Ashton rode up to Rushton Steading, glancing around at the lack of life inside the house. No groom rushed out to meet him. The hairs prickled on the back of his neck as he slid from the saddle and hastily looped the reins of his horse’s bridle over an iron post by the door.
“Cedric?” he called out and walked up the main steps.
The front door was ajar. Ashton tried to push it open, but it only shifted a few inches. He rammed his shoulder into the door and it finally gave. When he was able to slip inside, he froze at the sight of blood streaking across the floor leading to the body of a young man, the body that had been against the door he’d just forced open. Sean Hartley, the footman, lay half-dead on the floor by the door. Around him lay two corpses of men Ashton didn’t recognize. Their
