Andrea Kane (37 page)

Kassie’s heart swelled with tenderness. “Very well, Charles. I accept your condition.”

“Fine.” He squinted up at the rising sun. “I’ll leave for your father’s cottage at once.”

Impulsively Kassie flung her arms around Charles’s neck. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You are a wonderful friend.”

Charles’s features tightened. Slowly his arms came about Kassie, and he hugged her to him, his eyes bright with emotion. Then just as quickly he set her on her feet. Wordlessly he took the note from Kassie’s outstretched palm, then gave her a strained smile. “I’d best be going,” he said, his course determined. “I have a mission I must accomplish.”

The moment he was alone in the carriage Charles unfolded the slip of paper and scanned its contents. Then he stared off into space, his stomach knotted with worry. It was just as he had feared. Kassandra was aware that there had been another man in Elena’s life. And being so much like her mother, Kassie would not rest until she learned all she could. Of that Charles was certain.

Originally it had been a question of honor.

Now it was a threat of danger. He had to deal with Robert Grey.

“Braden? May I see you for a few moments?”

Braden came to an abrupt halt just outside the library doors and turned impatiently to Dr. Howell. “Is it important, Alfred? There is someone that I must see this morning.”

Alfred blinked. “I would say so. It concerns Kassandra. There are some things we need to discuss … alone. Pressing things.”

Braden felt another pang of guilt. Here he was, so caught up in his turbulent thoughts about Charles that he had totally forgotten to tell Alfred of yesterday’s revelations. He glanced at his timepiece. It was not yet seven; Charles would most likely be at the stables for some time yet. He nodded. “Of course, Alfred. I also have things to tell you.”

Once they were alone behind the closed library doors Dr. Howell turned to Braden, wasting no time before he began. “I listened carefully to your retelling of the events that accompanied Robert Grey’s visit to Sherburgh two days past. I do not believe that everything has yet come to light.”

Braden clasped his hands behind his back, scowling down at the rug. “You’re quite right, Alfred. In fact, I think it is important that you hear about the conversation Kassie and I had on the beach yesterday … before the unsettling incident that interrupted us.” In full detail he proceeded to recount everything Kassie had remembered, the pieces that had fallen into place. “However,” he concluded with a sigh, “I did not have the heart, after all she had been through, to tell her the rest—that I am convinced she witnessed her mother’s death … a death that was not the accident Kassie believes it to be, but suicide.”

“I don’t believe it was suicide.”

Braden looked startled. “Despite everything I’ve just told you? Despite Kassie’s continuing nightmares? Despite the distance from the base of the cliffs to where Elena’s body was discovered, you can still believe it was an accident?”

“No,” Alfred corrected. “I believe it was murder.”

Absolute silence permeated the room.

“Murder,” Braden repeated slowly, his whole body beginning to shake.

“Yes, Braden, cold-blooded murder. Consider what caused Kassandra’s reaction the day her father broke into her room—what actually happened to make her cry out her mother’s name.”

“She saw her father fall from the balcony outside her window,” Braden managed, his insides cold.

“He didn’t fall. He was pushed. In this case unintentionally, but that is irrelevant. Kassandra saw not only the fall itself, but the violence that preceded it.
That
is what triggered her recall.” He paused, studying Braden’s face, his unnatural calm. “Braden? Are you all right?”

“And the nightmares,” Braden said aloud, not even hearing Alfred’s question. “The beast that Kassie keeps seeing …”

“… is the person who threw Elena Grey to her death,” Alfred finished for him.

Braden’s heart twisted in anguish. “And Kassie witnessed all this?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

“Oh, my God.” Braden leaned back against his desk, bowing his head as he struggled for control. “So that’s what my poor wife has been living with for all these years.”

“Living with, but trying desperately to forget.” Alfred paused. “And Kassandra is not the only one who is desperate for her memories to stay buried.”

Braden’s head came up, his eyes dark with realization. “The murderer.”

Alfred nodded. “It would explain many things. Why Robert Grey drinks himself into oblivion, why he is tortured with remorse and guilt, and why he refuses to relinquish all ties with his daughter. And now that you’ve told me that Elena Grey was involved with another man—well, that certainly would provide an unstable blackguard like Grey with motivation, would it not?”

Braden felt nausea well up inside him. “Yes. It would.”

“Of course, we have no actual proof,” Alfred said, frowning.

“I’ll get some.” Braden was already halfway out the door.

“Where are you going?” Alfred called after him.

“To see Grey. To find out once and for all what happened the night Kassie’s mother died.”

There was no time to wait for a carriage to be brought around. Besides, Braden decided as he fought to keep his escalating fear under control, he could travel faster on horseback. He ordered Star saddled and brought around front. Mere minutes later Braden took off at a gallop. Sensing his master’s urgency, Star called upon all his skill and speed, flying through the woods leading to the secluded cottage that housed the answers Braden was determined to find.

Panting, Braden dismounted several hundred feet from the front door. Obviously Grey had company. A carriage stood before the house. Well, Braden would wait. He had no intention of alerting Grey to his arrival and taking the risk that the bastard would flee with his friends.

Silently, cautiously, Braden approached the neglected house, pausing in the thick growth of grass that hid him from view. He tensed suddenly, stunned to see the Sheffield family crest gleaming upon the carriage door. He had no time to investigate. Just then hurried footsteps sounded from within the house. Seconds later the door was flung open and a wild-eyed Charles Graves emerged. He looked frantically left and right and, never seeing Braden, hastened into the waiting carriage, which immediately sped away from the cottage.

Braden felt a deep sense of foreboding. With a heavy heart he climbed the steps and entered the cottage.

The house was deserted. Even Grey’s manservant had apparently taken his leave.

After a moment Braden called out Robert’s name. His own voice echoed eerily down the corridor. Then there was silence. Making his way down the hall, Braden glanced into room after room, only to find each one empty.

Until he reached the library.

There, on the dirty, stained carpet, amid a small pool of blood, lay Robert Grey.

H
OW WAS HE GOING
to tell Kassie?

That thought overrode all others in Braden’s mind as he made his way back to Sherburgh. He was still in shock, sickened by the discovery of Grey’s body, gripped by the horror of what Charles’s presence there implied.

The assimilation of all the facts and where they led—that would come later. For now, Braden had to face telling his beautiful, vulnerable wife that her father—the only living link to her past and her only possible means for acquiring the information she so desperately sought—was dead.

He turned Star over to Dobson wordlessly and made his way toward the house.

“Good morning, Your Grace,” Perkins greeted him.

Braden nodded. “I need a message to be delivered to the authorities at once, Perkins.” He penned a hasty note and gave it to his butler. “Please see to it.”

“Of course, Your Grace.” If he was taken aback by Braden’s curt tone or odd request, he gave no sign of it.

“Where is my wife, Perkins?”

“I believe she is out walking in the gardens.” Perkins pointed in the direction Kassie had gone.

Braden hurried back out, striding through the exquisite gardens that lined the northern portion of his property. He wondered why he hadn’t seen Kassie upon his arrival. She should have been visible from the front of the house.

Hearing a loud bark and a soft peal of laughter, Braden stopped in his tracks and glanced up. A burst of warmth soothed the chill that encased his heart. No wonder he hadn’t seen her. She was flat upon the ground amid the kaleidoscope of flowers, rolling about with Percy and giggling at his antics.

An unheard-of mode of behavior for a duchess.

A typical display of exuberance by his Kassie.

A lump in his throat, Braden walked the remaining distance to her side. “Hello,
ma petite
.”

Kassie sat up at once, her eyes wide with surprise. “Oh, Braden—I didn’t hear you.”

Unwilling to end their frolicking, Percy began to bark loudly in protest.

“It’s no wonder you didn’t hear me,” Braden teased gently, leaning over to brush dark strands of hair from her forehead. “Some of us”—he scratched Percy’s ears—“have voices that would drown out a thousand booming cannons.”

Percy barked his agreement.

Kassie was quiet, studying Braden’s face. “Did you wish to see me?” she asked quizzically. After his upsetting behavior last night, she was unsure of what to expect. And yet, with her innate understanding of Braden, Kassie knew that he needed to speak with her. She waited.

Braden nodded, reaching for her hands and pulling her gently to her feet. “Kassie,” he began, unknowingly caressing her fingers with his, “I know that there are things you don’t understand … things we need to talk about. But unfortunately, they are going to have to wait.” He looked into her eyes, willing her to be strong.

“Something has happened.” She could feel it. She simply knew, needing only for Braden to corroborate the statement.

“Yes. Something has happened.”

“What is it?” she asked, fear leaping into her eyes.

Braden drew a slow, unsteady breath. “It’s your father, sweetheart.”

“My father?” Her first thought was that Braden had discovered what Charles had done for her. But if that were the case, why wasn’t her husband furious with her?

“Kassie, there is no easy way to tell you this.” Braden’s words dispelled her original thought entirely.

Inwardly she braced herself for what was to come. “Just tell me, Braden. What about my father?”

“He’s dead, Kassie.”

For a moment she stared at him as if he had lost his mind. Then her lips began to tremble. “Dead?”

Braden drew her to him, holding her in his arms as he told her only what she needed to know. “Apparently he’d been drinking. He fell and struck his head against the wooden desk in the library. The impact killed him.”

Braden felt Kassie’s hands knot into fists against his chest, clutching at the material of his shirt. “He’s dead. … You’re sure?” she got out in a broken whisper.

“Yes, love, I’m sure.” He paused. “I saw him myself.”

Kassie drew back and stared at him through wet, shocked eyes. “You were at the cottage?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

This was exactly what Braden had feared, what he had wanted to avoid. “We can discuss that another time, Kassie,” he hedged, breaking eye contact with her.

“No.” She stood up, brushing the tears from her eyes. She was beyond shock by now. The past days had brought so many shattering revelations, so many traumatic remembrances. And now this …

Her feelings about her father’s death were mixed and too complex to analyze right now. But her instincts told her that Braden was keeping something from her. And she was determined to know what it was. “Not another time, Braden,” she countered. “We can discuss it right now. Why were you at my father’s cottage? Does it have anything to do with what we talked about on the beach yesterday?”

“Yes,” he conceded, “but I don’t think this is the time—”

“Let
me
be the judge of that.”

She was giving him no choice. But maybe there would be no easy time to tell her. “Very well.” He placed his hands on her narrow shoulders. “Dr. Howell doesn’t believe that your mother’s death was the result of an accidental fall.” He carefully avoided any mention of suicide. “Alfred believes that she was pushed from those cliffs. And I agree.
That
is why I went to see your father.”

Kassie blinked. “You think my father is the one—”

“It would all make sense then, wouldn’t it?”

Kassie crumbled before Braden’s eyes. Unbidden, a deluge of suppressed tears splashed down her cheeks. “But he loved her so,” she sobbed, gripping Braden’s forearms tightly. “Do you really believe he is”—she paused—“
was
,” she forced herself to say, “capable of murder?”

Braden sighed, stroking Kassie’s collarbone with his thumb. “Yes, sweetheart, I do.” He looked into her horrified face and added, “I don’t believe he
planned
to hurt her, but … if he found her with someone else … yes, I believe he was unstable enough to kill.”

Kassie went white, then sank to her knees on the soft grass. “Braden, I think I’m going to be sick,” she gasped.

He knelt beside her and held her head while she heaved helplessly between wrenching sobs. When at last her stomach was quiet and her tears spent, Braden rocked her tenderly in his arms, while Percy licked her damp cheeks lovingly.

At long last Braden stood, lifted Kassie to him, and headed back to the house. She lay silent and docile, her face pressed to his shoulder, her eyes closed.

Perkins looked positively green when they entered the hallway. His anxious gaze darted to Kassie’s limp form, then back to Braden. “The constable is here to speak with you, Your Grace,” he got out, his voice taut with worry.

Braden nodded. Quite possibly Perkins already knew. It didn’t matter. It would not remain a secret for much longer. “Tell him I’ll be with him shortly,” he replied, heading for the stairs. “And send Dr. Howell up to the duchess’s bedchamber immediately.”

“Of course, Your Grace.”

This time it seemed an eternity before Alfred’s laudanum took effect. Braden stayed with Kassie until she slept, holding her while she alternately wept and clung to him, her body trembling with reaction. He ached for her pain, knowing all the while that there was nothing he could do to ease it—nothing save be there for her as she coped with the truth.