else?”

  “Either that, or he knew the man who killed him, and was unable to fight back until it was too late,” Jax surmised.

  “If we know for certain that he was killed here, we might be able to vindicate Perry once we prove they were not known associates,” Captain Solomon suggested.

  “That won’t be enough for my grandfather, unfortunately. He’s out to let this destroy Saphire and Pettraud’s reputations. Two birds with one stone, so they say.” Jax stood, her eyes scanning the room for anything that might tell her more. “You said before that Chalfant had only recently joined the Savant knights’ delegation. Do we know anything about duchies he’s been to in the past?”

  “I asked his companions, and they had little to offer regarding his background. One believed he was born in Hestes, while two mentioned he spent some extensive time in Tandora,” Captain Solomon reported.

  Looking once more at the myriad of tapestries and furnishings, Jax felt unsettled. “These pieces have come from all over the realm. He appears to be a very well-traveled man. I think I’ll stop in the ducal archives here and see if I can find a record of the various places these farcical tourneys are held.” Her eyes caught an elaborate golden ship’s clock on a small nightstand near the bed. “It will have to wait, though, until after the hunt. I need to return to my rooms and change into my riding clothes. Keep digging into Chalfant’s past, George, and do not leave this tent unattended. I want to know why this man was singled out.” Taking off the shabby blanket, she did her best to wipe her face clear of dirt and grime before leaving the tent. “Come find me as soon as the hunt concludes. I’ll see if I can find anything out from the knights as we ride.”

  With an affirmative nod, Captain Solomon retreated further into the camp on his mission. Jax watched his muscular figure disappear amongst the growing crowd, people returning to the grounds to watch the start of the hunt. Gathering her skirts, she took the quickest route through the woods she could find, fortunately not running into anyone until she crashed into her suite, startling Uma from her reading. “Your Grace! What did you do to your clothes? Your hair? Oh goodness, virtues help me.” Racing to Jax’s side, Uma immediately set to work on reapplying makeup and re-braiding hair, putting Jax back together from her disheveled state.

  A signal horn from the courtyard warned the hunt would begin in an hour’s time. “What do you think the chances are that my grandfather has reserved a horse for me?” Jax groaned, not having the time to secure her own mount that morning.

  “If he did, be careful. The beast will probably buck you off its back the moment you sit down.” Uma chortled, but Jax detected a note of caution in her voice, one that Jax knew she would heed.

  After a few more frantic moments and many reprimands from Uma, Jax was once more in pristine condition, looking lovely as ever, ready for the hunt. “You are a miracle worker,” she declared as she looked at her reflection. Giving Uma a quick kiss on the cheek, Jax slipped out of the room, making her way down to the stables. With
any luck, she’d be able to find herself a solid mount.

  “Jacqueline! You disappeared during breakfast, and I haven’t seen you since!” Amia’s singsong voice chirped down the hallway, and Jax spotted her youngest aunt near the courtyard entrance.

  Uncertain of whether Duke Mensina had spread word of Perry’s capture, Jax smiled tightly. “It’s been a busy morning, preparing for the hunt and all. I was just on my way to the stables to find a suitable mare to ride for the event.”

  “Oh, you must take mine! I won’t be riding this year.” Amia placed a hand over her stomach. “I wouldn’t want to do anything that might cause me to miscarry.”

  Jax’s eyes widened, taking in the news. “You’re with child? Congratulations, dear aunt. I know you have wanted a child of your own for the longest time.” Giving her aunt an affectionate squeeze, she let herself smile with pure joy. Amia’s eyes glistened with happiness as she eagerly escorted her niece to the stables. Jax let her chat away about the baby names she and her husband had discussed, but how Duke Mensina wanted their first child named after him or his late wife. Murmuring acknowledgment in all the right places, Jax kept a watchful eye on all the people they ran into as they made their way to the stables. Throngs of knights were arriving to fetch their horses, buzzing with conversation. Jax strained to eavesdrop, but Amia’s prattling drowned out most of the chatter.

  “Oh, that man is even more handsome in the daylight,” Amia said with a longing sigh. Her sudden change in topic drew Jax’s attention back to her. Following her dark purple gaze, Jax noticed her aunt staring at the backside of Sir Antoine as he brushed a brilliant white stallion with affection.

  “Sir Antoine, I must say your horse is quite lovely,” Amia said.

  Antoine turned around and offered a pleasant response, all but ignoring Amia’s blatant flirtation. “Maximus is my ultimate prize. I won him in a tournament the last time I was in Crepsta.”

  Jax’s eyes lit up. “He’s one of the Crepsta stallions? I have one back home myself: Mortimer.” She took in the true beauty of the legendary breed of horses. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a white Crepsta.”