Indiscretion (23 page)

"Where did you get soil from a sorcerer's grave?" Nellwyn asked curiously.

"From Black Mag's wagon," Patrick said. "I noticed a jar labeled F.A. a few days after the fair when I returned to question the gypsy about the accuracy of her predictions. Anne was upset and I
wanted to reassure her that su
ch predictions are nonsense. Black Mag was not there, her daughter was, but the jar set me to thinking."

"That wasn't soil from a sorcerer's grave," Flora said. "That was teeth-whitening powder. I bought the soil from Mag's daughter after you started
spreading the word that Edgar was coming back from the grave. At least, I assume it was you."

"Did the tooth-powder work?" Nellwyn asked.

"I don't know," Flora admitted. "I never got a chance to try it."

"Did you hire Janet to write a threatening message on the mirror with a sausage?" Anne asked.

"A sausage?" Flora blinked in astonishment. "I never told her to use a sausage."

Patrick frowned. "But you did engage her to threaten Anne?"

Flora bit her lip. "To my shame, yes, I did. But I only wanted her to go away. I was afraid she would find out the truth."

Anne glanced at Patrick, wondering if he found it as difficult as she did to condemn Flora.

"It was an ingenious plan, Patrick," Nellwyn said. "I was proud to play a part in it."

"Ingenious?" Anne said. "He might have been burned t
o death, or he might have shot Fl
ora in self-defense."

"I'm ready to accept my punishment," Flora said. "I saw the warrant for my arrest on your desk this morning, Papa."

"That wasn't a warrant. Flora," he said. "It was an invitation to Anne's party. It came over a week ago."

"I know what will happen," Flora went on, clearly imagining the worst. "A sheriff's officer will seize me during church tomorrow. I shall be arrested and taken to the Justice Clerk. The jury, finding me young, beautiful and in control of my senses, will show no mercy."

Nobody said anything for a long time. Then Sir Wallace walked over to the boathouse and knelt, sifting through the debris. "Good Lord, look at this," he said. "I've found a flintlock pistol. An ebony inlaid piece. If—"

"It belongs to me," Patrick said, holding out his hand. "I dropped it when the fire broke out. Allow me to take it from you, sir."

Sir Wallace pursed his lips, standing to face Patrick. "I do not think that is wise."

"I don't give a damn what you think," Patrick said.

"Sutherland
," Anne said.

"Sir," Patrick said, softening his manner. "Give me the gun. The fact is that I am the most qualified person in this group to handle a firearm."

"A pistol is hardly a pastry," Sir Wallace retorted.

"Quite so," Patrick said. "I was, however, an officer in the 71st Light Highland Infantry before I became a butler."

Sir Wallace looked stunned. "Bloody hell, Anne, is this man the biggest liar in Christendom?"

"No, Wallace." She vented a sigh. "I regret to say he is telling the truth."

37

A
light drizzle began to fall over the loch. Most of the guests were too intent on fishing to think anything of Anne's absence. Sir Wallace located a plaid and a bottle of whiskey to settle Flora against a tree. She was exhausted from her ordeal, and it had been a job to quiet her down.

"Well," Nellwyn said, "whatever are we going to tell the Queen?"

Patrick placed his hand on Anne's shoulder. For once she did not resist. "We shall explain that Lord Kingaim died of natural causes, which is the truth. There is nothing more to add."

Anne looked back at Sir Wallace, gently stroking his daughter's face. "We would never be able to obtain a conviction. Of course, a case could be made that she moved Edgar's body. But I cannot imagine a jury indicting her for murder because a man died during—well, you know."

"In the act, Anne," Nellwyn said, shaking her head.

"There was no wicked intent," Patrick said. "Only greed and stupidity."

"It would be hard to convict her of simple human stupidity," Nellwyn said. "Let her wait until the Great Day of Judgment."

"We shall all be accountable then," Patrick said piously.

Anne looked him in the eye. "Some of us more than others."

Sir Wallace returned to the small group, his face haggard, his manner one of profound dejection. "I suppose everyone in the parish realizes what has occurred by now."

"I doubt it," Patrick said, not pleased when Anne moved away from him. "I made particularly potent toddies for a reason. Everyone is probably too numb to have noticed anything amiss."

"Lady Tarbet noticed that embarrassing business between you and Sir Wallace on the boat," Nellwyn said, as if there hadn't been enough trouble for one night. "A rumor is circulating that Wallace asked you to be his bride."

"Aye, but I didn't accept," Patrick replied, giving the man a fleeting grin, which Sir Wallace patently ignored.

Anne shivered as a thin wind blew up on the loch, dispersing the mist. A few raindrops splattered on the ground. "It looks as if the storm is coming down from the mountains, after all."

"What about Uncle Edgar's missing money?"

Nellwyn asked Sir Wallace. "Were you blackmailing him, Wallace?"

"Indeed not. From what Flora tells me, he lavished her with expensive gifts to prove he intended to set her up in London as his mistress." Sir Wallace's shoulders slumped in defeat. "I shall, of course, make sure that every penny is repaid into his wife's account even if I have to hire myself out as a laborer."

"Well, I certainly hope you'll use more discretion than you did out there on the loch with Sutherland," Nellwyn said. "I do not want one word of this to reach Lady Kingaim. The woman shall mourn her husband in peace."

"You're shivering, Anne," Patrick said. "Let me take you home."

"What about my guests?" she asked. "And the prize for the biggest fish? It really will look peculiar if I disappear in the midst of my own party."

"I shall stay and oversee everything," Nellwyn said, pulling her old-fashioned arasaid around her thin shoulders. "It's not as if I haven't done it before. Wallace—" She turned to the other man, whose lost expression had touched everyone in the group. "Take Flora back to the house and get her into a warm bed. Things will look better in the morning."

He lifted his forlorn gaze to Anne. "Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive us, my dear?"

"Don't say anything more of it," she said. "Just take Flora away before we're forced to explain what is wrong with her."

He took her advice; Anne, Patrick, and Nellwyn walked slowly across the pebbly shore toward the pier. Anne managed to wave at her guests as if all was well, although she felt bone-weary and wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and fall into a deep dreamless sleep.

"Did you know what had happened all along?" she asked Patrick.

He stared across the loch and waved to Iain, who was on the hill, drying himself off with a plaid. "No, I did not. I was fortunate my hunch paid off. At one point I even suspected Flora might have bought an herbal potion from Black Mag that killed Uncle Edgar."

"Poison?" Anne asked, clearly shaken.

He glanced at her. "Actually, I was thinking more of a love potion. Even seemingly harmless herbs can damage the liver and heart, causing death. The doctor's autopsy, howeve
r, did not support this suspici
on."

Anne looked back at the charred remains of the boathouse. "What a disgraceful way for Un
cle
Edgar to expire," she murmured.

Nellwyn stomped her half-boots on the pebbles in
an apparent attempt to get warm. "Disgraceful,
nothing. I would not mind going in such a manner
myself."

"Neither would I, Auntie Nellwyn," Patrick said, grinning in agreement.

A
nne and Patrick climbed the winding staircase of Balgeldie House in silence. When they approached
the door to Anne's room, she noticed that he was limping. She smiled gently.

"Housemaid's knee acting up again?"

He grimaced. "It's killing me." He didn't try to touch her, which she thought was odd. "Well, your revenge is complete, Anne."

She wonde
red why he hadn't kissed her. Th
e house was practically empty, although in another hour or so, guests would be parading all about, slamming doors or ordering snacks and hot water for a wash.

"I never wanted revenge," she said, shaking her head. "Not really."

"Then what did you want?" he asked, his eyes sad.

"I'm not sure. Redemption, perhaps."

"For you or me?"

"For us both." She hesitated, leaning back against the door. "I suppose I wanted to go back in time and make peace with my parents."

"I can't give you that," he said quietly. "But you could forgive me—and yourself. If we can find compassion for Flora and Uncle Edgar, surely we can rise above our own mistakes. We were so very young, and—"

He broke off, distracted by what sounded like a muffled gasp
behind him. Mrs. Forbes and Graci
e stood at the top of the staircase, gawking at them over an armload of fresh linens. There was really no way to explain the situation—so neither he nor Anne tried.

"Oh, no," Anne whispered, ducking inside her room. "This is too embarrassing."

Patrick glanced back at the two female servants, gracing them with his infamous grin. And then, to their scandalized disbelief, he followed Anne right into her bedchamber, chuckling as he closed the door.

A
nne did not know where she found the nerve, some of Nellwyn's audacity must have rubbed off on her, but she went about her nightly routine as if Patrick weren't
there. She pulled off her rain-
spotted taffeta and donned a sturdy flannel nightdress. She brushed her hair one hundred times. She even brushed her teeth and wondered aloud if Black Mag's tooth-whitening powder really worked.

"If you don't agree to be my wife," Patrick said behind her, "I intend to walk out of this room and never return."

She rubbed the washcloth over her face. "This is hardly the time for an ultimatum."

"Nevertheless, that is what this is. Marry me, Anne. It is what you need. Nellwyn knows that."

"Does she indeed?" she said dryly.

He moved to face her, his gaze serious. "I've decided it would be best if I go away. I might write to you in a few months to see if you have reconsidered. I don't know what else to do."

When she did not respond, he turned away, his gigantic figure outlined in the fire's glow. Suddenly Anne wanted to touch him. She ached to feel his powerful arms wrapped around her, to feel his hands in her hair. She knew the texture of his skin, his scent, the unspeakable thrill of sex with him.

And yet she could not move. Something inside her still needed to test his love, even if it meant she might lose him forever.

"
I'm leaving
,"
he said, "and I don't hear you asking me to stay. This is your last chance."

He started toward the inner door. Anne put her cloth down on the washstand, not saying anything as the cold fear of never seeing him again began to sink into her awareness.

"Are you serious?" she said.

"This is my final plea. Never again will I serve tea to your friends."

"Now that's a blessing in disguise."

He dredged up a smile. "Farewell, Lady Whitehaven. I hope you'll manage by yourself in the morning. I have to admit it has been a pain in the arse serving you."

The coldness moved through her system, turning her legs into blocks of lead. He was bluffing. He had to be. She watched as he vanished into the closet that adjoined their rooms, expecting him to return. Or perhaps he was waiting for her to go to bed before he sneaked back into her room.

She extinguished the lamp and crawled under the bedcovers, wishing she had asked for a warming pan. Wishing that she could burrow up against Patrick's big body, that she could bring herself to believe him and pick up the pieces of their broken past.

She stayed awake until she heard all her guests settle into their beds.
She listened for sounds from th
e room next to hers. Was that a drawer being
pulled out, a wardrobe opened? Was he really packing to leave the next day? Could she live with this cold loneliness if he went away? She would never feel like this about another man again.

The wind banged against the tower, and she huddled into her bed. As a child she had always been afraid of the storm witches in the mountains, of the mischief they might wreak. Her father had threatened to take her to them whenever she misbehaved. But the scare that settled into her bones now had nothing to do with the supernatural, and she realized what she had to do, even if she lived to regret it.