A Lady's Vanishing Choices (20 page)

Chapter 23

A chill of apprehension threaded through Bethany as the gig neared the location of the gravesite. Recalling the terror of that day brought a cramp to her stomach, and she clutched the side of her seat until her fingers ached. She’d hoped never to set eyes on this place again, yet here she was trying to point the way to her reoccurring nightmare.

Royce pulled the gig to the side of the narrow path and halted. The wagon stopped behind him. John and Blair waited for Royce to climb down.

Royce turned to Bethany. “You’re certain this is the place?”

She gazed at the brush that covered the forest floor converging on the narrow, overgrown wagon ruts, marking the passageway southward, and nodded her head. “I’ll never forget. I halted in this very spot. Then I strolled through the woods, my thoughts on my quarrel with Aunt Gertrude.” She indicated the area straight ahead with a gesture. “The digging sound came from that direction.”

John and Blair climbed out of the wagon and waited while Royce scrambled down. He caught her by the waist and lifted her out of the gig. “Show me.”

Royce steadied her when she stumbled over the uneven ground. She caught his hand. Only his presence and his touch kept her calm enough to proceed with the search. Drawing a deep breath, she hoped dredging up all of these horrifying memories would be helpful. If the culprit could be brought to justice, perhaps she could stop looking over her shoulder. At least now the problem was out of her hands.

She pushed through tangled bushes and halted. Pointing with one trembling finger, she whispered, “Over there. The mound of dirt is still visible.”

Turning, she hurried away. “I shan’t watch. It makes me ill.”

Breaking into the track, Bethany raced toward the vehicle where Jem waited with the horses.

Royce strode after her. He helped her into the gig and hesitated before he asked, “Will you be all right if I leave you? I know this is curst unpleasant, but now the work begins.”

She nodded and lowered her lashes, letting a long, low sigh escape.

“You’re certain?” His gaze searched her features.

“I’ll be fine,” she whispered. A feeling of revulsion pricked her stomach, and she shivered. “Try to hurry.”

He kissed her hand and smiled at her. “I won’t be long.”

Jem sat at her side and occasionally shifted impatiently, waiting for the return of the men. He didn’t say a word, but his sighs punctuated the silence that stretched into long minutes. Finally, he jumped down and walked towards the wagon parked behind the gig. Grateful to be relieved of his nervous bouncing leg on the floor, she leaned back against the soft squabs of the seat and tried not to think about that horrible day.

After what seemed like ages, she straightened when Royce and John appeared through the trees with Blair in the rear. The three men carried a burden between them and gently heaved the bundle into the wagon. Royce wiped his hands and dropped something into his jacket pocket.

The smell alone was enough to turn one’s stomach, an unpleasant business all around. Royce strolled over to the gig, and, with a blank expression, he climbed aboard. Meeting the question in Bethany’s eyes, he answered before she asked. “Yes, we did find a body exactly as you suspicioned.”

“Coo-eee,” Jem exclaimed, his countenance lit with excitement while he climbed on the back of the gig. “You never.”

“Afraid so, young fellow,” Royce said. He griped his pocket to be certain he’d secured the evidence.

Jem’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Wot did ya find?”

Bethany wrinkled her nose at him. “Is it something horrible?”

Royce reluctantly fished the object out of his pocket. “It’s evidence. I don’t suppose it’ll hurt to show you.” He opened his palm and the ring flashed in the sunlight.

After the first glance, Jem’s face crumpled. He jumped from the gig and cried, “Mary Rose.”

Royce let out a strangled oath and sped after the boy. He threw an explanation over his shoulder. “His sister.”

Devastated for Jem, Bethany shut her eyes against the world and collapsed against the squabs. There was a killer with a corpse, and he must be aware she watched while he’d buried his victim? That was the only thing that made sense of the attempts on her life. She glanced around uneasily, reassured by the presence of John and Blair in the other wagon. Nevertheless, an eerie feeling raced down her spine and raised goose bumps on her arms. She wished Royce would hurry.

After a prolonged interval, Royce escorted Jem back to the gig. Bethany gathered her skirts and moved over to make room for the boy. Jem’s ravished face expressed her feelings exactly.

Streaks where tears had streamed down his cheeks clearly marked his grief. The boy sniffed once while he climbed into the gig ahead of Royce and dropped into the corner. With blank eyes, he stared into the distance where no one could follow.

When Bethany leaned into Royce’s broad shoulder, he uttered, “I’m filthy.”

“I don’t care.”

He smiled and draped his long arm around her to pull her close. “We shall be home in a bit. No more racketing around where you’re exposed to all sorts of danger.”

“I’m fine,” she whispered. “I just needed you to hold me.”

He gave her a squeeze and glanced at the boy. “If we can apprehend the killer, all this should prove worth it.”

Royce swallowed. His heart raced and sweat dewed his palms. He must remove Bethany from this place and all the danger. Taking her to London appealed to him as never before. She would be safe there. He couldn’t bear it if anything happened to her. John and Sir Blair could remain behind and search for the traitor.

The vehicle arrived at Breen’s cottage in the village and Royce helped an unsteady Jem alight. Royce escorted the young boy inside. It was his duty to let the widow know her daughter was dead. A short while later, he emerged, leaving mother and son to comfort each other. He climbed back into the gig and sank beside Bethany.

“I’m not fit, but rest against me again,” he invited. “I need to hold you too.” He pulled her against him with one arm. With the other hand, he gathered the reins and set the vehicle in motion. “We’ll talk about this when we get home. I must consider all of the ramifications before we decide on any action.”

Following his advice, she shivered. How did one find a murderer with only a body and a ring for evidence? Overwhelmed with hopelessness, the horror of the situation grew when she considered the murdered girl and the threat that hung over her own head.

When they arrived at the hall, she couldn’t wait to be inside and away from the corpse. She watched the wagon roll past, heading around back. Royce jumped down and helped her alight. Royce and Bethany, with John at their heels, entered the house.

The trio strode into the drawing room where Sara waited. John leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. “Forgive me for coming to you in all my dirt. I know how anxious you have been. We did find the body.”

Sara shuddered. “John, no.”

“If you ladies will excuse me, I must rid myself of the evidence of this day’s work,” Royce said and strode to the door with John behind as he mouthed ‘me too.’

Bethany sank into a chair. “What a dreadful day. I feel sick to think about that girl being murdered.”

Sara moved over to the chair facing Bethany and speculated, “Perry’s murder and now this. There have been attempts on your life as well. Where will it all end?”

Bethany suggested, “To make any sense of this, we must gather all the information together. A list. We need a list—everything we know about the murders.” Jumping up, she gathered a quill and a sheet of foolscap from a drawer in the escritoire. She moved a low table a little closer. “Facts only. Information we are certain is correct.”

Before one word could be written, Royce and John returned. Royce headed to the cabinet beside the long windows and poured a small measure of brandy into a glass. “I need a drink after all of that. John, how about you?”

“The same please.” John drew a deep breath. “What an ordeal.”

“We must discuss the murder,” Royce said.

“That is exactly what Sara and I were contemplating. We were on the point of making a list of all the information to hand.”

John stared at her over the rim of his glass and cleared his throat. “A sound idea. Let’s start with the latest murder. Correction, the latest discovery.”

John sat on the edge of his seat. “Mary Rose, Jem’s sister was stabbed several times with a swordstick, or so it seems.”

Royce lifted his brows and injected, “Perry was murdered with a swordstick as well.”

“A swordstick is a gentleman’s weapon. A coincidence, do you suppose?” John peered around at the others.

“Not likely,” Royce affirmed and motioned to Bethany. “Write that down. At least we know we’re probably looking for a cut above the common criminal. No self-respecting bloke bent on robbery would dare bring suspicion down on his head with such a weapon in plain view.”

John nodded in agreement. “True. We’ve ruled out a simple robbery by a thief, so it’s back to a gentleman. Most every gentleman we know carries a swordstick for protection. I have one myself.”

“Where do we go from here?” Bethany questioned.

John grimaced. “If we were in London, I’d suggest that fast set of younger sons, not in the military or with any other gainful employment. Boxing the watch is the least of their crimes for which they do get arrested. It’s a wonder any of them are ever released from the round house, when all is said.”

His expression became more and more disgruntled as he continued, “They consider themselves above the law. I don’t know if any of them would step over the line and commit murder however. Such arrogance.”

Royce studied him for a long moment. “That’s quite a list of complaints.”

John raised his brows. “We did mention swordsticks. All or most of them carry one. And some of the toad-eaters that hang on their coattails are nasty customers.”

“But these men are in London.” Bethany shrugged when she raised the objection.

“Not all. I noticed one of their set here in the village. Not a rich man’s son, but still one of the set nonetheless, Laurent Harcourt.”

“Laurent Harcourt,” Bethany gasped.

“Afraid so.”

Bethany’s voice rose. “You’re not accusing him of murder because he runs with the wrong crowd are you?”

Royce said in a reasonable tone, “Laurent Harcourt always has his swordstick by him. It somehow goes with his smooth ways and good looks.”

“That in and of itself doesn’t condemn Laurent. Linda loves him.” Bethany cast an annoyed glance at Royce.

Daggers of anger flashed between the pair before Royce said, “Don’t forget you are in danger.”

“But, I wasn’t stabbed.” Bethany lifted one hand with the palm up in objection.

“Yet.” Royce cast a dry look in her direction from beneath narrowed lids. “Perhaps this isn’t the best of times to discuss such happenings. Let us continue this debate when we return from our bridal trip. We leave for London tomorrow.”

“But, Royce, perhaps we shouldn’t take our trip as things stand,” Bethany commented.

“That is exactly why we must leave tomorrow. You are in danger.”

“Not when I’m with you,” she said. “Besides, we should search out the killer.”

“John can handle things here. The search shall continue. Possibly be solved when we return.” He glanced at John. “Is that acceptable to you, John?”

John nodded.

“But, Royce—”

“Don’t you wish to have new bride clothes?” He raised his brows and smiled. “Or visit the theater?”

“Unfair. You know I wish it above all else.”

“Indeed. We leave at first light.”

She found the urge to slap the self-satisfied smirk off his face almost overwhelming, but considered the prospect of the trip so alluring she could only return his smile in agreement.

Chapter 24

The next day, excitement curled through Bethany. She could hardly maintain her composure at the thought of traveling all the way to London. Since her tenth year, there had been little opportunity for her to travel much beyond the estate or the village of Chadwick
.

With the morning well advanced and assisted by Royce, Bethany climbed into the carriage. She settled on the padded seat, gathering her skirts so Royce could join her. “What a beautiful, cloudless day.”

Gazing directly at her, amusement sparked in his eyes when he agreed, “Very lovely. It’s perfect weather for traveling.”

A soft breeze stirred the curtains at the windows and the coach pulled out. She took a deep breath as a spirit of adventure and excitement rose inside her. Even viewing sheep grazing behind the hedgerows held an unexpected thrill for her.
“
I’m on my way to London.”

With one arm draped along the back of the seat, Royce cast an indulgent smile at her. He stretched his long legs across the floor and settled back. She caught the scent of his soap, his shaving lotion, wafting around her, alluring, an open invitation to move a little closer. As unobtrusively as possible, she shifted towards him.

A low chuckled escaped him, and he pulled her against his side. “I want this trip to live up to all of your expectations. We shall be in London before nightfall. You and I together, becoming better acquainted, one of the things a bride trip is for.”

Content and in perfect agreement, she leaned into him and gazed out at the passing countryside. She’d hardly slept last night and, being exactly where she wanted to be, she drifted to sleep. It seemed mere minutes when the rattle of the coach wheels over cobblestones brought her awake. “Are we in London?”

“Indeed.” He allowed her to draw away from his shoulder.

With total concentration at the panorama before her, she listened to the linkboys call to one another while they carried passengers to various destinations. The smells, some rank and others pleasing to the senses, drifted into the carriage along with the sounds of a vast number of people on the move.

“Everything is so exciting,” she said gazing at the fancy shops along the way. She sighed. “I’m in London at long last.”

“And tomorrow, we shall purchase some of your bride clothes.”

“I can hardly wait,” she enthused and turned toward the window again. She didn’t want to miss a single thing.

Men with long poles caught her attention as they lit the street-lanterns to chase away the encroaching darkness. Lamps began to shine from the building fronts as well. Gradually the business hustle and bustle retreated and lanterns were replaced with lamps. The carriage turned into a genteel neighborhood of homes where the houses flanked a tree-lined street and lanterns beckoned a welcome.

The coach halted before a two-story, brick house where the coachman jumped down to open the door. Royce helped her to alight and ushered her inside the entryway. She noted the pale yellow walls serving as the backdrop for a curved table holding a vase of delicately scented roses. Candles in sconces on the wall reflected on the highly polished floors with a welcoming gleam.

Bethany found the evidence of such efficient running of the household a trifle daunting. Despite the queasiness of her stomach, she swallowed, straightened her spine, and smiled at the assembled servants.

The slightly plump housekeeper dropped a curtsy after Royce presented her to Bethany. “Welcome, milady.”

Bethany nodded at her and all the other retainers as well.

“Please accompany my wife to the master’s suite and unpack for her.” He turned to Bethany. “I must see to my mail. We’ll dine when we change. I’m famished.”

The housekeeper seemed ageless and more than a little intimidating to Bethany as she led the way. Bethany followed her to the next landing where a young lad struggled up the backstairs with her cases. She showed him where she wanted her boxes and pointed out her immediate requirements to the housekeeper.

With a maid’s assistance, she donned a fresh gown and straightened her appearance before hastening down the stairs. She wanted to spend every possible, uninterrupted minute with Royce, to bask in his full attention and his approval. Before she reached the final step, the knocker sounded. The butler, with a stately tread, moved forward to open the door.

Much to Bethany’s dismay, Eleanor stepped inside with Freddy at her heels. Her gown of blue serge hardly held a wrinkle and every smooth curl belied her tragic bearing. She clasped her hands together and her voice held a whine. “Bethany, I’m completely undone, and I don’t know what to do.”

Alarmed, Bethany questioned, “Uncle Arthur or Aunt Gertrude?”

“No. They are perfectly fine.” Eleanor removed her bonnet and twitched a curl in place.

Bethany’s spirit sank all the way to her toes.
Then what?
She glanced at Freddy and managed a nod, trying to control the urge to shake Eleanor.
Why couldn’t Freddy take care of her problems? He was her cousin as well.
Bethany gritted her teeth and drew a deep breath.
Why intrude on us here in London? Our first night.

Before she could speak, Royce joined the group. “Exactly what is the problem?”

Eleanor flew to his side and dabbed at the corner of her eyes with one gloved finger. “Oh, Royce. Pardon, I meant Lord Rivton. I’ve thought of you as Royce for so long.”

He smiled at her and acknowledged Freddy’s presence with a nod of greeting.

Annoyed, Bethany cleared her throat and called her cousin back to the topic. “Your problem, Eleanor.”

“Oh dear. This is so very awkward. I came to town to visit my aunt. You know, my mother’s sister. Freddy intended to come to London, so when the opportunity presented itself, I begged a ride. I must have mistaken the date on the invitation because her house is shut up. The caretaker said she went on a trip, and he doesn’t know when she may return. What shall I do?”

Royce patted her hand and said, “You must stay with us until other arrangements can be made.”

With thoughts of slapping her cousin, Bethany stared at Eleanor. Each fake tear she brushed away and each sigh she expelled reached down inside of Bethany, stirring up resentment. She recalled the lures Eleanor had once cast at Royce. Not so long ago either. Although everything within Bethany rebelled at the notion, she could do no less than echo her husband’s invitation. She unclenched her jaw and uttered, “Of course, Eleanor. We can’t very well abandon you in the street.”

“You are too kind. You have my undying gratitude.” Eleanor simpered and smiled up at Royce with her hand artfully placed at her throat.

“You see, you’ll be right and tight with Betha, just as I told you,” Freddy congratulated her with a grin. “I must be off.”

“Thank you, Freddy.” Eleanor kissed his cheek before he strode out the door. Amid her luggage, she turned back to Bethany with a satisfied smirk on her lips. “I must change my gown.”

Royce smiled and offered, “I’ll have dinner set back until you are ready.”

Not best pleased to witness Royce’s tender consideration of Eleanor’s plight, Bethany held her breath for a moment. His attitude brought his courtship of Eleanor to mind and Bethany’s stomach burned. Her pulse drummed with anger, and she fought against the urge to hurl something at his head. Pressing her lips together, she struggled for control. It was only due to his chivalrous instincts he’d offered for her. Regardless of the motive, he was married to her now.
Her self-confidence had taken a blow, but she straightened her shoulders and calmly strolled into the parlor.

Royce joined her and paced the length of the patterned rug. “I suppose it is useless to expect her to hurry her toilette for the sake of others.”

“Totally useless,” Bethany stated and sank onto the sofa. The mantel clock had never ticked as loudly or the minutes dragged by so slowly. Dread tightened a coil in her stomach.

Finally Eleanor appeared in a devastatingly beautiful gown of yellow taffeta, more suitable for a ball, every hair in place, and a soft apology on her lips. “Please forgive me. Without my maid, I scrambled into my apparel as quickly as possible.”

Royce held out his arm and she grasped his elbow. He glanced around and waited for Bethany to take his other arm before escorting both ladies into the dining parlor.

Much to Bethany’s chagrin, Eleanor held center stage at dinner. If Bethany had dared to offer a word at the table at Littleton Manor, she’d been ordered to hold her tongue. Silence had always served her best, and old habits die hard. She wished she too had the ability to preside over a pleasant conversation of meaningless nothings.

Longing to attract Royce’s attention and to be a person to reckon with, Bethany sat in silence through the long, tedious meal. Completely out of charity with Royce for his courtesy to an annoying guest, Bethany narrowed her eyes. The polite smile he bestowed on her rankled, especially when weighed against the lavish amount of attention he heaped on Eleanor.

At last, and to her relief, the meal ended. Bethany laid her napkin aside. “I know you must be weary after your journey, Eleanor. I suggest an early night for all.”

Royce stood. “Indeed. I have much to do on the morrow.”

He escorted both ladies up the stairs and parted ways to enter his chamber.

Bethany donned her sleeping-robe after a quick wash and stalked over to the vanity. Several candles glittered in the mirror and about the chamber, displacing the darkness crouched in the corners. The mirror reflected the patterned, light green paper on the walls with dark green hangings at the windows. The vanity and curved mirror complimented the oak bedstead, spread with a white, embroidered coverlet. Disgruntled with Eleanor and the entire situation, nothing about the chamber or anything else pleased her, including the oak armoire that stood against the opposite wall.

She reached for the silver-backed brush to drag it through her hair with a savage motion. The excessive strength of each stroke did little to relieve her pent-up feelings. How she wished she could box her husband’s ears, and she longed to dash a full glass of red wine over Eleanor. Eleanor, with her blond loveliness, her artless chatter, and flirtatious ways, had no business using her charms on a married man.
My married man.

She fumed, unable to control her reactions.
I’m a jealous cat, but of all nights, why did she arrive tonight?
Her feelings of ill-usage finally got the best of her and she threw the brush against the door just before Royce stepped though the opening.

He raised his brows and questioned her with a direct stare. Dressed in a robe, bare legs shone from his knees to his feet. His hands were hooked in the tie at the waist. “Is there a problem, my dear?”

She returned his stare with a glare and tightened her lips. “My hand must have slipped.” She tossed him a fake smile, barely curving her lips.

He moved behind her and cupped her shoulders in his hands. Leaning down, he brushed the long curls away from her neck and placed a kiss against her flesh. His hands drifted lower and she stiffened. Bounding up, she rejected his touch. She whirled to face him.

“No.” Her eyes sparked with heat. “I’m not in the mood.”

His expression darkened. “I can soon change that.” He reached for her again.

She stepped back. “Do not.”

Without hesitation, he gathered her shoulders in his hands again. His eyes had narrowed. “Are you denying me?”

She remained stubbornly silent. Lowering her lashes to cover the thoughts mirrored in her too expressive eyes, she pleated her hands in front of her.

He lifted her chin with one finger. “Are you?”

She jerked her head away. “I—I have the headache.”

He raised his brows. “This headache wouldn’t have blonde hair and blue eyes, by any chance?”

“I wanted this to be a time for us—alone. I hate the way she makes sheep-eyes at you.” With an indignant glare, she continued, “Her tender smiles and softs sighs directed at you make me ill. And with your attention, you encourage her to go past the limit of what is pleasing.”

“I didn’t invite her to arrive on our doorstep. I can’t very well be rude to your cousin.”

“No, but was it necessary to stare into her eyes like a lovesick swain?” she snapped.

He laughed and ran his hands down her arms. “Are you jealous?”

“Jealous, ha,” she refuted with her head thrown back.

He rammed his hands in the pockets of his robe. “Just because I’m a gentleman and paid a little attention to our guest is no reason for you to throw the hammer at me.”

She hesitated, glancing up at him from under her lashes. Was she being overly harsh and blaming him for his manners? Sighing, she lowered her voice. “Perhaps I am jealous.”

Draping one arm around her shoulders, he grinned. “I believe that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He gently led her to the bed. Before they arrived at the other side of the room, he had managed to remove her gown and his own apparel. He sank onto the bed with her in his arms and slowly divested her of her remaining clothing, planting a kiss against her flesh with each movement.

His breath caressed her cheek, then her ear, setting her ablaze with longing. Shivers raced down her spine.

His tongue traced the swirl of her ear and nipped the lobe in a love bite. He rained delicate kisses down her jawline to her mouth, where he nudged inside her lips with his tongue, to explore, delve, and taste. He kissed her throat down to her breast.

She tingled, just beneath her skin, the whole entire length of her body. Every nerve prickled with heat, pooling in her loins. She couldn’t control her ragged breath or her heart hammering as if it might explode when he entered her.

With gentle strokes, he brought them both to the pentacle of delight where shooting stars exploded before the slow drift back down. He gathered her close, pulled the cover over them, and gently kissed her lips again.

“The blessed marriage bed with all its delights,” he whispered.

Bethany drifted to sleep with his words sounding in her ears. During the night she woke. The slight snore emitting from Royce’s throat sounded like a cat’s purr…a very large cat. She snuggled against him, warm and safe. Perhaps he was beginning to love her a little. With that thought, she drifted back to sleep.