Behind The Horseman (The Underwood Mysteries Book 3) by Suzanne Downes Page B

persecuting the Underwoods and would seem, in his own opinion at least, to have ample reason for doing so, but whatever the truth, he had left no clues to be followed.
    Unfortunately this merely convinced Underwood of his guilt.  If he did not have something to hide, why should he cover his tracks so carefully?
    This conviction did nothing to ease matters when he finally met Mrs. Rogers.  There was very little to be said to a woman when one suspected her son was threatening to hurt, or possibly even kill, oneself and one’s pregnant wife.  Her first words did nothing to mollify, “Mr. Underwood, you are a friend of Godfrey, I believe.”
    They were in the Pump-rooms, Mrs. Rogers still in her widow’s weeds, made a stark contrast to the mainly colourfully-garbed visitors to the Spa.  She had evidently sought Underwood out, and having found him, set her steps purposefully in his direction.  Underwood, unusually for him, was momentarily stumped for an answer.  He realized at once who she was – her dress of unrelieved black told him that much, and strangely there was a certain, fleeting resemblance to her son.  He could not bring himself to deny friendship to the woman who had given Rogers life, on the other hand, he could neither bring himself to admit and alliance to one whom he roundly despised.  Gathering his wits, he held out his hand to her, “Mrs. Rogers?  Allow me to offer my sincerest condolences for your loss.”
    She graciously allowed her hand to lie briefly in his and thanked him gravely,
    before adding, “Might I sit with you, sir?  I would have words with you and the opportunity may not again present itself.”
    “Certainly, madam.  May I fetch you a cup of the waters?”
    “No, thank you.”  She seated herself and looked steadily at him for several seconds, much to his discomfiture.
    “You do not seem to be at all similar to my son’s other friends, sir,” she said at last.
    “I’m very sure of that!  In point of fact, to describe me as a friend of Godfrey is rather misleading.  I tutored him at Cambridge.  We would be more accurately described as mere acquaintances.”
    Her face seemed to clear of some of its troubles, “Ah, I understand.  In truth, Godfrey had latched onto you, presuming heavily upon a previous association.”
    Underwood debated whether to spare her feelings by denying this, but on reflection found he could not.  His innate honesty asserted itself and he answered baldly, “Yes.”
    “I apologize for my son – and for my own encroachment on your time.  Allow me to waste no more of it.”  She made as though to stand, but his hand instinctively shot out to stop her hasty departure, “Please do not leave, Mrs. Rogers.  I would value a few moments of your time.”
    She was surprised, and she showed it, “I cannot imagine what you think you have to discuss with me, Mr. Underwood.”
    “Would you be so good as to answer a question, madam?”  he asked politely, ignoring her astonishment.
    “Certainly, if I am able.”
    “Why did you seek me out when you thought I was a friend of your son?”
    She coloured a little, but was determined to be honest, “That rather depended upon the sort of man I felt you to be.  If, as I found, you were a gentleman, drawn into Godfrey’s circle in ignorance of his true nature, I should have warned you against him.  If, on the other hand, I had discovered you were one of his ilk, I intended to attempt to frighten you away from him by threat of law.  A mention of the Bow Street Runners has proved not unsuccessful in the past.”
    “I imagine it has.  Forgive my bluntness Mrs. Rogers, but I see no reason to pretend ignorance.  I understand Godfrey has been a less than perfect son, and that you are even now planning a court action which promises to sunder you still further – probably irrevocably.  That being the case, why bother to seek out his cronies and warn them off?”
    She held his glance with eyes which held a