The Dukes of Manly's family plot was at the very pinnacle of the hill behind the chapel in the separately gated cemetery. It was a short stroll along a well-kept path. It would have been beautifully pleasant under other circumstances.
The reverend unlocked the gate and let us in.
The Dukes of Manly were buried inauspiciously for men of their rank compared to previous times. The family plot was protected from the wind by a half-circle wall of aged brick covered with ivy and climbing plants. Each duke's grave was marked with a headstone picked according to their tastes and fortune. Several of them were elegant crosses. Others traditional headstones in varying sizes and ornamentation.
Will's grave caught my eye immediately. It was the most recent grave, and even still was ten years old. Seeing his age on his headstone, just twenty-eight, made my heart stop. If he'd lived, I wouldn't be standing here married to his brother feeling like a usurper. British history was littered with fratricide in a quest for position, power, title, and fortune. The question was whether Ren was part of that nasty fraternity of murderers.
Next to Will's grave, a new grave was marked with stakes and string. Manly's. I stared at it with a lump in my throat.
There was a groundskeeper nearby. He approached us as I stared at the plot. "We'll dig the grave the afternoon before the ceremony." His voice was rough and filled with no love for me.
"Cooper, your grace," the reverend said to me.
"I dig all the graves here. Dug that one." Cooper pointed to Will's. "We'll send the late duke off in style and make sure his grave is ready to receive him properly. All you have to do is throw the first handful of dirt and a rose, if you have it in you to."
"Michaelmas daisies," I said sharply. "I'll lay a bouquet of Michaelmas daisies on Manly's coffin. They were his favorite."
"They were," Cooper said, and spat on the ground. He studied Will's headstone. "I've been keeping his grave mowed and cleared since his death. He died too soon. It shouldn't have happened."
He turned to stare me in the eye. "Your husband, the new duke, I saw him that night. The night his brother drowned. I was the one who saw 'im sitting on the riverbank, hair wet—cool as a cucumber, that one. Looked like he'd just had one of his nighttime swims. Sitting there while his brother and fiancée drowned as if it were no big deal."
I shivered. Which had been his intent, I was sure. "Why did you assume Ren had been swimming?"
"Why?" He looked surprised. "He was always swimming at night. In the river. In the pond on the estate. He was a big swimmer. Which was why no one accepted his excuse that he was afraid to go back in after Will and the girl."
"Cooper," the reverend said.
"The truth's the truth," Cooper said. "Maybe she needs to hear it. I wouldn't be going for any night drives with him, your grace." He spat my title out with as much derision as he could.
"Fortunately, I'm an exceptional swimmer in my own right. I don't need the duke to save me." I felt my jaw tighten. I still didn't know what compelled me to rush to Ren's defense. "Because a man was great in bed" was no excuse.
"That so, duchess?" Cooper said. "You could be right. The river is slow and leisurely at that bend where their car went in. Just about anybody could swim it, even a young man who was supposedly tired."
The reverend stepped between us. "Cooper, that's enough. You're upsetting the duchess. The front chapel lawn needs mowing."
Cooper grumbled, nodded, and headed off to mow before the workday was over.
"You'll have to forgive Cooper," the reverend said. "Like many here, he has his own opinions about what happened that night." He began leading me back toward the church office.
"The bend in the river where their car went in," I said, letting my curiosity get the best of me. "Is he right? Is the water slow there? Where, exactly, did the car go in? Where is it?"
He frowned. "It's of no consequence."
"I think it is," I said. "If I'm going to be dogged by Ren's past, I'd like to see the site of the crime, so to speak. I can easily look it up online—"
Reverend Hodgson looked resigned. "You'll pass it on your way back to the castle. You've probably been past it many times already." He described the location.
I fought a shudder. He was right—I passed it all the time. But I'd never looked at it, other than to admire the beauty of the river. I preferred not to think of the tranquil scene as deadly.
I left the church in a solemn mood, confused about everything. It was evening as I drove back to the castle. Fortunately, my former pursuers were long gone. I had the road to myself. As I approached the bend in the river that Reverend Hodgson had described as the scene of the accident, I slowed. As far as a trajectory went, it was the perfect spot in the road to propel a car off into the river. All you had to do was drive straight and fail to negotiate the curve. But anyone familiar with the area would know that, right? And be extra cautious, even speeding to the hospital. At least, I would.
If I were drunk or high, though? I slowed and signaled to pull over in a wide spot in the road. I put on my blinkers and slid out of the car to take a better look around. There was a guardrail now, but had it been there ten years ago?
I frowned and leaned over it, looking at the river below. This time of year, the river was low, just as it would have been on the night of the accident. Will had died just a few weeks earlier in the year. I made a mental note to check whether there had been any unusual weather that caused the river to swell. There was a lot of riverbank to cover before hitting water. I looked back at the road behind me, putting myself in the past, in that car, mentally tracing its trajectory.
I'm speeding along, panicked on the way to the hospital. It's a dark night. Raining? Misty? Why don't I brake?
I shook my head. Zoe had been driving. She'd had plenty of time to realize her mistake and brake or correct back onto solid ground.
I scrambled over the guardrail and down the bank to the river. It was crazy, maybe, but I kicked my shoes off and waded into the water, curious how deep it was. And how fast it got deeper. After the first hit of cold that made my breath catch, I was fine. My feet went numb. The frigid water would have been a factor, but it wasn't as cold as Puget Sound, not in the early days of fall. Not cold enough to cause hypothermia unless you stayed in a long time. The water was shallow along the bank, no higher than my ankles.
The reverend was right—the water was slow-moving here. It practically ambled along. I waded in farther. I was at least twenty feet out and still not up to my knees. Not only was the water slow-moving, it was shallow far out. I looked back up at my car and frowned. There was a reason Ren chose this place for his swims. It was near the castle and the danger was minimal. If you were inner-tubing, someone would have to tow you just to make it fun. Otherwise you'd be dead in the water, it was so slow. Zoe would have had to fly to land the car in a spot in the river deep enough to submerge it.
I waded back to the car, wishing I had a towel to dry my feet, and entered a few notes on my phone. I drove back to the castle barefoot with the heat at my feet. Harris looked at me funny as I walked in, still barefoot.
"Duchess?"
I smiled at him. "Lovely day for wading in the river." I winked at him. "I had to cool off after dealing with funeral details and the paparazzi all day. Any new nicknames since this morning?"
"No, duchess. But a new snap of you is making the rounds. You looked very lovely at the funeral home." He followed me as I headed for the kitchen.
"Good. I gave them my good side," I said. "I hope Libby left me some leftovers. I'm starved. So hungry, I think I even want cake."
"I believe we're still inundated with food, duchess. The neighbors have been insisting on stopping by with offerings."
"Curious, are they?" I strode into the kitchen and headed for one of the fridges.
Harris intercepted me. "I'll make you a plate."
"I can do it myself."
Harris frowned at me.
I laughed. "Really, I'm not trying to p
ut you out of work."
He didn't budge.
"All right. Fine. Make me a tray if you must. I'll eat in my room." I had research to do and the big-ass file Manly had left me to read.
"Very good."
"Harris?"
"Yes, duchess?"
"How deep is the river at the bend just before you get to the estate?"
He frowned as he tried to remember. "Most of the year? Fifteen or twenty feet, I should imagine, high or medium water."
"It's very shallow ten or twenty feet out," I said casually.
If Harris suspected the reason for my questions, he didn't let on. But he was no dummy. "It drops off suddenly about forty feet out from the bank nearest the estate. It drops off faster on the far side."
I nodded. "Thank you." I hurried to my room and dragged out my laptop and the file Manly had left me. I combed through the articles, pulling facts about the weather, the road conditions, the time of the accident, the level of traffic. But what stopped me were the pictures of Will, Zoe, and Ren that accompanied so many of the articles. The same photos over and over again, as if the families had supplied them. As if they were a PR move in themselves.
The three of them together, Zoe in the middle, arms around Will and Ren's waists. Their arms around her. Smiling. Looking ready to take the world on. Looking happy and well adjusted, laughing. Privileged, rich, and noble. Another set of them each individually. Ren was just as hot at twenty or twenty-one as he was now. Just as heart-stopping. The twenty-year-old me would have been one of his groupies, just like the reverend's daughter and the other young women in town. Even then he had a roguish smile and all the confidence in the world. Charisma, that was really the only word for it. Had he hoped his charisma would wash him free of any taint of guilt? Was he a sociopathic liar? A man who let his brother die while he coolly sat on the bank as if after a good swim, like Cooper described?
There was a picture of the car as it was pulled from the river. No broken windows. Very few dents. It looked practically perfect. It was almost miraculous what good shape it was in. Later in the report, there were more details, details that had been withheld from the public. Details the authorities might have been hoping Ren would eventually remember and share. Frighteningly, the doors to the car had been locked when it was pulled from the river. Manly had made a note that not even Ren knew that was in the report and that Ren wasn't to know unless he mentioned it. Apparently, he never had.
I went cold. Locked doors? No broken windows. And yet Ren had somehow escaped?
There were no traffic cameras at this remote area of road and countryside. Nothing to catch the accident. Ren was the only person who lived through it. He claimed he had a blank and couldn't remember anything from the time they went off the road until he came to his senses and flagged a motorist for help. The shock. It was convenient, though, wasn't it? Especially if he'd been the one to somehow lock the doors. Was it possible they'd malfunctioned and auto-locked after he'd gotten out?
I was so deep in my rather terrifying thoughts that I jumped when Harris knocked on the door and brought my tray in. He left without comment. I went right back to my research, picking at my meal as I worked. My hunger morphed into a desperate hunger for knowledge and truth.
Armed with the essential details I thought I needed, and needing something to think about other than Ren locking his brother inside, I went online. Within minutes, I found an online accident simulator and a map of the river. The software took me very little time to get the hang of. Before long, I'd entered in all the pertinent accident parameters—the curve of the road, the river, the kind of car they were driving, all the details I could glean from the file. I had to guess on the speed the vehicle was traveling. I entered in the speed limit as a first try, assuming I'd have to go higher.
I held my breath as the results loaded. I was right. My heart raced. Traveling at the speed limit when it left the road, their car didn't hit far enough out in the river to be submerged. It would barely have made it to the ankle-deep water where I'd been wading.
I ran the simulation again and again, each time upping the speed. Each time falling short of the speed needed to fly far enough out to hit deep water. When I finally dialed up the speed enough to simulate the details of the accident, my blood went cold.
Assuming the simulator wasn't faulty, the only way to reach that excessive speed was intentional. There was no way to drive that narrow lane that fast and not crash beforehand.
I tested my hypothesis using the stretch of road just prior to the accident scene. I was right again—anyone driving that fast would have failed to take the previous curve in the road. And anyone as familiar with the road as Zoe was would have known the road curved along the river all the way into the village. Which meant she accelerated from the last bend of the road and intentionally headed for the river.
Picturing Ren in that car as it flew off the bank and plunged into the black water below, I felt sick to my stomach. I saw him taking in a deep breath, wondering how long he could hold it. The jolt of the impact of hitting bottom. The confusion—were they right side up or upside down? Panic as the car filled with water. His brother unable to help himself. The absolute horror of the moment…
I shuddered and pushed the remnants of my meal away, feeling almost as if the white lady was watching me here in this room, where I was supposedly safe from her. A flutter of a curtain lining as the heat came on startled me. She messed with my mind even here. Had spending too much time in that haunted room messed with Zoe's mind?
I read back through the news articles and the accident reports Manly had included. There was no mention of the speed Zoe must have been traveling. No mention of the high probability the accident had been intentional or, at the very least, highly negligent. If she'd lived, Zoe should have been charged with vehicular homicide.
There were other details missing, too. Will's death was officially ruled an accidental drowning. Any toxicology reports were missing from the autopsy. Likewise with Zoe. Her cause of death was drowning. No one had even bothered to do a drug or blood alcohol test on Ren. If there was proof he'd been impaired, it might have at least exonerated him in the eyes of the public.
Given all that, I was convinced there'd been a cover-up. Ten years ago, the authorities, even small village authorities, would have had the technology to turn up what I did.
My phone rang. I jumped. When I saw Ren was calling, I almost didn't answer. But something deep inside me needed to hear his voice to wash out the horror of my mental picture of him in that water. I also needed to get to know my new husband better. There was no reason to antagonize him by not answering. It was a good thing he was calling, right? Maybe he missed me already.
"Deadly Duchess speaking," I said, hoping humor would defuse the tension of our earlier parting.
I apparently caught him off guard with my sense of humor. He was momentarily speechless.
"Hello? Anyone there?" I said. "If this is a crank call, I'm hanging up—"
"Bliss?" He broke out laughing. "Took me a minute. I almost thought I had a wrong number. You've seen your coverage."
"Not seen," I said. "I never read my reviews. Heard about secondhand. I need to fire my PR firm. It's not enough that they keep my name in the news. I was hoping for something more original. Something catchier."
"I wouldn't fire your PR firm just yet. Deadly Duchess has nice alliteration. I saw a lovely picture of you on the steps of the funeral home. Very touching, the beautiful almost-widow deep in grief. Should I be jealous of my late uncle's memory? Will you yearn for him the rest of your life, finding me a pale, young imitation?"
"Yes, probably," I said, laughing, relieved the tension had evaporated so easily. "Either that or curse him for sticking me with you. And you mean the beautiful deserted bride, don't you? Abandoned on her honeymoon by the Deserting Duke. What bride could be more pitiful?"
"You've seen, or heard about, my coverage, too."
"I have no problem reading other people's press
. At least I have lethal beauty," I said, feeling a desperate need to see him. "Which, to some, gives you a cowardly excuse to run, I suppose. You must be the worst newly married husband in history. At least according to outside observers eager to sell a story and sell advertising and subscriptions."
"What do you think? Am I the worst husband?"
"The jury's still out. I suppose Bluebeard was worse," I said. "Though, like him, you have warned me that one room in the castle is off-limits. And you have a mysterious past."
"A dark past, you mean." He didn't sound like he was joking.
"According to reputation, at least. You could set the record straight." The direct approach was worth a shot.
"What's the fun in that? I don't give a fuck what people think of me. I told you to stay out of that room for your own good." He sounded as if he enjoyed the sparring, but the warning was still clear in his voice. "I don't want you scared out of your wits."
"I suppose Bluebeard was similarly motivated. By the way, I don't lose my wits easily."
"FYI, unlike Bluebeard, I've never been married before. I have no wives who've mysteriously disappeared to worry about or hide."
But, as he alluded to, he had secrets and mysteries, and accusations against him.
"I could always be the first," I said lightly. "There's always a first. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of this call?"
"Pleasure of this call?"
I could hear the sexy smile in his voice. Damn, why did it turn me on? Why did it please me so much? "If that's flirting, don't get any ideas about phone sex. The day after my wedding, I expect the real thing or nothing at all."
"Withholding sex already. Heartless bitch."
I laughed. Maybe Manly was right. Maybe Ren and I were appropriately matched. At least our senses of humor were similar. "Seriously, why are you calling? Life in London boring you already?"
"You. I'm worried about you. All the crap I've been seeing in the media about you. Some of it's downright vicious." There was a hint of protective fury in his voice. It was sweet of him to care, and it almost melted my heart. "You're all right?"
Duked: Duke One, Duke Society Series Page 14