“He had that reputation, yes.” Harlow grimaced. “I sent word for Dean to request Mr. Nizal to meet us at your home post haste. The man is a well-respected investigator and we consider his men top-notch. Most importantly, I believe he would know this man, Slade. He knows of Tipton, and he is very familiar with Viscount Winters.”
“Thank you for the foresight. I left my footmen aware of Meg’s too-brief description of Nash Slade. I should get a better one when I can speak to her. But the footmen will watch the perimeter of the property.”
“Nizal should be close behind us.”
With the horses rested and fed, the two headed home, making it in just a few hours. They rode up to the door of the Georgian mansion and handed the reins of their horses to the footman before taking the steps two at a time.
“Good evening, my lords.” Cabot opened the door and took their hats and coats. “The fire has just been stoked for your arrival.”
“How did you know we…? Forget it. You just knew.” Max shook his head at his perceptive butler and moved past, heading for his office, happy to be warm again. He removed a decanter of brandy from the drawer of his desk along with two small glasses, pouring a liberal amount in each. “Here you go, Harlow.” He passed his best friend a glass and sat down in his chair while Harlow took one in front of the desk. True to his word, the room was toasty.
“Perhaps we should take a small group of footmen and ride the perimeter of the property.” Max was restless. What he wanted to do was go upstairs to check on Maggie.
“It’s almost nightfall. Let us wait until morning. Do you think there is a possibility they followed you here the other night? She said Slade left and did not harm her. Maybe Slade is not the person in pursuit of Lady Tipton. Perhaps her uncle has hired another. It seems logical that they would look for her at the home she knew before the marriage.” Harlow leaned back in his chair and rested one leg over the other.
“I guess that is possible.”
“Go check on her. I will head up to unpack my bag and will return here.”
“You always could read me.” Max took a swig of the brandy and set the glass down on his desk. “I will not be long.” I cannot wait to see her.
Harlow’s chuckle followed him down the hall.
Max took a calming breath and knocked, and a sharp yip answered behind the door to his sister’s room. He knew he should not have come up here unchaperoned, but he would only be two minutes, he reasoned.
“Come in.”
Maggie sat on the window seat. Her legs were pulled up under her robe, and her chin was on her knees. She was rocking back and forth, clearly distressed.
“Why are you not in bed?” Something had upset her. He stepped inside leaving the door slightly opened behind him. Shep whimpered and jumped off the window seat, allowing him room to sit. Max picked up her hand and found it cold. “Maggie, can you look at me?” He lifted her head to find her eyes red-rimmed. “Did something happen today?”
“I should leave, Max. I do not want anyone to get hurt because of me.”
“What? Why are you so upset? Did someone say something?”
“No...” She took a cleansing breath. “My husband…it has all been a bad dream, and now he is here. I cannot let him get me.”
She does not know Tipton is dead. But if Tipton is dead… A sense of dread filled him. “Who are you talking about? Who is coming after you?”
“Slade. He is here.”
“You saw him? When? Where?” Max needed to make her feel safe.
“He was out there.” She pointed beyond the rose garden. “He was looking up at my window this morning.”
Max knew there were experienced men scattered across his property whose sole job was to monitor the grounds. Yet, this…Slade had found his way onto the grounds, and below her window, no less. The thought both unnerved and angered him.
He pulled her close, his chin resting on the top of her head. Her hair smelled of lilacs. The fragrance arrested his body, niggling every part of him into a muddled awareness of her. Max inhaled deeply, wanting to envelop her whole essence. Her scent clouded his judgement. He needed to protect her, not seduce her.
She looked up at him and slowly wound her arms around his neck, placing her head on his shoulder. Heat shot to his loins. Mercy, he was losing this battle. His head told him to pull back, find space. But his body relished the feel of her in his arms. When she lifted her head again, he lowered his. His lips brushed hers lightly. An awareness of what he was about to do washed over him and jerked him from his trance. “I must apologize for that.”
“Please do not be sorry. You only meant to comfort me.” She looked down and wrung her hands. “I am really worried. If he finds me, it could be trouble for everyone. I do not want to cause your family hardship. You have only tried to help me. If not for you…” She stopped talking and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Harlow returned with me. And footmen are on patrol. Harlow and I had planned to ride the perimeter tomorrow, but maybe tonight would be better.” He stood to leave.
“Wait. Please do not leave me.”
“You are trembling.” His heart ached to see her distressed so. He sat and pulled her close. She wound her hands around his neck, resting them on the nape. Moaning, she opened her lips to him, and he covered them forcefully, meeting her tongue with his own. Dear sweet Meg. He pulled her to his chest and held her tight, wanting only to bury his face in her hair. It faintly smelled of lilacs and made him long for sunshine and green trees. It made him think of happiness and…
He pulled back, barely able to catch his breath. This was wrong. Tipton was dead, but Meg was still not his. He had to tell her.
“We will keep you safe. You and Shep are staying here.” Softly, he held her shoulders and looked into her eyes. “There is something you must know.”
“What is there to tell me?” Her eyes glistened, and her swollen lips looked fiercely kissed.
He struggled to maintain his distance. He wanted more of her—he needed more of her. Max swallowed. I must tell her.
“Maggie, your husband is dead. He will never hurt you again.”
Chapter 6
Fergus was dead. How could that be? Maggie opened and closed her mouth. No words came out. A strange, paralyzing sensation swept through her body, the same feeling she had experienced when Uncle Silas told her she was to be married. Was this shock?
If Fergus was dead, why was Uncle Silas’s man here? He was somewhere on the grounds of Hambright Manor. She had seen him.
I keep answering you, Max, but you act like you cannot hear me. Help me.
Stark realization hit that she was having an episode…again.
The last time this happened, Uncle Silas had slapped her—hard. So hard, she had fallen to her knees. “You will not act like you do not hear me,” he had said as he knocked her to the ground. She could tell Max was talking to her, but she could hear nothing but her heart pounding in her ears. Her vision…what was happening? Everything was going black. She felt herself falling.
“Maggie! Oh my God. Summon Perth.” Max shouted orders at Anna as she walked through the open bedroom door. For a moment, the young girl stood staring at her mistress, seemingly unable to move herself.
Maggie heard the loud voices but felt safe. Strong arms held her, and the scent of sandalwood surrounded her. She mouthed his name in recognition. Max. The short period that he was gone had left her feeling lost. It had been years since she had visited this house. She adored Lady Worsley. The older woman exuded warmth and treated Maggie with something beyond mere respect. She cared about Maggie. The abrupt marriage to Tipton had hurt more than just Max. Now the danger following her was being thrust upon the household.
Maggie heard words and loud movements around her. “If that is Perth, show him in quickly.” Max’s rich baritone always soothed her.
“Good evening, milord.”
“Perth, I was talking to her, and she fainted. I barely caught her.” Max’s voice crack
ed with emotion.
“Aye. I ken ye are concerned. The lass has fainted. I do not think her condition has worsened.” The doctor helped Max lower her onto the bed and felt her head and neck. “Lady Tipton doesnae feel hot. ‘Tis good. She is healing. Did anything upset her?”
“We were just made aware that Lord Tipton is dead.” Max’s voice sounded cold.
Maggie struggled to wake up. She had to alert Max to Slade’s presence. “Mummph!” She forced out a noise and slowly opened her eyes, then closed them against the bright light.
“She is waking.” Perth’s low burr alerted the room.
“Maggie.” The rustle of skirts preceded Lady’s Worsley’s concerned appearance as she leaned over her. “I brought some of my ammonia, but I see we do not need it.” She smiled.
Maggie managed a slight smile. “Yes, well, that stuff is for the stout of heart,” she said softly. “I heard everyone talking. I tried to answer, but I could not make you hear me. It is important.” She turned to Max. “Slade. He knows I am here.” She shuddered.
“Yes. You told me just before…” A flash of pain crossed his face before he forced a smile. “I will send for Cabot and a footman.” Max came closer and leaned down over her. “You are safe here. I will ensure it.”
Somehow, she still felt safe. “But you said Fergus…Lord Tipton…” She tried to pick her head up from the pillow, but it was too heavy. “You said he was dead. How?”
“He fell from the second floor of the townhouse, but my sources tell me that his throat was slit and there were signs of a struggle.”
Maggie was sure the blood had left her body. Fergus…murdered? Surely, she was not suspected. Her heart pounded.
“Was your husband alive when you left him?” Lady Worsley sat next to her, wiping her face, calming her. She gave a small pat to Shep, who lay quietly with his head down and eyes watching those around Maggie.
“He was alive when I left.” She bobbed her head slowly.
“Aye. Go on, lass. Tell us what you remember.” The doctor’s quiet burr relaxed her.
“Fergus was a gambler, and he bragged that he had won big the last time he…” Her chin dropped, and she turned her head away from both men. At the tone of her voice, Shep rose, gave a small whimper, and jumped up on her bed, slowly walking to her pillow. He gave her a small lick on the cheek and settled next to her shoulders, nuzzling her gently. “He enjoyed inflicting pain when he took his…” She choked on tears and could not finish her words.
“Tell us what you remember about the night you left. I did not ask much about it, but we need to know if we are to help you.” Max’s rich voice tugged at her heart. She loved him as much as she always had. He was a kind man, such a contrast to what she had known of her husband.
“I think I told you that Nash Slade is my uncle’s man. He does things for him. I am having a hard time reconciling that he left me alone at my parents’ house but followed me here. I am afraid I have brought danger to your door.” Tears brimmed as she turned her face up to Lady Worsley. “I would never willingly have done that. I do not understand what he is looking for here.”
She gripped Maggie’s hand gently. “You have brought nothing but sunshine to our home. You dropped out of our lives…” She paused. “You are back, and we will protect you until we figure this out. Right, Max?” She looked at her son.
“Ahem.” Cabot made it known that he stood outside the door. Max rose to speak with him.
“My lord, Lord Harlow awaits you in your office.” He cleared his throat. “And my lord, a missive from a Mr. Dean has just arrived.”
Max stuck his head back in the door for a moment. “I must see to this. Perth, please see me when you conclude here.” He turned to Maggie. “Meg, please listen to Dr. Perth and Mother. They will probably want to cut off this interrogation in favor of rest, but if you would like to speak later, that would be helpful. There is much we need to know.” With that, Max nodded to Dr. Perth and his mother and left quickly. She heard him giving orders to a footman to increase the perimeter patrol as he headed to his office.
“I will come back and check on you before too long, my lady.” Dr. Perth reached down and patted Shep, then packed his black bag. “It is imperative that you rest. Please stay in the house. The cold air would not be good for you, and we do not want you to get the ague or a fever. You may walk as you are comfortable. I will be back to check on you.” The doctor picked up his bag and left, closing the door behind him.
Maggie felt exhausted all of a sudden. “Perhaps I should get some rest. There is so much to think about. I feel fatigued.”
“Yes, my lady,” Anna said.
Maggie’s head crashed wearily back onto her pillow, and she pulled Shep closer. His presence comforted her in the face of a fear that she could not fully identify. She was frightened but unsure where the danger was. What she knew was that she needed to find her father’s papers. The only clue she had was that they were in a stack of his books that she would know well. That made little sense. She could not let Max and his family face the danger that followed her, but she wished she knew what she was facing.
* * *
Max hastily headed to his office in anticipation of his guests. He silently prayed for good news. Opening the door to his office, he paused just as Cabot descended the stairs. “Cabot, I will be meeting with several guests. Please send for glasses and bring a fresh bottle of brandy from the cellar. I fear we will need refreshment.”
“Yes, my lord.” The servant bowed his head and left as Max walked into his study.
Harlow stood looking out of Max’s front of the window, with his arms slightly crossed behind his back when Max entered. His friend turned and smiled. “I am glad you sent for fortifications. I am afraid I helped myself to the last of the brandy.” Grinning, he moved to shake hands with his friend.
Max chuckled. “I am glad to see you, Harlow and appreciate your help in all of this. I hope your affable mood is an indicator of the news.”
“No, but good humor helps me think better. Clears the head.”
Quickened footsteps sounded on the wooden floor outside his study before a rap sounded at the door.
“Yes?” Max hoped the investigator had arrived. He was eager to get the meeting started.
A stern-faced Cabot opened the door and stepped aside to allow Max a view of his expected guests. “My lords, a Mr. Nizal has arrived.”
“Thank you, Cabot.” Max stepped from behind his desk to greet his newest guest, dismissing Cabot with a slight nod. “Mr. Nizal.” He clasped the man’s hand and shook it. “Thank you for coming. I have heard much about your work and am eager to hear your ideas and suggestions on the matter at hand. I trust Harlow has filled you in.”
A short, stout man with a slightly balding pate, Nizal stood next to Harlow and nodded in appreciation of the welcome. His dark brown wool suit and beige linen waistcoat blended well with the faded auburn and grey hair that framed the sides and back of his dome. His cedar-brown eyes seemed to scan the room, taking in the details that surrounded him.
“If I may, my lord? I would like to get started.” Mr. Nizal made himself comfortable in one of the brown leather armchairs that faced Max’s desk. He took out a pad from an inner coat pocket and opened it to an already marked page. He extracted a small pencil nub from the same pocket. “My lord, shall we get started?” The short man regarded him somberly.
“Absolutely.” Nizal’s no-nonsense attitude impressed Max. “Cabot should return with some refreshments momentarily.” He glanced at Harlow. “We should have no other interruption.”
As if on cue, Cabot quietly entered and set three clean glasses and a brandy decanter on an ornate table to the left of the desk and exited. The door closed quietly behind him.
Max was anxious. “Harlow has informed me of the death of Lord Tipton. Do you have any further details regarding how it happened or when?”
Mr. Nizal harrumphed and cleared his throat. “Yes, my lord. A week past, they found Lor
d Tipton with his throat cut, lying in a pool of his own blood under the balcony of his bedroom. There were signs of a struggle.” Nizal flipped a page on his pad. “His dress…” He again cleared his throat. “His clothing was torn on the arms and chest area, and his trousers, er…the front flap was…compromised.” He finished and looked away for a moment.
Max’s blood boiled. He fought to hold it at bay. Maggie had just suffered a loss. What kind of barbarian had they forced her to marry? Tipton was a rather large man. The state of undress suggested he had recently had a companion, but it did not mean it was his wife. She had lost her child. He forced himself to recall Meg’s description of her final interaction with him. Max cleared his throat. “Are they certain his wife was in residence at the time of his death?” He did not want to ask this question but needed to know what Nizal knew.
“Yes, my lord. However, her maid attests that she had only just had a miscarriage. I have verified that with the local midwife that cared for her during this time of need.”
“I do not know what the characterization of his death is…unless you know.” Max paused for a moment, giving the investigator an opportunity to add something. But the man was doing the same thing he was—gathering information. Nizal said nothing, so Max continued, “Harlow indicated that they believe Tipton’s death a crime of opportunity.” He poured ample brandy into each of the three glasses. He handed glasses to Nizal and Harlow. Picking up his, Max took a sip and swallowed, then set the glass in front of himself. “Any suspects? What are your thoughts?”
The stocky man sat back in his chair and laid the pad in his lap. “They suspect murder, my lord. And while the evidence does not wholly support it, Viscount Winters is making noises that his niece has run from the crime and is offering a reward for her return.”
“I found her nearly beyond help in the rain with only her dog to warm her a few days past. I am sure Harlow has apprised you of the details.”
The Earl She Left Behind (The Noble Hearts Series; Common Elements #1) Page 5