A Lady's Vanishing Choices (22 page)

“Very well, this way,” she directed and led the way down the hall. “She was always so neat, poor dear.”

Unlocking the door, she pushed the panel inward. She gasped when she gazed at the disorder in every corner, drawers emptied on the rumpled bed, pillows thrown about, and clothing strewn on the floor.

A man garbed completely in black with a handkerchief over his face dove out the opened window, tearing the curtain from its moorings. Royce stormed through the chaos on the floor and reached the window in time to watch the crook sail over a fence, disappearing into the trees. Before he could give chase, the sound of wheels rattling away at breakneck speed penetrated the room.

Royce struck the windowsill with the palm of his hand, but refrained from uttering the curse that rose to his lips.

“Oh dear, a thief in our little town.”

“Perhaps it would be best if I sifted through what remains of the lady’s belonging to see if the crook left anything behind. I’m certain the constable will be along shortly.” He quietly urged her out the door and firmly shut it behind her.

Quickly sorting through the jumble of clothing, both on the bed and the floor, he cast an exploring gaze around the room. Methodically, he began to search every nook and cranny with no results. Frustrated, he clenched his teeth. There must be something. The only place he hadn’t thoroughly inspected was the chest empty of all its drawers. He shrugged and peered inside, only to discover the corner of a piece of parchment wedged at the back. Pulling forth a letter, he examined the broken wax seal depicting a rose and sword. At the heading alone, he caught his breath and anticipation raced through him.

My Dearest Sister, Joliet,

I know you are lonely without me. Be patient for only a while longer, and we will be on our way home to France. Bonaparte will be thrilled with the amount of information I have gleaned. We will be rich and respected in our country. Not in this place where people look down on us, suspect us at every turn.

Never fear, I shall do away with anyone standing in our way. I made a vow to never allow another man to rule my life when your father turned our mother against me. I only wanted to return to France. Is that so horrible? He ranted that I was insane.

When he tried to turn you against me too, I considered it the last straw. Don’t be upset with me for what I had to do. He and my mother cared only for each other, never us. For your sake, I regret he had to die to set me free and that our mother was with him. You never outwardly judged me for keeping us safe and together.
Qu'est-ce
qui sera
.

I’ll be with you soon. All of this will be behind us then.

Your Loving Brother

Royce folded the letter and placed it in his jacket pocket. Ill to his stomach at the evidence of such a depraved mind, he straightened the room and headed back to the inn. He hoped the villain would appear at the gravesite tomorrow morning.

He let out a deep sigh when a stern-faced man stood when he stepped into his chamber. The constable, no doubt. After a long discussion about his eyewitness account of Joliet’s death, he retired for the night. Too restless to sleep, he paced, glancing out the window at the full moon. The urge to ride out in the middle of the night fought with his good sense. He had to know if the killer would appear at the burial. If a stranger appeared, Royce planned to follow him. If Bethany knew him, perhaps he did as well. At some point, he’d capture the culprit.

Close to dawn, he managed a few hours of sleep before rising to meet the new day. Soon after, he swallowed a small repast before leaving for the church. Besides the constable, the only other mourner present was the inn clerk. Royce carefully surveyed the surrounding area on the alert for the simplest thing out of place at the cemetery. The smell of freshly overturned earth swirled around him while he inspected every shadow beneath the trees.
Nothing.
The vicar droned out a brief eulogy. Disgusted and disappointed, after the interment, Royce mounted his horse for the return trip to London.

Moonlight silvered the graveyard and washed over the man in black as he knelt beside the newly mounded grave. A chilled breeze swept through the brush at the edge of the field, disturbing the silence of the cemetery with a slight rustling sound.

The mourner shivered and sobbed, great heaving sounds of anguish, beside the lowly stake to mark the gravesite. He plowed his hands through the dirt and lifted some to his face. After several moments, he threw the soil back onto the ground and rose to his feet. He raked his fingers though his dark, curly locks.

If only. His beautiful sister—why had she forced him to take her life? She would have unintentionally denounced him. Yes, being but a female, weak and young, she would have betrayed him. He had even gone to great lengths to provide her with a cover—her own death—but now she was truly gone. A girl to die in her place had been purely genius on his part. He had even arranged a new name and direction for her so she would be safe. All for naught.

When that pompous Rivton had finally tracked her down, he could tell by her expression, she would fold on him. He’d run her down with his gig right in front Rivton, but he hadn’t glanced back. He hadn’t wanted to actually see her broken body, or see her lovely face crushed. No, he hadn’t looked.

The stupid little chit had given her own name when she’d sold a few stolen items for him, a mere week after she was supposed to have passed away. That must be how that Rivton character had traced her. No matter how it had happened. Now she was lost to him forever.

Only a little while longer and he would have taken her, safe and sound, home to France. Now everything was ruined. But he would continue. He couldn’t afford to stop now. He was so very close to his goals. The names of the traitors in France were very nearly in his pocket.

That young profligate, the earl’s brother, with his bronze, good looks had nearly caught him holding some documents that would have sent him to the gallows. Deep sobs escaped and racked his body for several long minutes. Finally, he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and raised a fist in the air.
Both paid. None shall stop me. Not even that Lord Rivton. He’ll be next.

Chapter 26

Royce strode into the entrance, weary but anxious to catch sight of Bethany. The fragrance of lemon wax mixed with the delicate scent of roses welcomed him home. He headed straight for the stairs. Before he could ascend, John emerged from the parlor.

“Any luck?” he asked, leaning slightly forward.

At that moment, Bethany entered the hallway, glanced down at him, and smiled. Royce’s heart slammed against his ribs, and he came close to sagging with relief.
She’s safe.

Straightening his shoulders, he signaled John to leave the enquiry at present with a brief shake of his head. He continued up the steps and gathered Bethany’s fingers in his own. “My dear, how do you fare?”

“Very well, thank you.”

Her voice pulsed in his ears with sweet pleasure, sending a thrill of desire pooling in his loins. Overwhelmed with the yearning to carry her off to his chamber, to tell her of his devotion and make passionate love to her, he had to fight to control his emotions. Her welcoming smile tempted him to kiss her soft lips. Such a display before others was the height of impropriety, especially since he couldn’t promise to stop with a simple kiss. He drew a deep breath and returned her smile.

“You appear radiant.” He brushed a kiss on the back of her knuckles. Relieved to find her in health, he added a little squeeze to her fingers. “Forgive me for coming to you in all my dirt, but I shall be in a better frame shortly.”

Turning, he said over his shoulder, “It’s lovely to be home again.” Without a doubt, the stares of the others followed him out of sight while he continued up the stairs. Only then did he allow his fists to clench and a scowl to pleat his brows. This confounded business was a total disaster and must remain confidential. What and how much of the situation should he tell the ladies?

After he’d washed and changed, he made his way back to the drawing room. He entered and observed Bethany seated beside Sara on the sofa. John stood with one arm propped against the mantel, his foot on the edge of the hearth. Royce gazed around and noted Eleanor’s absence. Relief speared through him. He didn’t want her in the discussion that must follow.

“Where is Eleanor?”

Bethany shot him a look from beneath her lashes, and her lips thinned. “In her chamber recruiting her strength. She found riding in the park with Freddy most fatiguing.”

Royce tried not to laugh, but he couldn’t refrain from adding a comment, “Indeed. I’d find being left alone in his company beyond tiring myself.”

“Royce,” Bethany chided, but she grinned.

He took a seat and indicated John should do the same. “There is a situation we must discuss. Just among the four of us, you understand.”

Both ladies gazed at him, nodding in agreement, their faces alight with expectation.

“I had the intention of questioning the person who sold Perry’s stolen watch and fob—Joliet Savoy.” He glanced at each lady in turn. “I decided you would be better served with full knowledge of the facts of this present situation, suitable or not for the telling. I preferred to guard your sensibilities, but in all good conscience, could not withhold vital information.”

“I think we can bear up,” Sara retorted. She exchanged a look of disgust with John.

Royce leaned back and crossed his ankle over the other knee. “John, please take over the tale.”

John sighed. “Joliet Savoy is heavily involved in espionage. We suspect her brother of being her partner in her crimes. She stole documents from a few gentlemen in the government and also swiped jewels from the royal family.” He paused and drew an uncomfortable breath. “All of this is highly confidential.”

Sara sniffed. “Naturally. You work for the Foreign Office.”

“Just so.” With a tight voice, John continued, “More to the point, Mary Rose was somehow connected to the espionage. We are reasonably certain that’s the reason for her death. There is another girl, a friend of Mary’s, who went with her to call on Miss Savoy. It’s presumed the visit occurred while Joliet’s brother was there. Mary Rose is dead and the other girl is missing. I don’t know if the girls were involved in treason or not, but Joliet’s brother is defiantly entangled in the thick of it.”

Royce grimaced and continued from where John had left off. “Our main objective was to locate Joliet Savoy. We did—buried in a graveyard outside of Bath, or so we thought. Someone else is actually buried in that grave.” He gave the ladies an opportunity to digest this information.

On the edge of her seat now, Bethany demanded, “Who?”

“Dorothy Fronsworth. I witnessed the real Joliet Savoy’s death.”

Bethany gasped, “Royce, no.”

He nodded with a grim tightening of his lips. “She fell beneath the wheels of a gig purposely aimed to kill her.” He growled, “I witnessed just such a conveyance try to run you down, Bethany.”

“Every woman who knew Joliet’s brother is dead, or in great danger.” John added, “Where you’re concerned, Bethany, it stands to reason, you do know the brother. That is the only answer.”

“I do not know a murderer,” Bethany denied and shivered. “Why would I be a threat to him? I didn’t know Joliet.” She shrugged. “Mary Rose is dead and I didn’t know her friend either, so why?”

Royce interrupted, “I’d say because you witnessed him burying her body. You’ve been drugged and dumped in the lake, staged to appear as if you drowned by accident. The girth on your saddle was cut to appear as another accident. You were nearly run down too. That could have appeared as an accident.” He studied Bethany for a long moment. “He wants the only witness to his crime to disappear.”

He rubbed his palm over his head and down the back of his neck. His stomach churned with anger and doubt when he posed a question, “Did he murder Perry? I wonder.”

All of this seemed impossible. Bethany didn’t know anyone remotely resembling a killer or a traitor, and she wasn’t involved in treason. She considered herself simply an ordinary girl caught in a nightmare of circumstances
.
“If Mary’s friend is in danger, shouldn’t we warn her or something?”

“I’ve sent a man to advise her of the danger and to stand guard,” John said. He fished an item out of his pocket and presented it to the others. “I took another stroll around Mary Rose’s gravesite and found this. Bethany, have you ever seen it before?”

She leaned forward and after a brief glance she shook her head.

Royce grasped the item and examined it. “Looks like a wax-seal.” He turned the object over. “There’s an emblem on it. A shield with a rose and a sword.” Excitement threaded through his voice. “The letter I found in Joliet’s room had been stamped with this seal. I’d bet on it.”

Royce threw the seal in the air and caught it with a flourish. Pulling the letter from his pocket, he placed it on the table in front of the sofa. The imprint in the wax on the parchment matched perfectly. “As I suspected, Mary Rose was murdered by Joliet’s brother. The same man you witnessed burying the body, no doubt.” He laid another piece of jewelry on the table. “There is Mary’s ring.”

Bethany shuddered as the image of the murdered girl flashed into her mind. Thankfully she hadn’t actually seen the lifeless body. She drew back.

John sat forward and examined the item. He gave a low whistle. “By thunder. I believe ‘tis one of the pieces stolen from the royal family. That certainly ties the murderer and traitor together.”

Royce’s gaze darkened. His lips thinned. “Yes, and Bethany is acquainted with the killer and the traitor, since they are one and the same.”

Bethany drew a deep breath. Her eyes widened with alarm. “The killer might know me, but I do not know him.”

In an urgent tone, Royce said, “Certainly you are acquainted with him, else how did he know where to find you?”

“I don’t wish to consider such a thing.” She blinked, hoping the image that conjured in her mind would disappear. Alarmed, she swallowed and lowered her voice. “What if the murderer attends our ball?”

“A splendid notion,” John enthused with a grim smile. “It shall fit perfectly into my plan to move things forward. I think we need to leak a little information. Set a trap. Catch him with his own game.”

Sara had doubt written all over her face. “What kind of trap?”

Bethany wanted to shout at John to wait, but fear had tightened her throat to such an extent, she couldn’t speak. She could only shake her head.

“Let’s announce Bethany had a clear view of the killer. That should set the cat among the pigeons.”

“No, John,” Royce exclaimed with a frown of disapproval.

Bethany could only applaud Royce’s instant defense of her while she allowed her breath to slowly escape in a sigh. She wanted everything clear and straightforward. “You’re not serious, are you?”

“Never more so,” John said.

“I forbid it,” Royce gritted out between his teeth. “Bethany has been at the center of danger since the beginning.”

“All the more reason to lure the villain in, but if you have a better plan, I’ll listen.”

With her heart in her throat, Bethany gazed at Royce, waiting for him to rescue her. Any plan had to be better than what John proposed.

Royce stood and paced the length of the carpet. “The brother certainly realizes this Abigail person can identify him. Let’s hire her to serve at the ball. If he dares to show his face, she’ll recognize him.”

“Indeed.” John shook his head. “However, she can’t place him at the gravesite, and he knows it. Only your wife is able to do so. The killer must be stopped before he succeeds in killing her.”

In desperation, she shook her head. “Something will happen. I feel it. Something dreadful.”

John eyed her with determination, his features set. “Fustian. Nothing shall happen, except we may catch the villain.”

Bethany drew back against the settee. There seemed to be no way to convince him to change his mind.

Royce crossed over to her and pulled her to her feet. He shaped her face with one hand. “Don’t be afraid. The killer must be apprehended as soon as may be. John has convinced me of that. You are in danger every moment he runs loose. If I allow you to participate, you shall be guarded every moment,” Royce declared. With a grim visage, he cast a rapier stare at John. “I’ll see to it personally. You’ll never be more than an arm’s length from my side.”

John joined the fray. “I’ll have a number of soldiers from the Horse Guards attend in disguise. He would necessarily be as bold as may be to try anything with a house full of people.”

“He wouldn’t try and kill me at the ball. That’s nonsensical.” Bethany trembled. Trapped and compelled by her need to help capture the villain, she would be on display before the killer, unable to recognize him.
Even worse, what if I do recognize him?

John frowned. “The ball isn’t to offer the killer an opportunity to murder you. The rumor will make him frantic to eliminate you, certainly. I’m hoping he’ll expose himself. Make a careless mistake of some kind in his panic. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I simply mean it will stir the pot, so to speak.”

Royce tried to reassure her. “The ball presents him with the opportunity to ascertain if you do recognize him in connection with the grave as we claim or not. It’s imperative that we apprehend him.”

Bethany blinked several times and gazed at her hands before she drew a deep breath of resignation. “You’ll need someone to draw him here, but how? We can’t simply announce ‘Bethany has seen you. Please step forward to be identified’.”

“Rumors grow wild with only a little watering,” John said with a grin. “A few suggestions in the right ears should answer. Curiosity and desperation shall do the rest.”

“I’ll be the bait then.” Bethany forced a fake smile to her lips, and moisture gathered in her eyes.

Royce kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll have my housekeeper spread the word. A hint dropped here and there. Gossip passed from one wom . . . I mean, person to the next, and it’ll grow. Bound to,” Royce concluded.

She’d never dreamed her first ball worth mentioning would turn into such a nightmare. Instead of finding pleasure in a new gown and in her new position, she needed to be concerned with catching a killer. She shuddered. “I hope this will answer.”

“Perhaps, we should abandon the idea. It’s certainly dangerous.” Royce began to pace restlessly about the room.

“It’s all we have. This whole thing is repugnant to me, but it must be done.” Her voice dropped to little more than a whisper. “I shall feel safe with you by my side.”

“Bethany, are you certain?” Royce wrapped his arm around her shoulders again. “Don’t refine too much on the danger. I’ll protect you.” He smiled softly at her. “I want you to trust me, to know that I will defend you with my very last breath if need be. Hopkins has orders to watch over you when I’m not by until this threat is completely over.”

She cast a doubtful expression in her husband’s direction.

“We’ve talked it to death already.” Royce grinned in apology. “Not a great choice of words.”

Bethany gave a short, brittle laugh. “It must be done.”

“The invitations have been sent. Charles saw to the arrangements.” Royce gave her a squeeze of encouragement. “By the time the rumors finish the rounds, Prinny himself shall be expected.” With a twinkle of mischief in his eyes, Royce added, “You ladies concentrate on the ball and help spread the rumors. I’ll see to the rest.”

Affronted, Bethany sniffed and glared at him. “Spread rumors, indeed. I’m good enough to bait a trap, but being included in the planning is not for a mere female.”

“Now, Bethany. Not true. I merely wish to spare you the boring details. The ball is set for Saturday next, is it not?” Royce questioned.

Bethany rose and nodded. “Come along, Sara. Let’s go recruit our strength for a while. After this trying day, we could all use a bit of quiet. The men need a little private time to talk behind our backs.”