A Lady's Vanishing Choices (14 page)

Chapter 17

Royce emerged from the house in a more determined frame of mind. With a firm line of action before him, the helpless rage fueling his restless frustration had eased. His headache lessened with the filling of his belly, and thankfully he could function again. In charge once more, he straightened his shoulders and marched toward the stable. There was something he intended to do—bring the killer down.

Entering the stable, he mounted his horse and headed for the village. He had questions that needed answers, but his resolve faltered when the afternoon sun dimmed through the moisture filling his eyes. Furtively wiping his lids, he gazed into the distance. Grief for his brother would always be his, but he shoved self-pity away and stiffened his spine.

The rays from the sun managed to pierce the thick foliage of the trees casting shadows on the trail. He ignored the frantic chattering of a squirrel above him. Nothing could be allowed to distract him from his mission to bring Perry’s murderer to justice.

While he traveled through the stand of elms, the memory of Bethany walking down the trail in the dark rushed forward to overwhelm him. Why had she been out after nightfall? Did it have anything to do with treason? He tightened his grip on the reins
.
He caught a disturbed breath and fought free of the image of Bethany. Let John deal with that issue. He had a task—to find Perry’s murderer, regardless.

Dismounting before Maggie and Ed’s shop on High Street, he stepped through the door. He spied Ed behind the counter, and the faint sound of singing floated to him from the back quarters. Royce curled his fingers when a swift stab of annoyance shifted through him.
The sound of such cheerfulness grated on his nerves.

“Afternoon, Ye Lordship.” Ed paused in wiping some merchandise free of dust. With a sharp look, he peered at Royce from under heavy brows. “Wot can I be doing for ye?”

Royce returned the store clerk’s perusal, moved to the counter. “I understand you discovered my brother in the alley.”

Ed bobbed his head. “Me and the missus heard a thumping sound against our wall. I grabs my pistol and run out and finds him. He was a layin’ there, done to death, his pockets turned out and not a fob or ring left to him—poor boy.”

The graphic details lacerated Royce’s senses, but he managed to compose his features. “Would you please tell me everything you remember about the incident?”

“Ed, whose ears you bending now?” Maggie interrupted when she entered from the back of the store, a smile of welcome on her face. “Oh, Your Lordship.” Her warm smile faded to a hostile expression.

“It’s Lord Rivton, come to ask after his poor, departed brother.” Ed glanced at his spouse.

Maggie gazed at Royce for a long, intense moment. “How can we help? It grieves me ya brother was done in by that pierce of work wot killed him. Sir Perry, he wanted to marry my Bethany, you know.” She shook her head and banished the wistful expression from her face. “Too late, too late.” She sighed. “That don’t signify no more. No seein’ the end of it, when all’s said. Such a coil.”

“I very much hope you are incorrect in your assumption. I plan to hunt the cur down. No matter what it takes.”

Ed speared Lord Rivton and then Maggie with his gaze. “That’s as may be. Where do ye start?”

“With your explanation.” Royce’s throat closed for a brief moment before he continued. “Please tell me everything you recall about the night I lost Perry.”

Ed seemed to gather his thoughts. “Me and Maggie was cozy like after a hard day. We has our feet up. Least I do—waitin’ for a late supper.” He cast his wife a sheepish grin. “I heard a thumpin’ against the wall. The one next to the alley.”

“You actually heard my brother being murdered?” Royce snapped. A blaze of anger warmed his cheeks. He quickly averted his gaze. Not his fault that Perry had died.

“No need for a pucker, Ye Lordship. We had no notion murder was bein’ done. Like I says, I grabs my pistol and run out the door with Maggie two steps behind me. We come upon that poor boy. He was bleedin’ somethin’ fierce.” He lifted his hands in despair. “Nothin’ to do for him. Like I says, he was nearly gone. In a blink, he were done for.”

“Did you see any one or hear anything else?” Royce questioned leaning forward, anxious for a single word that might lead him to the killer.

“No, Ye Lordship. Me and Maggie, we was intent on helpin’ your brother. It was a hem set-out, that’s wot.”

Maggie glanced up at Royce, then quickly dropped her gaze. “Sir Perry came in earlier for a box of Brown Boy snuff. Sorta in a fit of the dismals, he was, and headed to the church after he left here.”

“He didn’t mention a chance meeting, perhaps with a stranger?” Royce questioned. A hint of desperation crept into his voice, and he could read the sympathy in their eyes.

“No, he never.” She shook her head. “Only stranger in town, and him not being a complete stranger, is Laurent Harcourt. He’s courting the vicar’s daughter, Linda. He came through here a gabbing bout this quaint little village.” She sniffed. “He had his nose in the air, too. Said as how he’d be bringing his sister to visit with Linda. I could tell he considered we was somehow not up to scratch. Never did lay my eyes on her though.”

“Have you seen anyone else out of place in the village?”

She shrugged. “A body can’t be knowing every soul that abides here bouts, wot with all the servants and friends of the gentry. I see most folks, if they ride through, not stopping. I seen a few new footmen, maids, and the like coming and going. Come to think on it, I do recollect another stranger traveling though the village.” She glanced at her husband. “Ed, do you remember the lady wot came through here a while back?”

Ed grimaced. “Wot lady? I seen plenty of ladies.”

Maggie rolled her eyes. “I was tolerable busy that day, but bless their hearts, people being what they are, there was talk about how much she looked like my Bethany. Don’t know where she came from or where she went.”

“Oh, her.” Ed rubbed his chin. “She did look remarkable like Bethany. Same size, same color of hair and the like, but she disappeared in a flash.”

Royce raised one brow.

Maggie nodded at him. “She might be back. I’ll keep my eyes open and my ears to the ground, so to speak.”

“I appreciate the offer. I certainly am searching for information. Thank you for your time and your explanations. You’ve been most helpful.” Royce smiled, anxious to be away to think about all the couple had said. “If you think of anything else, however trivial, please send a note round at once.”

Alert once more to his surroundings, he nodded again and departed the premises. The thought of Perry’s last minutes brought a lump to his throat. Maggie said Perry seemed to have a case of the dismals.
That is my fault, and now he’s gone
. Royce fought with his memories and guilt the entire ride back to the hall.

He made straight for the stable on his return. Hopkins waited, poised to take the reins into his capable hands. Royce dismounted in one fluid motion and followed Hopkins into the interior of the barn. “How many times must I tell you, it isn’t necessary for you to groom my horse?”

“Tain’t necessary for you. For me, it tis. Leave be.”

Allowing Hopkins to have his way, Royce sighed and changed the subject. “Think on, Hopkins. I’ve an assignment for you.” Good old reliable Hopkins. He rarely appreciated his dependable henchman as he did at this moment. “It will be right up your alley . . . snooping and tracing a fairly new fellow about town. I need to know everything you can discover about Laurent Harcourt.”

Hopkins eyed him over the back of the stallion as he removed the horse’s gear. “You mean that fancy fella, wot calls hisself a fencin’ master? You meanin’ him, do ye? Wot put ye in a takin’ bout him—besides him bein’ young and handsome?” He gave a wicked grin. “And the girls chase him somethin’ fierce—rumor has it.”

“He is the latest arrival in town, and he drifts in and out. There might be something going forward with him.” Royce gazed over at his batman.

“But he’s a courtin’ that pretty little daughter of the vicar. That be reason enough for his bein’ in Chadwick sometimes.”

“Correct. A feeling of disquiet assails me every time I come face to face with the fellow. He seems too foppish by half. I don’t know what exactly annoys me about him the most, besides his choice of apparel. I’ve seen Harcourt a few times, and he wears lace cravats and ruffles too.” He didn’t try to keep the scorn out of his voice. “I would place him at the top of my list of suspects for the murder.”

Hopkins probed, “How’s that?”

“I don’t like him. In my mind, he’s a suspicious character, a bleater, and not quite on the up-and-up. Not that the vicar’s daughter isn’t well enough, but it appears as if he’s trying for a façade of respectability to cover his true self.”

Hopkins shook his head. “Ye figured all that out after only meetin’ the bloke a few times?”

Royce glared at him and continued as if he hadn’t said a word. “I watched him with his sword. Reason enough. He’s deadly. John just mentioned his sister died a few days ago, before Perry was killed. I assume he was by her side at that time.”

“Why ye want a report then?

“To ascertain if that theory is correct. Was he indeed with his sister? There’s still that other business as well.”

“Wot business?”

“I trust you to keep this under your hat. I need your help because Harcourt may be involved in something shady connected to treason.”

Hopkins gave a soft whistle. “Treason. Against England?”

“Is there any other kind?” Royce asked and leveled a stern gaze at his henchman. “I want him watched, if you please.”

Hopkins saluted. “No need to come the ugly with me, Ye Lordship. Be happy to be doin’ something useful for ye. I’m fat and lazy round here.” He gave a reminiscent smile. “It’ll be jus like the good old days. You crack the whip, and I dance.”

“See that you do.” Royce grinned. “Set your friend Gregg to work. The criminal element he numbers amongst his acquaintances should be useful. Someone might try to sell my brother’s watch and fob. Perhaps his ring as well.”

“Course, Ye Lordship.”

Royce trudged toward the house in a better frame of mind. Until today, he hadn’t considered the disappearance of Perry’s pocket-watch and his ring. The distinctive design on the ring should make it easier to trace. For the first time since his brother’s death, he could hope.

Needing all his efforts focused on capturing Perry’s killer, he no longer had the patience to help John and his cronies search out the traitors. However, he still had an obligation to be polite to his guest, even though they were spies. After all, it was for king and country. He tightened his lips. The effort not to bite the heads off of his cousin, and the other gentlemen present, ate at his nerves the entire endless day.

Dinner seemed interminable, and he couldn’t wait to leave the company behind, but once in his chamber, he began to pace. Finally he disrobed and climbed into bed, his thoughts whirling with his next move.

No matter how hard he tried, sleep evaded him and, in the middle of the night, the restless demons drove Royce from his bed. Barely taking time to scramble into his britches and boots, he donned his shirt on his way out into the darkness and straight to the stable. It suited his mood to ride, and he intended to go at a furious pace along the narrow trails around his estate until his spirit eased.

He saddled his horse instead of calling one of the stable hands and mounted up. His stallion’s thundering hoof beats drummed along the trail in a steady rhythm, soothing his soul. Moonlight bathed the path where it snaked in front of his steed, and regardless of his reckless abandon, he could see to guide his horse.

Royce raced against memories and grief. Perry had been in and out of love so many times, he’d lost count. Some had even cost him a bundle of blunt. So why had he insisted Bethany was the one? Why had Perry been so stubborn and heedless? Royce had examined Perry’s motives back then and come to the conclusion Perry had been merely asserting his manhood, pushing back, only to show Royce he could. Royce never dreamed this would be the outcome of his own interference.

Why had he been heel enough to dump all of his guilt and shame at Bethany’s feet? If only. If only he had it to do over again, would he make a different choice? Choose between his brother and Bethany. That thought burned and roiled his emotions with agony, and he spewed out a savage curse.

A thrashing sound in the lake drew his attention away from his never-ending self-accusations. He reined his mount to a halt. Moonlight silvered a drenched figure of a woman struggling at the edge of the shallow water.

Darkness and eerie silence trapped Bethany. She couldn’t breathe. Water surrounded her, over her, under her, everywhere. Forcing her eyes open turned the nightmare into harsh, deadly reality.
I’m going to die.

Where am I? Why am I in the water?
For a second, she didn’t know how to escape from the clinging, life threatening blackness.
Think.
Fighting to remain calm, she twisted around in the water until she spied light from the moon filtering through the shadowy depths of the lake. Bethany kicked toward the surface. Struggling to swim, she raised one arm over the other and kicked with all of her might. She swallowed a mouthful of water when her head broke the surface of the lake.

Quickly searching her surroundings, she shivered in the chilled night breeze. Her drenched hair clung to her neck and goose bumps raced along her skin. She glanced around and could detect the shoreline only four or five feet away. Fighting to keep afloat, she struggled toward the bank as best she could. Her pulse pounded, and she couldn’t fully catch her breath. Weak and almost helpless, fear overwhelmed her, but she forced herself onward. Nothing made any sense. The murky smell of mud at the edge of the water drew her towards the embankment.

She sputtered and tried to still her cough. Staggering to the edge of where the deep water gave way to a shallow, sandy bottom, she fought to remain upright. Bethany covered her mouth to quiet the sound of her breathing, to listen, to search for the menacing presence of whatever threatened her. Frozen in terror, with the sensation of evil lurking in the shadows, she shivered.