“Yes, he has. She is in danger until we can find the man that did this. It was a man or a very large woman. Lord Tipton was not an easy target,” Nizal returned.
“Have you heard of a man named Nash Slade?” Max felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand at his own mention of the name. It made no sense. Slade had left Meg alone and did not take her the night he found her. Yet she had just seen him here on this property. He needed to protect her. And, he reminded himself, he needed to protect his heart. She was not his.
“Yes. I know of the man of whom you speak. He is dangerous—usually a hired hand, if you take my meaning.” The three men nodded in quick acknowledgement. “Perhaps you could tell me what you know of him.”
Max recounted all Meg had told him. Slade had been plundering her father’s home, then left, only to reappear on Max’s property.
“Slade is here only because he feels Lady Tipton has or knows something important to him. We need to protect her.” He looked at Harlow. “Lord Harlow asked me to engage several of my best men, which I have done. They should be here shortly. My strategy is to protect the house. We should flush out Mr. Slade,” he paused, “but only after I have a better idea of what concerns him in this. Can I meet with Lady Tipton?”
Max felt his body tense each time Nizal referred to Meg as Lady Tipton. It was as Harlow had said. Meg was being setup—perhaps being made to be a suspect in her husband’s death. He was sure she was innocent. But why would Winters do this to his own niece? He took a deep breath to relax himself. “Yes. But perhaps lunch tomorrow would be better.”
The investigator bobbed his head in agreement.
“My mother is upstairs with her now. I will let her know you wish to meet with them during the lunch meal. Gentlemen let us adjourn to dinner and continue the fact-finding tomorrow. Cook reports she is trying out some new recipes. She has promised soup for those who are cautious, but everything she makes is good.” He smiled. “I trust that you are hungry.”
“Yes, yes. The brisk weather and ride here worked up an appetite.” Nizal leaned back, expanding his visible girth against the chair.
“I will meet you both in the dining room shortly.” He got up and left the room, fighting the impulse to take the stairs to Meg’s suite two at a time. His brain told him to put distance between himself and Maggie, but his heart reminded him that she was near. He wanted to hold her again but stopped himself at the base of the stairs and grabbed his coat. A few minutes of the chilled air and an opportunity to think might help him gain perspective on where life was taking him.
Chapter 7
The lack of sunshine cast a dull look to the new day’s winter scenery outside. It looked dismal, which was close to how she felt. Maggie had been dressed for a while but lingered in her room, unsure she wanted to eat the noon meal with the family. She had had a fitful night and was uncertain she was ready to face a repeat of the obvious questions from the investigator and others. For the first time in days, she felt presentable. Lady Worsley had gotten the local seamstress to alter some gowns in the shop using Angela’s measurements. Amazingly, Angela was almost identical in size.
She sat on the window seat and gazed out at the gloomy afternoon. The copse of trees that had been to Slade’s back the day before still held frost on their branches and seemed almost magical—a sharp contrast to the terrifying feeling that had washed over her when she sighted him watching. A cold front was approaching. Mrs. Andrews had commented that she smelled snow. She was probably right, since the sun could not sufficiently dry up the foggy frost covering that heralded the morning. Her mother had had an uncanny knack for forecasting the weather. Maggie could not recall a time when her mother had not been right. She leaned back against the wall. The familiar smell of winter in the air beckoned her back to a time when her parents were alive, and all seemed right with the world.
It was just before her parents were leaving to shop for presents and other holiday fripperies in town. Mother was picking up their holiday dresses. Almost a foot of snow covered the ground and all its appointments from the night before. The day before them was crisp, bright, and snow-covered. Snow and icicles covered the trees, and the fountain outside the window of her father’s study stood frozen with solid sprays of glistening ice that looked like diamonds in the sunshine. The whole effect reminded her of a fairyland.
On this day, the frozen water framed her father’s head, giving him a crystal halo. It caught her attention as she walked into his study. He was sitting at his desk with a look of concern. “We are leaving Maidstone shortly, daughter. Are you excited?” He spoke without looking up as he continued to search through a top drawer. “I apologize. I seem to have misplaced something important.” He pushed aside items in the drawer.
“What is it, Father?”
“It is a key. An important one. I need it to get into my lockbox.” He shook his head as if clearing his thoughts. “I suppose as my eldest child…”
“Try not to fret. I will help you. But please, a young woman does not like to have herself associated with age-related words like eldest. It makes me sound spinsterish!” She laughed.
He chuckled good-naturedly. “Ha! You have nothing to worry about, my dear. You shall have your pick of husbands. But I would share some information, should anything ever happen to me.” His face took on a somber look. “I do not plan for that to happen, but life can be unpredictable.”
“That is true. Can I help you find this key? What does it look like?”
“Yes. I suppose I could l use the help. It is an iron skeleton key with a rose embossed in the center.” He smiled. “It goes to a stack of books—five of them. It makes a hollow box, and I have a lock to it. It was a gift from your mother. I use it for important papers. It contains a copy of my will and other important items.” He got up and moved to his bookcase, removing his prized Shakespeare books and tapping the back of the wall behind them. A small area to the rear of the shelf opened, and another small shelf popped into view. It held a small box disguised as a stack of books as Father had just described. They were a stack of Shakespeare books, exactly like the few he had removed from the bookcase. He pulled it from the shelf and showed it to her.
“There is where the key would fit. The key is normally in my desk. I cannot find it.” He looked on the shelf and picked up the key. “My God! I must have left it here the last time I deposited some papers.” He passed the key to Maggie for her perusal and returned the replicated stack of books. He tapped the back of the shelf and it closed, then he returned the original books.
“You probably got distracted the last time you opened the box and just forgot the key. But you have it now.” She smiled as she walked around the desk and gave him a hug.
“It is important. I have to find it. It is not a lot, but I want you to know that I keep funds in there, and my will and papers concerning an account for you. The only other person who knows of its existence is your mother. But I want you to know this—should something happen to me, your mother would need your help, and she may not recall these things. It has been a while since we have discussed it. This home was willed to your mother by her grandmother and does not belong to the entailed property of my family or title.”
“Father, it is Christmastide. Please do not mar your mood. You are going shopping. Let us speak on it tomorrow.”
“Yes. I suppose it was the tone of my brother’s unwelcome letter asking for money…again. He appears to be in more trouble with creditors. No matter. Wait.” He walked to the back of his desk, opened a small false panel, and dropped the key into it. He closed it again. “You are right, my dear.” He pulled his daughter close and gave a kiss to the top of her head. “We should focus on the holiday at hand. It is your favorite and your mother’s. Let us have a splendid Christmastide.”
“Would you mind if I did not go shopping today?”
“What? Why in heavens not? You love to shop for presents. I was looking forward to a family outing—shopping, if you can believe that.” He ch
ortled good-naturedly.
Maggie caught herself smiling as she recalled her father’s mood. He had seemed bothered by something but was not one to let things get the better of him. “I would like to take some baskets Cook’s staff has put together for our tenants. Shep will accompany me.”
“Yes. If you will promise to assist your mother with the decorating.” He hugged her close and walked with her to the door of his study.
Maggie closed her eyes. She still smelled the bayberry he wore that day. It was his scent. She adored her parents. Her father always treated her as if she was just as valuable to him as her younger brother, Nathan, even though she was a daughter. She had acquaintances who were loved by their fathers, but not treated the same. Her brother went with her parents that fateful day. Maggie squeezed her eyes tightly, tears falling, and wrapped her arms about herself. She had lost her whole family in the carriage accident on that bridge that day. The axel broke, and the carriage veered off the bridge and into the river. Shep was the only family she still had.
She opened her eyes and focused on the snow outside. She had forgotten everything in the stack of books except the money and now wondered what the papers in the lockbox would tell her.
I wonder if that is what Slade was after. There must be more in there. I have to find the book stack Father showed me. She scanned around the room for her half-boots. All she had were the satin slippers that matched the dress Lady Worsley had had made for her. Where were her leather shoes? She leaned down, searching under the bed. Shep leapt to the floor and got in her face, almost scolding her. “Rrrr-fff!”
“Do not worry, Shep. I will do nothing right now. But we need to get back to my parents’ home. I think I remember where Father left his money.”
“You are thinking of leaving, Meg?”
Maggie looked up to see Max standing in the opened doorway of her room.
“Your lordship! You scared me!” Maggie had been so lost in thought that she did not hear Max’s approach.
“I was heading downstairs and thought to see if you might join me.” A look of pain flashed across his face. “Surely, we are past your lordship, Meg. You cannot possibly be thinking of going back to your father’s home. It is far too dangerous.” He stayed in the doorway but was no longer leaning on it. “We need to talk. But not here.” He looked around. “Please meet me in my study after lunch. You need nourishment.” Max smiled down at Shep. “We have a small dish of food prepared in the kitchen for Shep. I have it on good authority that he would not leave your side this morning.” He laughed. “You need to come downstairs so your sentry can eat.” He reached down and patted the dog’s head.
That elicited a giggle from her. Max could always coax her into a better mood, no matter how bad things seemed. That is why she loved…had loved him. She needed to keep her heart out of this. “What is it you wish to discuss?” She locked eyes with him.
“Something very important.” At her look, he added, “We have guests—Harlow and a private investigator. But first, let us eat. Would you allow me to escort you?”
Maggie nodded as Max held out his arm to her. She placed a hand on his arm lightly, and a familiar jolt of awareness traveled to her very core, spreading warmth in its wake. Resisting the impulse to withdraw her hand, she kept her touch as light as she could, silently admonishing her foolish body and heart. With Shep in tow, the two left the room to join the others already waiting in the dining room.
* * *
Max felt his heart race. His body reacted immediately to her touch, with heat moving throughout his loins. Thank goodness they were walking to the dining room. He had a few precious minutes to will his body to behave. He willed his body to focus. “You remember Lord Harlow, do you not?” His suddenly dry throat struggled to finish the sentence.
Maggie nodded but did not look at him. Her focus was on the stairs ahead of them. Only a moment before, she was laughing with him. He wanted to ask her what happened, but the need to gain his self-control took priority over that desire.
Shep scampered ahead of her, already becoming accustomed to eating when she did. He seemed a very intelligent dog, picking up on everything around him quickly.
“Harlow and Mr. Nizal, the investigator, will join us.” He should give her more warning. Max did not want to overwhelm Meg in front of guests. “I told you that Tipton died. Some odd circumstances surrounded his death. You should know your uncle is trying to frame you for his murder.”
“Wait. What?” She stopped and turned to him. “He thinks I killed Fergus?”
Max studied her upturned face. There was true shock and surprise…and something more. Fear? Does she know something? She could not have done this, but what does she know? “I have known you almost my entire life, and I know you are not capable of this act. Someone slashed your husband’s throat.” He searched her eyes. “What have you not told me?”
Maggie did not look away. “My uncle was horrible to me in the short week before the marriage. He waited for some dresses that Mother had commissioned just before her death…” She brushed away a tear. “Four dresses and the undergarments were all he allowed to be made and cancelled the rest of my mother’s order. He threatened that if I did not go through with this marriage, he had other friends that would find me worthy.” A shudder shook her. “My wedding had two witnesses—only my uncle and the vicar’s clerk. Fergus had had a special license. I was to settle a gambling debt.” She grew quiet. “I was supposed to have gone with my parents the day they went to town. Uncle was shocked that I had not gone, and I have wondered about that reaction to this day.”
“Are you suggesting that someone murdered your family?”
Tears flowed freely. “I have thought it, but I had no one to turn to and knew it unwise to voice.”
“You had me. You had my family.” Bile rose in his throat. His family would have moved mountains to help her.
“I tried to escape, but he locked me in my room and sent our servants away. I had no one to help me. Even Shep was locked up. He said he would sell him to a kitchen.”
Max quieted his anger. She did not jilt me. Meg had been as much a victim as he was. He pulled her close, his lips hovering above hers. His heart ached. He had been fighting the French while she fought for her life. This had been a nightmare for Meg. He needed to hold her and never let her go.
“RRRR…uff!” A piercing bark from below stairs startled them both.
“Your sentry is hungry.” He touched her chin and gently tugged it up. “I would like to pick up where we are leaving off—perhaps this evening, over supper?”
Maggie nodded. She wiped away her tears and fixed a smile on her face.
They met Cabot as he was returning to his post. “My lord, your guests await you in the dining room.”
“Thank you, Cabot. Would you ask Mother to join us?”
“At once, my lord.” His butler left immediately.
As they entered the dining room, the two men immediately ceased their conversation.
“Lady Tipton, it has been a long time. You are as lovely as ever.” Lord Harlow stepped forward and kissed the back of her hand. “Please allow me to introduce you to a business associate, Mr. Douglas Nizal. He runs an investigative agency.” He gave a quick side glance to Max. “I trust that Lord Worsley has given you the news of your late husband.”
Maggie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “He has.”
“Then you understand that your own life could be in jeopardy,” Harlow continued.
Maggie stiffened and turned to Max. “You mean there is more?”
“My dear, that is what we are trying to find out.” He stood behind her, careful not to touch her as he had on the stairs. He was not sure he would have time to cajole his body back into correct form and did not want to create any further embarrassment or distress for Meg.
Light steps sounded behind them as his mother joined them. “Please pardon my tardiness, gentlemen.”
“Mother, thank you for joining us. You know Lord
Harlow. This gentleman is Mr. Douglas Nizal. He is here to help us protect Lady Tipton.” He hated saying Tipton’s name, but he had a new focus for his ire—Viscount Silas Winters. Meg’s uncle had much to answer for, and he would make sure he did. But first, he needed to protect Meg.
“Gentlemen, we may have more to discuss than originally imagined.” Max gestured to the food before them. “Let us first take our fill.”
The small group filled their plates and chatted about mundane pleasantries while they ate.
He turned to Meg. “If you are amenable, Meg, we would like to begin.”
She gave a slight nod and put down her fork.
“Mr. Nizal? You may proceed.” Max addressed the investigator.
“Certainly, my lord.” Nizal’s balding pate gave two quick bobs. The short man quickly withdrew a pair of wire glasses from the pocket of his waistcoat and adjusted them onto his face. He then reached into the pocket of his coat and withdrew his pad and pencil nub. “My lady, my approach is to state the facts without coloring them with emotion. If I seem abrupt, allow me to apologize in advance.” He looked up at Maggie, seated to the left of Lady Worsley. “They found your husband dead a little over a week ago. His body was sprawled beneath the bedroom balcony of his manor, and his throat was cut.” He maintained eye contact with Meg.
“That is what I was told. Lord Worsley told me that my uncle, whom I have not seen since he cast me from my home, is trying to implicate me in my husband’s demise.”
“That is preposterous!” His mother’s outburst was unanticipated. “Lady Maggie...Tipton is a lady of the highest quality. She has known my family most of her life, and I have never observed an ounce of meanness from her toward even such as a…bug!” Max’s mother almost spit the last word. “Surely you are not supporting this terrible lie.” His mother directed her fiercest look in Mr. Nizal’s direction.
The Earl She Left Behind (The Noble Hearts Series; Common Elements #1) Page 6