Secrets and Sensibilities: A Regency Romance Mystery (The Lady Emily Capers Book 1) (14 page)

“Priscilla can lend you one,” Lady Brentfield replied with a
wave of her hand. “Give her that brown velvet thing your mother picked out,
Priscilla. She has the most abysmal taste.”

“It will look lovely on you,” Priscilla assured Hannah,
before hurrying from the room. Ariadne and Daphne scampered after her. Lady
Emily paused to eye her. David waited for Hannah to make her refusal.

“You needn’t be afraid, Miss Alexander,” she told Hannah.
“Riding can be rather pleasant. And you really should learn. My father would
never let himself be painted by someone who was not versed in all the proper
arts. I expect a number of gentlemen feel the same way. If you want to capture
their attentions, you will have to prove you can live in their world. You don’t
want to be consigned to painting only women. They can be so petty.” With an
encouraging smile, she left.

“See you downstairs in an hour,” Lady Brentfield warned,
leaving as well.

Hannah stared at David at the opposite end of the table. One
look in those deep brown eyes and guilt overwhelmed him. He strode down the
table and took her cold hands in his.

“I’ll tell them you refuse,” he assured her.

She shook her head with a sigh. “No. The girls need
something to divert their attentions, and I shouldn’t anger Lady Brentfield any
further. Besides, if riding makes me more appealing as a painter, then perhaps
I should try. Horses are beautiful animals, to watch.” She shuddered, then
straightened resolutely. “Perhaps it won’t be so bad to actually ride one.”

“Just to make sure, I’ll come along,” David promised her.
She smiled gratefully up at him. The darkness of the morning vanished, and he bent
to kiss her fingers. She slipped out of his grip and hurried away before he
could do more.

An hour later, he stood with the ladies and Asheram in the
courtyard outside the stables, eyeing a silver mare. Her eyes were as dark and
gentle as Hannah’s, but she seemed inordinately large to David.

“Are you sure she’s a good choice?” he whispered to Asheram
as Hannah approached the horse uneasily.

“She’s docile enough to be a good training horse,” his
friend assured him, “but she has enough spring in her step to offer some
interest. I don’t think you’d want me to put Miss Alexander up on a slug.”

“I think that’s exactly what Miss Alexander would like,”
David argued, watching her stand stiffly beside the animal. He had to admit
that Priscilla had been right--Hannah looked fetching in the deep brown velvet
that hugged her curves and brought out the depths of her dark hair bound round
her head in a coronet. Her face, however, was puckered with worry, and David’s
heart went out to her.

“You must get to know the horse,” Lady Brentfield
instructed. She walked around the mare, inspecting it. She paused to pat its
flanks and adjust its saddle. “Talk to it.”

Hannah smiled wanly. “Nice horse,” she ventured.

Ariadne and Daphne giggled. Priscilla nudged them to silence.

“Haversham, put her up,” Lady Brentfield commanded, stepping
away.

Hannah looked up at the saddle, just above her head. She
stepped back. “I don’t think I can do this.”

David moved to her side to support her.

“Oh, don’t be a ninny,” Lady Brentfield snapped.

“So much for congenial teachers,” David murmured to Hannah.
Aloud he ventured, “It does look rather high. How about if I hop up and check
out the view first? Give me a hand, Ash.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Hannah said quietly beside him.
The grateful look she cast him strengthened his resolve.

“If it will make you easier, I don’t mind,” he assured her.
He turned to his friend, who had stepped up at his call. “All right, Ash.
Pretend I’m a beautiful woman like Miss Alexander and hand me up into that
contraption.”

“My imagination isn’t nearly so vivid, my lord,” Asheram
quipped, but he cupped his hands, and David set his foot to push himself up
backwards into the side saddle.

His first thought was that he wasn’t sure where his left leg
was supposed to go. His second was that the horse did seem ridiculously high.
Hannah’s worried face was at his knee. He had no time to settle himself or
think of anything further, however, as the world suddenly exploded around him.
The docile but spirited mare heaved upward, throwing him back against the
saddle. He snatched at the pommel to steady himself, but she jerked forward,
and he pitched headlong out of the saddle. The paving stones of the courtyard
loomed up, and he knew no more.

The world seemed to stop. Hannah wasn’t sure she was even
breathing. Certainly the girls beside her were still, eyes wide in shock, as
the horse dashed off toward the stables.

And David didn’t move.

Mr. Asheram reacted first, hastening to David’s side. Hannah
didn’t realize she had even moved, but somehow she found herself beside him as
he knelt on the ground.

“Is he . . .” she started, but she couldn’t make herself
finish the question, for the answer was too horrid to contemplate.

“He’s alive,” Mr. Asheram confirmed, gently rolling him onto
his back.

Something twisted inside Hannah. The left side of his face
was streaming blood, and it seemed to her that his head was dented. Terror and
sorrow mixed until her knees would not hold her.

“David, oh, David,” she murmured, sinking onto the ground
and reaching out to touch his pale cheek. “What have I done?” She pulled up the
train of her borrowed riding habit to stop the flow of blood.

“What have you done indeed?” Lady Brentfield demanded,
moving closer as well. “If it wasn’t for your selfishness, this would never
have happened.”

Hannah reeled, feeling as if she had been struck. It should
have been her on the ground, it should be her blood flowing. He had done
nothing but seek to calm her fears.

Behind her, she heard the sound of running feet as other
servants came running.

“Don’t just stand there,” Lady Brentfield snapped at them.
“Your master is injured. Take him to his chambers at once.”

“Wait,” Mr. Asheram ordered, glaring up at her. “We need to
determine the extent of his injuries before we move him, or we might do further
damage.”

He was right. Yet Hannah hated to see him on that cold, hard
ground.

Lady Brentfield returned Mr. Asheram’s look with one equally
as determined. “We cannot wait. We must carry him indoors and send for the
doctor.” She pointed to a waiting footman. “You there. See that Dr. Praxton is
brought at once. Until then, you three carry his lordship into the house.”

“You aren’t the one to give orders,” Mr. Asheram said with a
growl, rising majestically to his full height.

“You dare to defy me?” As if the very idea was ludicrous,
she laughed, voice bright and sharp.

Hannah gasped at the sound. How could she laugh now? The
girls must have been equally as shocked, for they stepped back from her. Lady
Brentfield did not seem to care.

“I am the mistress of Brentfield,” she told David’s friend.
“The servants will do as I say, if they know what’s good for them.”

Anger swept through Hannah, threatening to carry her off.
She surged to her feet, stepped between the countess and Mr. Asheram. “Stop it,
both of you! We should be thinking of David!”

Mr. Asheram took a deep breath even as Lady Brentfield
blinked as if surprised by Hannah’s vehemence.

“You’re right, Miss Alexander,” Mr. Asheram murmured,
bending over his master again. Hannah held her breath as he gently wiped away
the pooling blood with a handkerchief. Then he tapped David’s cheek, calling
his name. David did not so much as move or open his eyes. Even a dribble of
water from a cup a helpful groom offered failed to rouse him.

Hannah wanted to be sick as the tears started coursing down
her cheeks.

“Well? Can we move him now?” Lady Brentfield demanded.

Mr. Asheram did not acknowledge her. “Weimers, help me carry
him,” he ordered a young footman standing nearby.

Hannah turned as they carried his limp body past her and the
girls. Ariadne and Daphne were stunned to silence, and there were tears, of all
things, in Priscilla’s eyes, along with a look that appeared faintly
accusatory. Yet both Priscilla and Lady Emily were gazing at Priscilla’s aunt,
Lady Emily’s look decidedly narrowed.

She knew she should see to them, but all she could think
about was helping David. She stumbled in his wake, but Lady Brentfield caught
her arm, jerking her to a stop.

“I will see to his lordship,” she informed Hannah. “Your
place is with the girls. You are the chaperone. It’s time you started playing
the role.”

Hannah blinked, trying to gather her wits. Lady Brentfield
was obviously out of patience, for she pushed Hannah toward her motionless
charges. “Go on. Do your duty. I must do mine.” She hurried past them for the
house.

Hannah drew in on herself. How could she do her duty? Her
mind refused to focus on anything but David. His still body, his face so pale
beneath the blood, seemed to be engraved on her memory. Painting after painting
flashed before her, each more heartbreaking than the last--The Fall of Icarus,
The Death of Arthur, The Burial of Christ. Only the last offered any hope; it
was Good Friday after all. She knew from her grandfather’s teachings that
another good man had been terribly hurt on that day and rose again. But no
matter how she tried, she seemed incapable of believing that David would
triumph.

That such destruction could happen in a blink of an eye
terrified her. One minute he’d been smiling confidently down at her, the next
he had been stretched unmoving upon the ground. For all she knew, his life had
been taken in that moment. And Lady Brentfield had said it was her fault.

She might not have caused the animal to rear up like that,
but she had been willing to do anything to avoid having to face David regarding
his proposal--not even trying to help with the restoration after the fire,
ignoring his attempts at conversation last night, even allowing the girls to
convince her to try riding for fear she’d have to stay behind with him if she
didn’t accompany them. If she had been willing to stand her ground and refuse
to ride, he would never have mounted that horse. Her own fears and inability to
make a decision had destroyed him. She buried her face in her hands and sobbed.

She wasn’t sure how long she had cried when a voice
penetrated the fog of her misery. “Miss Alexander?” Ariadne murmured. “What
should we do?”

Hannah took a deep shuddering breath and looked up. Four
worried faces confronted her. Ariadne and Daphne had tears running down their
faces, and Lady Emily’s lower lip trembled. Priscilla was so pale that Hannah
thought she might faint. Until that moment, she had never realized how young
her charges were. Ariadne had yet to shed the last of her baby fat. Daphne’s
eyes were perpetually wide in wonder. Priscilla still dreamed of marrying a
prince. Even Lady Emily, for all her dire predictions, sometimes showed a need
for support from the others. Hannah held out her arms, and they crowded against
her.

“It was awful!” Daphne said with a sob. “I’ve fallen from a
horse any number of times but never like that! He must have been so terribly
hurt. Poor Lord Brentfield!”

“Head injuries can be very dangerous,” Ariadne agreed with a
sniff, her own head against Hannah’s shoulder. “I hope Lady Brentfield knows to
watch him closely.”

“She’ll watch him closely,” Lady Emily predicted. “If you
ask me, she is our villain.”

Hannah gasped, and Priscilla broke away, eyes wide in her
pale face.

“How dare you, Emily Southwell! I don’t care if you are the
daughter of a duke. You have no right to make such accusations. The countess
would never . . . she couldn’t . . . oh, what if she did!” She crammed her
fists against her mouth and ran for the house.

Hannah could not move to follow her, with the others so
close.

“Could Lady Brentfield be a murderess?” Ariadne murmured in
apparent fear.

Hannah’s arms closed around the girl in a fierce hug. “I
don’t know. I wouldn’t want to think such a horrible thing about anyone.”

Lady Emily looked abashed.

“What should we do?” Ariadne asked again.

What should they do indeed? Hannah wanted nothing more than
to run to David’s side. But the girls needed her, and she knew staying with
them was the right thing. Besides, if there was some sort of plot to these
accidents, she could hardly leave the girls untended with the criminal on the
loose. Hannah stiffened, and the girls stepped back.

“The first thing we do,” she declared, “is find Priscilla.
And we will ask the servants to fetch us as soon as there is news of Lord
Brentfield’s condition.” Her fears assailed her anew. He would be fine. He had
to be fine. Her heart wouldn’t survive without him. “And then,” she added, “I
think it would do us all good to pray.”

Finding Priscilla was not as difficult as Hannah had feared.
The girl was face down on her bed, thoroughly soaking the rose satin comforter
with her tears.

“Ineffectual,” Lady Emily proclaimed. “If you are truly
repentant, we should see it in your actions.”

“I don’t think this has anything to do with repentance,”
Hannah replied, seating herself beside the distraught girl. “And I don’t think
it would hurt if you apologized.”

“Neither my station nor the situation requires it,” Lady
Emily argued. When Hannah raised an eyebrow, the girl wilted. “Oh, very well.
I’m sorry, Pris. But your aunt is the most likely suspect.”

Priscilla shuddered and sat up. Hannah offered her an
encouraging smile. “I know,” she murmured. “She has the temperament for it, I
think. I’ve been wondering about her ever since you first mentioned that the
accidents might be attempts on Lord Brentfield’s life. But to truly believe she
would be capable of murder? It’s horrible!”

“Horrible and unfounded,” Hannah insisted. “Lady Brentfield
has not turned out to be the hostess we expected, but to go from disinterest to
murder is a very long road. I think we should curtail these discussions until
we have proof.”

“We do have proof,” Priscilla said quietly.

Hannah stared at her, feeling the blood drain from her face.
“What?” she whispered.

Daphne, Ariadne, and Lady Emily crowded forward eagerly.
Priscilla hung her head.

“Father told me that the countess was left out of her late
husband’s will. We don’t know why. She’d only been married to the previous Lord
Brentfield for five years, so it may be that he simply hadn’t taken the time to
revise the will.”

“It’s also possible,” Lady Emily put in darkly, “that he
recognized her true nature and refused to leave her anything.”

Priscilla sighed. “Yes, that’s possible too. Either way, she
is beholden to the current title holder for her living.”

“But surely Da . . . the current Lord Brentfield will
provide for her,” Hannah protested, finding it impossible to believe that
anyone she knew could be so wicked. “He’s let her live in the great house.
She’s entertaining guests as if the place were her own. She should be
grateful!”

Priscilla grimaced. “When have you seen my aunt grateful for
anything? She would see such gifts as crumbs and want the whole cake. She tried
to marry him, you know.”

“But she wanted him for you!” Hannah argued.

“Only after she found he wasn’t interested in her. Then she
decided to let me have a go at it. We tried to compromise him the other night.”

“Oh, Priscilla!” Daphne cried as the other girls gaped and
Hannah shook with mortification. She was supposed to be their chaperone! How
could she have let them down, and David too!

Priscilla raised her head, pouting. “We didn’t succeed. He
wasn’t in his room. The countess thought he must have been with Miss
Alexander.”

They were staring at her now. Could it have been the night
she and David had gone exploring? No, Priscilla had already started helping her
court him. Surely the girl would not have done so if she were planning on
catching him for herself. It had probably been the night he had first found the
new passage. She was grateful he had been unable to sleep.

“He wasn’t,” she assured the girls.

They nodded, apparently willing to accept her word for it.

“So,” Lady Emily put in, “when neither of you were
successful against him, Lady Brentfield turned to murder.”

“Yes, I fear so,” Priscilla sighed, lower lip trembling.

“I can’t believe it,” Hannah maintained. “Murder? Simply to
have more than she needed?”

“Most assuredly,” Lady Emily intoned.

“But if there was no mention of her in the will,” Hannah
persisted, “what would she gain?”

Lady Emily opened her mouth to respond, then snapped it shut
again. She glared at Priscilla.

“Well, don’t look at me,” Priscilla said. “I’d be happy to
find she’s innocent. But I don’t think she is. She’s done too many strange
things lately. She took us to visit the Earl of Prestwick when she loathes the
man, and everyone knows he refuses to marry so he isn’t even interesting. She
took us shopping in Wenwood, which she’s forever protesting has no place worth
shopping. And she’s the one who taught me that trick with the horse.”

“What trick?” Hannah demanded, and the girls echoed her
words.

Priscilla shrugged, picking at the bedclothes. “It’s an easy
way to rid yourself of a rival, only of course you don’t expect that they’ll
actually be injured. Most young ladies of the
ton
know how to sit on a
rearing horse. You only make them appear foolish. Only Lord Brentfield, of
course, didn’t know how to ride.”

“But what did she do?” Lady Emily urged.

“You simply place a burr under the edge of the saddle. No
one notices until the rider sits.”

“And the prickles are driven into the horse by the weight,”
Lady Emily concluded. “Of course!”

“She didn’t seem the type to become acquainted with a horse
first to me,” Daphne agreed. “Talk to the horse indeed.”

Hannah blushed, remembering.

“Oh, poor Lord Brentfield!” Ariadne moaned.

Lady Emily started. “No, not poor Lord Brentfield. Poor Miss
Alexander! That trap was meant for her!”

Hannah started. “What do you mean?”

“Lady Brentfield could not have known his lordship would be
so gallant. She put that burr under the saddle for you, Miss Alexander. She
meant for you to be thrown.”

Hannah closed her eyes. It all made an evil kind of sense.
The girls might not be able to determine a motive for the woman’s deadly acts,
but Hannah could. Suddenly she knew why old Lord Brentfield had hidden his
treasures and what Lady Brentfield had hoped to gain by David’s death. With
David out of the way, Lady Brentfield would have the run of the house. She
could find the missing treasures and sell them. She could be living in high
style on the Continent before the next heir, or the Crown, arrived to take
ownership. Hannah could not imagine how her own death might benefit the woman,
but perhaps spite was enough of a motive if one were prone to commit murder.
She opened her eyes and found the girls staring at her again.

“You are right, I fear,” she told them. “Lady Brentfield
appears to be guilty.”

“I knew it!” Lady Emily crowed.

Priscilla compressed her lips in an obvious attempt to keep
from crying. Ariadne and Daphne exchanged glances.

“What do we do now?” Daphne wanted to know.

“Now,” Hannah replied with determination born of love and
fear, “we make sure she doesn’t have the opportunity to finish her work.”

The girls were willing to help and eagerly followed Hannah
to the east wing, but getting any farther proved difficult.

“Sorry, ladies, but his lordship can’t have visitors,” the
young footman told them. He had obviously been set on duty outside the
bedchamber, but by Mr. Asheram or Lady Brentfield, Hannah was afraid to learn.

“Fetch us Mr. Haversham, then,” Lady Emily demanded in her
most ducal tones.

The footman moved to comply, but Hannah caught his arm. “Is
Lady Brentfield in the room as well?”

“Yes, miss,” he replied, clearly puzzled by their intensity.
“She and Mr. Asheram are awaiting the doctor.”

She exchanged looks with the girls and knew they realized
the danger of removing Asheram and leaving Lady Brentfield alone with David.

“Then we will wait as well,” Hannah told the footman. “Is
there a sitting room nearby?”

He pointed to a room down the corridor, and Hannah nodded.
“Please let us know the moment the doctor arrives.” She led the girls away from
the door.

“Why don’t we go tell Mr. Asheram?” Daphne asked as they
found seats in the wide room. “We don’t have to call him out; we could go in to
him.”

Hannah shook her head. “Who knows what she’ll do if we force
her hand? I want her well away from David before we expose her.”

Too late she realized she had used his given name. The girls
were more observant, for they giggled. The humor relaxed the tension in the
room, and she was pleased to find that they passed the next while in almost
normal conversation.

The room was warm and pleasant, done in tones of russet and
gold. She noticed that several of the paintings on the walls seemed to be the
wrong color, and one of the walls was brighter than the others, as if some tapestry
had been removed recently. Her lips tightened as she realized she was again
seeing evidence of the attempted art thefts. Lady Brentfield was intent on
robbing David, and future generations, of treasures meant to be shared. If only
the woman could be stopped before she hurt anyone or anything else!