In The Devil's Stables (Spirited #1)

Chapter 24: Part Two

"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.