by Rebecca King
‘Well, you are lurking in the bushes, watching houses,’ Geranium snapped.
‘So are you,’ Ronan countered. ‘Or maybe this is some sort of country yokel hunting ritual you marriage-hungry females indulge in around here. I don’t give a shit what you want, I am not fair game. I won’t marry you, I have no intention of marrying you, and don’t intend to ever get caught out here with you, so I suggest you go back to where you came from and bloody stay there.’ He made shooing motions with his hands and tried to bodily propel her out of his hiding place only for her to refuse to budge. She, defiant and wilfully headstrong female that she was, planted her slipper clad feet firmly in the undergrowth, and folded her arms as she glared at him.
‘Unhand me at once!’ she rapped loudly with such unexpected superiority that Ronan immediately released her as if he had just been scalded.
Great, that’s all I need, being caught roughly handling strange women in bushes.
‘Will you just go away and mind your own business?’ Ronan snarled, ignoring the delicate scent of roses that emanated from her and seemed to tease him.
‘Tell me what you are doing out here.’ Geranium ignored the fact that he kept flapping his hands at her.
‘It’s none of your damned business.’
‘It is when it is my house you have been looking at.’ Geranium lifted her brows and waited.
Ronan glared at her. Without thinking about what he was doing he pointed one long finger at Judge Sminter’s house. ‘Are you Judge Sminter’s daughter?’
He was horrified, inwardly appalled, and mentally cursing himself for being such a complete fool that he hadn’t noticed her creeping up on him. However, her behaviour did explain why she had felt the need to be so physical in her objection to him watching her father’s property.
She probably has a lot to hide as well.
Geranium, already smirking, pursed her lips. ‘Judge Sminter isn’t married. Nor does he have children. You should know that if you are interested in him. And no, I do not live there, thankfully. But I shall have a word with the man who does and inform him that you have just confirmed that you are watching his house. He will get the magistrate to have a word with you. In the meantime, I wouldn’t suggest that you break into any of the houses here. I have seen you and can tell the magistrate exactly what you look like.’ With that threat firmly between them, Geranium threw him one last warning glare before sniffing haughtily at him and stalking away.
Ronan stared at her until she reached the gate at the end of the garden. Even across the distance of several hundred yards, their eyes met. A wealth of understanding flew between them, propelled along by mistrust. Right there and then, Ronan hated her, especially when she smiled in that arrogant, knowing way, that assured him she knew she had just made a fool of him but she hadn’t expected to do anything less given he was an inept fool.
Damn you.
But it was too late to go after her and warn her to keep her mouth shut. The nosy neighbour in the pink dress deigned to return to her garden leaving Ronan to stare in stunned disbelief at the spot where she had been standing. In just a few moments with her, he had been assaulted, and had his secrets plundered to the point that he now looked like a bumbling idiot.
‘And I don’t even know her name,’ he moaned.
Struggling to hide his disquiet, Ronan tried to turn his thoughts to what he was going to do next because he couldn’t allow her to go to Judge Sminter’s house. What he didn’t know was how in the Hell he was going to stop her.
CHAPTER THREE
Geranium was feeling rather pleased with herself when she entered the garden room, despite feeling rather bad about the way she had treated him. What pleased her the most was that she had been brave enough to challenge a total stranger and had come away from the skirmish having made him look a fool.
And I have resolved my first problem without the help of my parents.
However, her pride was soon tempered by guilt. It grew persistently until it became a heavy burden upon her shoulders. She wasn’t usually a violent person.
‘I could have just approached you and had a quiet word with you,’ she conceded. But as Geranium contemplated that she had to remind herself of who he was and what he had been doing outside. ‘You are a stranger and were behaving oddly by watching the judge’s house.’
Geranium hurried across her bed chamber to peer out of the window. ‘And you still are,’ she added in disgust.
With a heavy sigh, she contemplated whether to go back outside and challenge the man again but knew when it was best to retreat while she had the higher ground. She wasn’t a fool, unlike him, and knew when it was time to try something different.
‘I have to go and have a word with the judge then,’ she sighed. Rather than move, though, Geranium continued to watch the handsome stranger for several more minutes. Of course, she knew where to look for him. ‘Handsome or not, though, he is up to no good.’
Eventually, Geranium raced back down the stairs. She barely even glanced at Kitty, who was just leaving the sitting room having lit the fire.
‘I have been looking for you, miss. Dinner is ready,’ Kitty called only to heave a frustrated sigh and glare accusingly at the front door Geranium slammed behind her as she left the house.
Geranium forced herself to reduce her run to a brisk stride which was as quick as she could make it while still being elegant. When she reached the Judge’s front door, she took a quick look around to see if any curtains were twitching. Assured that nobody had spotted her yet, Geranium rapped sharply on the judge’s front door. When her third knock didn’t get answered, she heaved a frustrated sigh but was determined not to be thwarted. Hurrying home, Geranium then had to knock on her own front door and wait for Kitty to let her in.
‘Is everything all right, miss?’ Kitty asked warily as she eyed the empty street behind her.
‘Yes, Kitty. Well, no, but it will be soon,’ Geranium gasped as she stalked through the house without stopping.
‘Dinner is ready, miss,’ Kitty bellowed after her.
‘I shan’t be long,’ Geranium called before slamming out of the back of the house.
Geranium was painfully aware that she was going to pass the stranger but kept marching until she arrived at the back of Judge Sminter’s house. Surprisingly, the gate was unlocked, allowing her to stalk straight across the garden and knock boldly on the back door. While she waited for the door to be answered, she became painfully aware that she was being watched, but refused to look at the place where she suspected the stranger was still standing.
‘Let him watch me,’ she muttered before knocking again.
When her fourth knock still didn’t get answered, Geranium stepped back to study the house. All was still and silent – too still and silent. She wondered if the judge was at home.
‘But he must have a servant or someone to help him,’ Geranium muttered, although realised that she didn’t know who that might be.
Curious, and confident that nobody was going to see her – except the stranger of course – Geranium looked through the kitchen window but saw that the room was empty. With a sigh, she ventured along the terrace, to a wide set of French doors. Cupping her hands, she peered into the room; a study which contained several chairs, a large oak desk, and several rows of shelving. Unfortunately, it was also unoccupied.
She was about to turn away when something moved in the room, to the right side of the window. Geranium had to press her head against the glass to see what it was. It took her a few moments to realise that she was staring at a pair of legs. Frowning, she studied the bright buckles on the top of the well-worn, highly polished shoes above which was a white pair of stockings leading up to cream breaches. A dark blue waistcoat and white cravat completed an outfit Geranium had seen the judge wear many times before. What she had never seen before was him hanging by the neck.
All it took was one look at Walter Sminter’s puce face, his bulging sightless eyes, and the unnatural angle of his bro
ken neck, and Geranium screamed like she had never screamed before. She stumbled backward, away from the horrifying sight, without even realising she had moved. It took her numb mind several moments to realise that the screams she could hear were hers, and even longer to realise that she should stop making such a hideous racket.
Ronan knew who was screaming the second he heard her. She hadn’t seen him, but he had watched her enter the judge’s garden while cursing himself for not being able to stop her without tackling her to the ground and sitting on her. He had been on the hunt for a new place to hide when her screams had started.
‘Now what?’ he grumbled with masculine impatience.
Despite his reluctance, Ronan broke out into a run and went in search of her. It didn’t take long to find her, standing on the judge’s terrace, staring blankly into the house. Deep inside, Ronan suspected he already knew what she had seen.
‘What is it?’ he demanded anyway when he reached her.
Geranium whirled around to face him. She looked up at him with such fear in her eyes that Ronan didn’t think about what he was doing. He yanked her into his arms and held her firmly against him. Thankfully, she promptly stopped screaming but stood shivering in fear as she clutched at his shirt with desperate fingers.
While still holding her, Ronan stepped sideways and peered into the room, but he couldn’t see anything except furniture. ‘What’s wrong? What did you see? Are you hurt?’ It was alarming that she was shaking so violently he didn’t know how was managing to stand upright.
‘He is dead,’ she whispered eventually, leaning back to look up at him. ‘The j-judge. He is dead. In there.’
Ronan scowled at her and peered into the room again.
Geranium knew she should force herself to step away from the handsome stranger holding her so protectively, but right now he was the only person keeping her sane. She couldn’t bring herself to look at the spot where the judge was hanging, but she could feel him there.
It might be the stranger who is responsible, or one of his friends.
But while she contemplated that, Geranium immediately dismissed it. The stranger had been lurking in the bushes. She knew because she had been watching him for most of the evening. He had still been lurking in the bushes when she had arrived in Judge Sminter’s garden. He had to have been given how swiftly he had reached her. Further, he kept looking blankly into the house but hadn’t seen the judge yet so couldn’t know where he was hanging.
Besides, if he killed the man, he would have left the scene of the crime before anybody found the body, wouldn’t he?
Geranium hoped so. When she looked up at him, she saw the stranger looking into the house, clearly searching for the body.
‘He is through there,’ Geranium whispered, pointing to the spot beside the door where the judge was hanging.
Ronan looked at her pale face and the fear lingering in her eyes and cupped the back of her head to force her to look at him. He tried to be as firm as possible but had no idea how to handle hysterical females. That was usually Peregrine’s job. Still, he had to do something because he suspected this young woman would be inclined to run off in a fit of hysterics and alert the entire village about Sminter’s death if he didn’t calm her down.
‘Just stay calm, and wait here,’ Ronan murmured quietly. ‘We have to find out what has happened. He can’t hurt you.’
‘He is dead,’ she whispered as if it needed repeating.
‘He can’t hurt you then, can he?’ Ronan replied reasonably.
When he was sure she was going to stay where he had left her, Ronan eased the French door beside them open. The door opened without issue, alerting Ronan to the fact that Sminter probably let his killer into the house.
‘Lynchgate,’ he muttered as he stepped into the property.
A quick glance around the room assured him that nobody was lurking behind the door leading to the hallway. He then turned to look at the macabre sight the young woman had seen. It was indeed Walter Sminter, hanging from the neck, with an upturned stool several inches beneath his feet.
‘What’s your name?’ Ronan asked the young woman through the open door.
‘Geranium. Geranium Snetterton,’ she whispered.
‘Do you live with your parents?’ Ronan asked, hoping to keep the woman’s attention off the dead man.
‘Y-yes.’
‘Might I have a word with your father?’ Ronan looked at her when she hesitated.
Geranium stared at the stranger and wondered what to tell him. ‘What is your name?’
‘Ronan. Ronan Killigrew.’
‘M-my father isn’t at home at present,’ Geranium admitted. ‘He is – away.’
‘Mother? Aunt? Chaperone?’ Ronan rapped, glaring at her.
Geranium couldn’t get her mind to work past the hanging presence of the corpse just a few feet away.
‘Do you want me to send Rupert for the magistrate?’ Geranium whispered when Ronan turned to study the room.
‘Rupert?’
‘O-our gardener.’
‘No. Not yet.’
‘Should you be doing that?’ She frowned as she watched Ronan rifle through several sheets of paper on Sminter’s desk.
‘Is that Judge Sminter? Do you recognise him?’ Ronan asked, dropping the papers back onto the desk. There was no suicide note confirming that Sminter had killed himself.
In the back of his mind, Ronan contemplated Charles Rodgers’ own suicide mere days ago. It was unusual that both of Lynchgate’s associates had decided to kill themselves within days of each other.
‘Yes, it’s him.’
‘Are you sure?’ Ronan asked her sharply.
Geranium nodded.
‘You don’t have to look at him again if you don’t want to. I just need to make sure it is him,’ Ronan said. ‘I will go and alert the magistrate, not you. Right now, don’t venture into this room if it upsets you.’
‘But you are in it,’ Geranium said, as if he didn’t know.
‘But I know not to touch anything.’
‘But you were just rifling through his papers,’ Geranium protested. Thankfully, her initial shock was starting to wear off and her naturally curious nature began to flourish. ‘What are you looking for?’
‘Some sign that he might have taken his own life.’ Ronan sighed because there was none except for the upturned stool.
‘Do you think someone – m-murdered him?’ Geranium clutched at the chilled flesh of her arms.
‘I don’t know,’ Ronan muttered. ‘Was he well liked in this area?’
Geranium pulled a face. ‘In all honesty, and I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but no. I don’t think many villagers liked him.’
Ronan lifted his brows at her. ‘Why? Is it because he was a judge?’
‘No. It is because he was rude and horrible to people,’ Geranium replied with brutal honesty. ‘But I doubt anybody would have wanted this for him.’
‘It isn’t definite that he has killed himself. I mean, a judge metes out justice to a lot of criminals, Geranium,’ Ronan warned. ‘Any one of them, or their relations, might have sought to even the score as it were, if they felt that a miscarriage of justice had been done by Sminter. I don’t doubt many criminals hate him for putting them behind bars.’
Ronan knew that it was more likely that Sminter knew the Star Elite were in the area, and had decided to end his life rather than endure the shame of being arrested, and put behind bars to share cells with the men he had put there.
What Ronan didn’t tell Geranium was that the Star Elite had to assume that her presence in Sminter’s house had put her in terrible danger. It was worrying that despite her desperate screams, none of the neighbours had come running to her assistance or even find out what all the commotion was about. He had to wonder if they genuinely hadn’t heard her scream or were too afraid to come out of their houses. Either way, she was alone, having to deal with the trauma of finding a dead man all by herself.
‘Th
is has to be investigated by someone who knows what they are doing,’ Ronan informed her briskly. ‘Let me escort you home. Then I will go and fetch the magistrate. Before you go, can you tell me if Judge Sminter had any connection to the workhouse, or David Lynchgate?’
‘Lynchgate?’ Geranium couldn’t hide her dislike of having to even say his name.
‘You don’t like him either.’ It wasn’t a question. Ronan could see it in the way Geranium’s beautiful face twisted with distaste.
‘Lynchgate is Sminter’s cousin,’ Geranium muttered as if that said everything.
Ronan nodded his understanding. ‘The locals don’t like Lynchgate either.’ It wasn’t a question.
Geranium shook her head. ‘They are both cut from the same cloth. They are arrogant men who have little time or patience for others who aren’t as fortunate as them. It made everyone worry about why Lynchgate was determined to be on the Board of Governors at the workhouse, but nobody could stop him from taking over.’
‘Sminter isn’t – wasn’t.’
‘No, I don’t think so, but only on account of his work as the judge taking so much of his time.’ Geranium watched Ronan peer under the desk and check the embers in the fire before turning to study the body once more. ‘What are you looking for?’
‘Anything that might give me some idea if someone else has been here before you found Sminter’s body.’ Ronan had already seen enough to suspect that Lynchgate had murdered Sminter but couldn’t be sure until the rest of his colleagues had helped him search the house. ‘Stay here.’
‘Where are you going?’ Geranium cried when Ronan began to cross the room. ‘You can’t go in there. This is still Judge Sminter’s house, Ronan.’
‘Will you shut up?’ Ronan growled. He turned to glare at her and swore with surprise when he found her standing directly behind him.
If she gets any closer, she will be wearing my damned breeches with me.
‘This man’s house is his private property. Alright, so he might be dead, but we don’t have the right to search it,’ Geranium reasoned before he could speak. She felt guilty for even venturing into the man’s hallway.