The Second Shot (The Dueling Pistols) (22 page)

"This way, then. I'm sure I can rummage up a bottle or two from the cellar." Randleton started up the street.

William fell in step beside him, leaving Major Sheridan to screw the lid back on the concealed flask and carry the cane or use it.

When the major was clearly choosing the latter course of action, he and Randleton slowed their steps so that the major might catch them.

"So tell me how it is the shooter managed to miss you," Sheridan asked when he rejoined their side.

If it had been anyone else, William probably would have tried to slant the story, but even in the dark, Sheridan's pale gaze had a way of cutting through William and making him fear for his soul. "I had a nightmare and must have heard a noise."

"And?"

"I fell out of bed. Then there was the shot. It all happened rather fast."

Fortunately, after exchanging a wry look Randleton and Sheridan didn't comment on his cowardice. No doubt the last time either of them had fallen out of bed because of a bad dream, he had been in leading strings. William studied Sheridan and his heavy leaning on the walking stick and his stiff-legged gait. On second thought, he doubted Sheridan had ever fallen out of bed. A nightmare wouldn't dare intrude on his rest.

"Did you see anything?" Sheridan's face screwed up in a grimace.

"Just the flash from the gun and the hole in my pillow, right where I was lying."

"Got to figure this out"—Randleton reached inside his coat, pulled out a silver flask and handed it to the major—"Before someone else ends up dead. Here, my good Irish whiskey."

William watched with envy as Sheridan drained the flask. After being shot at, he could have used some Irish comfort. "Rate we're going, the last one left standing will be the murderer."

Randleton took back the empty flask and upended it over the sidewalk. "Luck you have, that would be you."

William sputtered.

Sheridan playfully pushed his shoulder. "Odd thing is, Miss Jocelyn just looked off to the distance when I asked her if she thought there might be something unnatural about all her brothers dying in such a short space of time. Seemed as if the idea was new to her."

"Well, if her mother is the culprit, the idea wouldn't be new to her." When nothing more than a drop came out of the flask, Randleton frowned and screwed the lid back on.

"If her mother did them in, why is she allowed to go in and out at Bedlam?" William asked. Surely the woman would not be allowed to leave if there was the suspicion of murder.

"I gather a former inmate comes and claims to be her sister and they release Mrs. Lungren into her care," said Randleton. "I have had my batman following her."

Sheridan stopped walking. "Would he have followed her tonight?"

"Possibly, but I think she must be wise to him now." Randleton looked thoughtful. "I don't think it was the mother, though. I mean, a death from foxglove or laudanum would be quick and painless, wouldn't it?"

"I should think so. An overdose of foxglove slows the heart until it stops, and too much laudanum simply puts one to sleep forever."

"Miss Carolyn said all the men died slowly, in agony. As soon as one died, the next would get the symptoms." Randleton rubbed his back up against a lamppost, making William wince for the abuse to his jacket.

"Except for the captain." Sheridan resumed walking.

Randleton put his hands behind his back. "No, according to Miss Carolyn, for a brief time when he first came home, he showed signs of the family disease. Then he recovered."

"That would be when he stopped eating at home, then," said Sheridan. "Christ, what a dreadful coil."

"Lungren suspected poison in his brothers' deaths then." William scanned the empty street ahead. "That's why he tolerated the unspeakable food at the Boar's Head."

"Our killer has found a gun—that is much more to the point." Sheridan leaned both his hands on William's cane, stopping in front of the Randleton town home.

Randleton fished a key out of his pocket. "Harder to explain away."

William glanced over his shoulder. "No one but us thinks that there is anything odd about Lungren's death, and what connection would people make to me?"

"That's another thing," Sheridan said. "There's no record of all these supposed sales of parts of the estate to Lord Carlton. I went to the assayer's office, and nothing has been recorded. In fact, just before Captain Lungren arrived home, the sisters paid taxes on the entire estate."

"He could be holding all the bills of sale until he has the entire thing, and then recording the sale." Randleton inserted the key in the knockerless door's lock.

"Why, though?" William asked.

Sheridan stepped over the threshold. "Mayhap it really is a worthless estate."

"I daresay the sales wouldn't be legal if they took place during the true owners' illnesses. Not if the Lungren men weren't in their right minds. Weren't all these sales facilitated by the eldest Miss Lungren?" William followed the major into the quiet house.

"Without dates, I couldn't check the timing of the sales." Sheridan handed the cane back with a warning glare.

"There's something off about Miss Lungren's relationship to Lord Carlton," William wondered what she had meant by saying he wanted a slave to control. "She believes there is something less than honorable in his proposal to her."

"How is that?" Randleton shut and locked the front door.

William rocked back on his heels. "Just her reaction when I mentioned Lord Carlton's proposals."

"Miss Jocelyn is of the opinion that women shouldn't
have
to marry." Sheridan's disgust radiated in his voice.

"Seems to be a prevalent attitude nowadays, what with that Wollstonecraft woman spouting that sentiment," William said.

"All well and good if they believed in the free-love part of her philosophies too." Sheridan stumbled and crashed heavily against the wall. "Bloody hell."

"What the devil did you do to your leg?" asked Randleton, catching a vase that wobbled on a table near where Sheridan leaned against the wall.

"I told you, I stood too long."

William had started forward to assist the major but drew up short.

Randleton didn't seem the least bit threatened by Sheridan's menacing tone. He simply tossed Sheridan's free arm over his shoulder and pulled the man against him. "You must tell her you cannot do it standing."

"I didn't...we aren't...lovers. She doesn't want..." He put a hand to his head.

Since Sheridan's roar had reduced to a low moan, William stepped to his other side and pulled the major's other arm over his shoulders.

"You were once. You can't tell me that boy isn't yours," Randleton said. "Has your eyes."

What a trait to inherit: those pale, cold eyes. And with a sinking feeling, William realized Sheridan wasn't denying the child's parentage.

"Doesn' want me around." Sheridan was starting to slur his words. "Other than to pretend an 'gagement."

"That doesn't make sense," said William.

Sheridan turned and pierced him with his cold gaze, although his focus seemed a little unsteady. "Since when has what a woman wanted made sense?"

The two of them steered Sheridan toward the drawing room. Randleton braced Major Sheridan against him and reached out to open the door.

"She doesn't want me like she used...to."

Sheridan acted like he was three sheets to the wind. Had he been drinking before they arrived? Surely a man his size couldn't be taken down by a mere flask of whiskey.

"'Course, only half the man I was." Sheridan swung his head toward Randleton. "Christ, tha' was strong drink."

"You didn't have to drink it all. Besides, it had laudanum in it."

William jerked. Then Sheridan's sudden dead weight required every ounce of his strength to hold. Why would Randleton have given the major whiskey tainted with laudanum? Why would he even
have
whiskey laced with laudanum?

* * *

Meg woke early to the sounds of furniture being moved in the room next to hers. Were the maids cleaning? She put her pillow over her head. Did they have to make so much noise?

It was no good. She was awake now, and the fear of what new story on Diana's body might show up in the paper urged her out bed. Meg resisted the temptation to peek out and find out what was going on. She was
en deshabille,
and
ladies
didn't go about in their nightwear. Instead, she pulled the bellpull and waited for her new maid.

"What is all the noise?" Meg asked Molly.

"The mistress is moving in the bedroom next to yours. I gather we are expecting houseguests."

"Really? Do you know who?"

"Two gentlemen." Molly sniffed.

Meg supposed she was committing another error by talking to her maid as she helped her into her round gown. Or maybe the sniff was disapproval of Felicity's actions. Now, that was a novel thought.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I'm sure I wouldn't know, miss," said Molly. "Even if I did think so, it wouldn't be my place to say."

Interesting. Meg moved toward the door.

"Miss, your gloves."

Meg would never remember she was to wear gloves everywhere. "Thank you, Molly."

She skipped down the three flights of stairs. Two gentlemen moving in? Surely it had to be something to do with last night's late night visit by Major Sheridan, Mr. Bedford, and Lieutenant Randleton. Which two?

She reached for the breakfast room door, only to have a footman open the door before she reached the handle. Meg winced. Wait for the servants to do their job, she reminded herself. She entered the room, sedately preoccupied with which of the two men would be moving in and trying to decide if she was best served by pursuing only one of them.

Diana's likeness stared back at her from the paper. Meg gasped and took a step back.

Sir Edmund Greyston lowered the paper and stared at her. Felicity gave her a glance. Lady Greyston gave her a pursed-lipped shake of her head. Probably she had noticed Sir Edmund's pointed attention to Meg's properly—this time—covered chest.

Did Felicity recognize the picture of her niece? It was an uncanny resemblance.

"Now that we're all here, I have some news," Felicity said. "Sit down, Diana."

If Felicity knew, would she make her sit? Yes, because Meg wouldn't have a chance of running away if she was sitting. Still, what choice did she have but to pretend nothing was amiss? She moved toward a chair, her legs shaking.

Felicity pushed back her plate and then dismissed the footman, who removed it. She folded her hands on the table. Sir Edmund Greyston closed the paper and set it beside his plate, where Diana's likeness stared back at Meg, reminding her the world was closing in.

"I've invited Major Sheridan and his friend Mr. Bedford to move in with us here."

"You have done
what?"
Lady Greyston stood, her forgotten napkin falling to the floor. "What are you thinking?"

"I admit it is unconventional, and I never should have considered allowing them to stay here, were it not for the fact that you two are still here." Felicity smiled.

Lady Greyston gaped like a fish at a loss for water.

Meg let out a ragged breath. They hadn't figured out she wasn't Diana?

"Why would you do such a thing?" asked Sir Edmund. "Just because you and Major Sheridan have an understanding doesn't mean he should be living here."

"We shan't want it known, and it has nothing to do with our arrangement." Felicity pushed back from the table. "I'm not at liberty to say why they are moving in, as of yet. But suffice it to say that when the truth is made known, I'm sure you will understand my decision."

Lady Greyston managed to get her mouth closed. "Have you thought of the repercussions to your niece? How will she secure a respectable offer if it is known she is residing with two unrelated bachelors in the house?"

"That is why it wouldn't be a good idea to bandy the information about."

Charles bounded into the room. He bounced over to his mother and hugged her. "Phys is here. Major Sheridan says he will live here."

"Only in the stable. Not in the house."

Charles leaned back from his mother with a startled expression. "You're putting Major Sheridan in the stables?"

Felicity rubbed her forehead. "No, Phys will stay in the stables."

"Oh, are they moving in because someone tried to kill Mr. Bedford?"

Felicity winced.

"My God, Bedford is the name of the chap your major fought a duel with," Sir Edmund contributed. "Slapped him with his glove in Watier's. Felicity, this just will not do. You cannot have two men who are at each other's throats in the house."

"You can always leave if you don't like the way I run my household." Felicity moved toward the door with Charles's hand gripped in hers.

Lady Greyston dropped the pretense of being an ally of Diana's the minute Felicity left the room. Instead, she turned to Meg and, with bitterness in her voice, said, "What do you have to do with this?"

Meg almost would rather claim the connection to the missing girl's picture in
The Morning Post.
"Nothing."

Lady Greyston gave her a skeptical look.

Meg opened her eyes wide and pasted as much innocence as she could pretend on her face and said, "Will this damage my chances for a respectable marriage?"

Lady Greyston flattened her lips. "Not if I can help it. I see you are dressed quite demurely today. Very good choice, Miss Fielding. You look quite the lady."

To which Sir Edmund harrumphed and raised the newspaper again.

Of course, having Lady Greyston as an ally might be worse than having her as an enemy.

Chapter Fourteen

In the passageway outside the breakfast room, alone with her son, Felicity bent down to be on the same level with him. "Charles, were did you get the notion that someone tried to kill Mr. Bedford?"

"He said so, last night."

"How many times have I told you not to eavesdrop?"

"He was in the hall, Mama. Before you and Major Sheridan came out of the study. I wasn't trying to hear then, but I did. Major Sheridan had to tie his cravat, but doesn't he have a man to do that?"