Secret Brides [3] Secrets of a Scandalous Marriage (8 page)

“Go ahead,” Abernathy prompted, in a calm, steady voice.

She shook her head slightly, and one red-gold curl came loose from her bun and fell to her cheek. “And then I don’t know why, but something … something made me decide to open the door, to not turn away and assume he’d already left.”

A nod from the barrister. “Yes.”

Kate expelled a shaky breath. “I turned the handle and opened the door. I pushed it open and stepped inside.”

“What did you see?” If Abernathy was anything like James, he was holding his breath too.

“It was cold in the room. Dark. I had to blink to focus, to see anything.”

“Yes.” Abernathy nodded.

Kate’s voice shook. “There he was.” The far-off look was back in her eyes. James was certain she was reliving every awful moment of it.

“He was lying on the floor. Twisted, bloody.” She cupped her hand over her mouth.

“He was dead?” Abernathy prompted.

“Yes.” She mumbled through her hand. Her voice cracked.

“You’re sure.” Abernathy’s eyes bored into her.

The duchess remained in a trance of memory. “Yes. I walked over to him, so carefully, so slowly. ‘George,’ I called. ‘George.’ He’d been shot in the chest. I … I couldn’t believe it.” She shook her head frantically.

“You hadn’t heard a pistol fire?” Abernathy asked.

“No, no, I hadn’t. I’d been in my bedchamber which was on the other end of the floor but I never heard anything like that.”

Abernathy jotted a note. “When you entered the room, did you see the pistol?”

“Yes.” She nodded. “It was on the rug in front of him.”

“Did you touch it?”

“No.” She shook her head frantically. “No, I didn’t want to touch it.”

“But you…” Abernathy audibly gulped. “You touched him?”

A single nod. “Yes. I touched him. I fell to my knees. I cradled his head.”

Abernathy sat up straighter and met her eyes. “Forgive me, but I must ask. Did you love your husband?”

“No.” The single word seemed to echo off the wooden bookcases. Tears fell freely down her face now. She shook her head. “I didn’t love my husband. I don’t think I ever did.” Her eyes were like wet velvet, sparkling with tears. “But I never … never wished him to die and certainly not like that. And when I think about his poor mother being told … We had no love lost between us, the dowager and I, but I just can’t imagine losing a child.” Her voice cracked and her chest heaved.

Mr. Abernathy reached out and squeezed her hand. “I’m nearly through. You’re doing well. Just a few more questions. What happened next? How were you discovered?”

She shook the tears away and wiped at her eyes. James leaned forward and offered his handkerchief. She took it with a small nod of thanks.

“Lady Bettina,” Kate said. “Lady Bettina came into the room. She looked … horrified.”

“Did she say anything?’

Another nod. “‘What have you done?’ She screamed it. ‘What have you done!’”

“And after that?” Abernathy prompted.

“The entire household came rushing in, all of the servants.”

The barrister scribbled another note on the parchment. “And the magistrate came soon after?”

Kate bit her lip. “Yes. One of the servants must have summoned him. I still don’t know for certain.”

“Did the servants say anything?” Abernathy asked.

“They defended me. They said I couldn’t have done it.”

“All of them?” Abernathy prompted.

“Well, Mrs. Anderson, the housekeeper, and Edwards, the butler. My maid, Virginia. They were all in shock, of course, but they knew I couldn’t have done it.”

“Did they say that to the magistrate?” Abernathy asked.

“I think so. Oh, I don’t know. It all was such a blur to me.”

“One last question.”

“Yes?”

“Who do
you
think murdered your husband?”

The duchess shook her head slowly. “I’ve had nothing to do but think about that question for weeks now. Believe me, it’s on my mind every moment.”

“And?” Abernathy prodded, and James leaned forward too, suddenly extremely interested in her answer.

“I just don’t know. I don’t know who would have wanted him dead. Not Lady Bettina, surely, and the servants never seemed unhappy with him. He was never there to make them miserable. I honestly don’t know who shot my husband, Mr. Abernathy. All I know is that it was not me and I’d take my own life before I unjustly accused another person.”

Abernathy set down his quill. “That’s enough for today. Thank you for telling me your story.”

Kate hastily wiped at her eyes with James’s handkerchief one more time. “If you gentlemen don’t mind, I think I may just go lie down for a bit.”

“By all means,” they both said simultaneously, standing while she stood.

After Kate left the room, James lowered himself back into his seat, crossed his arms over his chest, and stared at Abernathy. “Do you think she’s telling the truth?”

Abernathy’s expression was blank. He plucked the spectacles from his nose, folded them neatly, and slipped them back inside his coat pocket. “It’s not my business to determine whether she’s telling the truth, my lord. It’s my business to defend her. And I intend to. Vigorously.”

“Yes, but what do you
think
?” James insisted, eyeing the barrister carefully. Bloody hell, he was beginning to sound like Lily. But Abernathy was a solid judge of character and he intended to hear the man’s opinion on the matter.

Abernathy gathered his papers and tucked them back into his bag. He stood and moved toward the door, before turning to face James. “I think that if she’s not telling the truth, she’s doing an awfully good job at lying.”

CHAPTER 11

It was the music that woke him. The haunting strains of Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” played by a deft hand on the pianoforte in the ballroom. James raised himself on his elbow, shook off his sleep, slipped out of bed, and pulled his dark green robe over his shoulders. Securing the belt tightly around his waist, he made his way into the ballroom on the second story.

Kate was there, with a brace of candles barely glowing in front of her pretty face. She played the instrument with her eyes closed.

James cleared his throat. “You’re very talented,” he said, and his words echoed across the cavernous space.

She immediately stopped, hitting the last note incorrectly. She snapped open her eyes. “My lord!”

“Please don’t let me stop you.” He moved closer along the cold marble floor, recognizing that she too was wearing her nightclothes, including a robe. “It’s lovely.” But he wasn’t sure if he was talking about the music or the vision of her in her robe, her luxurious hair down around her shoulders, her scrubbed-clean face simply breathtaking.

“I’m so sorry to have wakened you,” she said, ducking her head. “I couldn’t sleep. I’d hoped it wouldn’t be too loud with the doors closed.”

He moved toward the pianoforte and rested his forearms on the back of the instrument, meeting her gaze over the top of it. “I’m a notoriously light sleeper, I’m afraid.” He smiled at her. “Besides, I’m glad to have heard it. I love that piece.”

She blushed and it was enchanting. “It’s my particular favorite,” she admitted. “I haven’t played the pianoforte since I was … arrested. I used to play every day at Markingham Abbey.”

He furrowed his brow. “Your time at Markingham Abbey doesn’t sound like it was particularly happy, your grace.”

Kate’s blue eyes flashed. “Please don’t call me that.”

James frowned. “I noticed yesterday, you asked Abernathy not to call you that either. You don’t like your honorific?”

She shook her head and the red-gold curls bounced along her shoulders. “No. I never have.”

He tipped his head to the side. “Why?” he asked quietly.

“It’s an odious title. As if I’m somehow better than everyone else. Your grace. Your grace. Your grace. I’ve grown to detest it.”

James eyed her carefully. “I don’t understand.”

“I’m not a duchess,” she whispered, meeting his gaze with the deep pools of her eyes. “I’m just a girl who married a duke.”

James nodded. Somehow that made sense to him and somehow she never ceased to amaze him. Before they’d met, he’d expected her to be all superciliousness and attitude. Instead she reminded him of a lost soul.

She tossed her head slightly as if shaking off the seriousness of their conversation. “I suppose it’s completely inappropriate for us to be here together like this, wearing nothing more than our nightclothes.” She stared at his chest and then her cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.

James glanced down to realize his robe had opened a bit and a sliver of his bare chest was visible at the top of the robe. He smiled, propping his elbow on the top of the pianoforte and resting his chin in his palm. “Seems a bit late to be worried about appropriateness. I hate to say it, but nothing about our relationship is appropriate.”

She blushed again, and James was momentarily regretful of his words. He stood up straight. “I mean to say, nothing about our interactions is conventional.”

“Yes.” She smiled softly but didn’t meet his eyes. “I suppose you’re right.”

Silence fell between them before Kate spoke again. “May I ask you a question, my lord?” She fidgeted with her hands.

He grinned again. “Ah, now that is hardly fair. If I am not to call you ‘your grace,’ you cannot be so proper as to call me ‘my lord.’”

She gave him a mischievous smile that made his heart beat faster. “I didn’t realize you weren’t fond of your title.”

“Oh, I am,” he replied. “But I insist. If we’re going to be inappropriate, we may as well call each other by our first names. I’m willing if you are.”

She nodded. “Yes, absolutely. Please call me Kate.”

“And you may call me James,” he said, stepping back and executing a bow.

“Very well. May I ask you a question, James?”

He grinned at her. “I owe you an answer, I believe.”

She rested her fingers on the ivory keys of the piano but did not move them. “Why did you bring me here? To your home, I mean. You must own many properties.”

“I do,” he replied. “Several in fact. Here and in the countryside.”

She bit her lip. “Then why not place me in one of those houses?”

James rested his elbows on the back of the pianoforte again. “I couldn’t ensure your safety in my other houses.”

Her brow immediately furrowed. “You brought me here to keep me safe?”

“Does that surprise you?”

She nodded this time, her curls bouncing again, and James had to keep himself from reaching out and touching one of them. The one that rested against her soft cheek. “Yes.”

“Why?” he asked.

She shrugged slightly. “I assumed you wanted me here to keep an eye on me. To ensure I don’t run off.”

He grinned at that. “Do you intend to run off?”

She shook her head and squared her shoulders. “No. I shall face my fate.”

James watched her closely. She was telling the truth. He could sense that about her. She
would
face her fate. He’d thought many things about her since he’d met her but cowardice wasn’t in her. Whatever else her faults might be, Kate Townsende had courage. Real courage. The kind of courage that would face a death sentence. The kind of courage that would stand up to an unkind husband bringing his mistress into her home. The kind of courage that would ask for a divorce and face public censure and ruin in an effort to live an authentic life.

“When we left the Tower … how did you…?” She cleared her throat. “I saw you salute the guard.”

He stared off into the dark ballroom. Ah, so she’d noticed that, had she? A keen observer was the duchess. She reminded him a bit of … himself actually. He turned his head back to face her. “When I was very young, just out of university, I bought a commission. I served in the army for two years.

Kate gasped. “You have no siblings. Your father must have been beside himself with worry.”

He slid up his hand to cover his mouth and hide his smile. And it seemed the duchess had done a bit of research on him too.
Well played.

“It’s true. I have no siblings. And my father and I, we…” He glanced away and narrowed his eyes in the darkness, searching for the right words. “Suffice it to say we rarely agreed on anything. Including my desire to serve in the army.”

She pulled her hands away from the keys and rested them in her lap. “I’m … I’m glad you made it out safely.”

He cracked another grin. “So am I.”

She returned his smile and then, “One more question,” she said softly.

James inclined his head. “Yes?”

“Why do you run a printing press? It cannot be because you need the money.”

Ah, there was that naïveté again. A woman born into the world of the
ton
would never mention money so blithely. But Kate was also perceptive. Damned perceptive. “You’re right on that score,” he answered. “It’s not about the money.”

“Then why?” She’d cocked her head to the side and the glow of the candles against her hair made it look like spun gold. He swallowed. She smelled like strawberries. He wanted to … taste her.

James groaned and ran his fingers across his face. She’d asked a good question. Why indeed did he run the press? For the challenge? The fun of it? The hint of scandal he’d never allowed himself in his “real” life? All of those answers were true but there was something else. Something he didn’t know the duchess well enough to reveal.

“Do you relish scandal?” she asked breathlessly.

“No, actually. Order, rules, truth. Those things have always been important to me. I am a storyteller of sorts. But above all I relish the truth.”

She glanced away. “But you don’t think I’m telling it.”

James set his jaw. He couldn’t afford to feel sorry for her. Couldn’t afford to continue to wonder whether she’d actually killed her husband. Lily was right. He had a long history of trying to “fix” everything and Kate was not about to become his new project. Besides, getting close to a woman who had a death sentence on her head was pure folly. He pushed himself away from the pianoforte. “I think, whatever your story, it will sell a great many pamphlets.”