Patricia Frances Rowell

by A Scandalous Situation

  “Well, yes. He was extremely insistent and has since leered at me at every opportunity. I’ve known him all my life, but I have never liked him. He was a cruel child.”

  “And, perhaps, a cruel young man.”

  “I would think so. His taunting of Vijaya…” Iantha nodded and came to a stop in front of Rob, eyes narrowed in thought. “You may be correct. I have been thinking that all the notes came from those who participated in the assault, but some of them may be from malicious gossips—perhaps even women.”

  “I doubt that a woman wrote that note, considering the language.” Rob shook his head. “But we do have a pair we may suspect. I will make it my business to see a sample of their handwriting. As drunk as Cosby was yesterday while he was gambling, someone very likely holds his vowels. I’ll think of some way to see them. Kendal is too good a gambler for that.”

  Rob opened the door and held out his arm, smiling. “Now. I want my bride-to-be to put all judgmental persons out of her mind and march downstairs with her head held high like the strong soldier she is. We will rout this cowardly foe with a show of force.”

  Iantha could not quite smile, but nodded, straightened her shoulders and placed her arm on his.

  Control.

  There was an audible murmur as Lord Rosley finished his announcement and lifted his glass in a toast to Iantha and Rob. It rose louder and a scattering of applause was heard as the meaning sank in and the guests began to crowd around them to offer felicitations. Iantha fought the urge to back away, pasting a smile on her face and responding with what she hoped was appropriate warmth. What thoughts were concealed behind those pleasant faces? Were the guests shocked? Disapproving?

  Or actually happy for her?

  She might as well take the well-wishes at face value. She would soon be Lady Duncan, an honored member of the community, no longer a disgraced single female living with her family. She would play the part. Not that anyone present would ever forget what had happened to her.

  She certainly would not.

  A moment of panic clutched her when she realized that she and Rob would be expected to lead out the first dance. She had danced nowhere but the servants’ hall for the last six years. The staff’s friendly acceptance of her had made it easy, but in this assembly everyone would be looking at her, remembering.

  And wondering if Lord Duncan was out of his mind.

  She placed her trembling hand in his and glanced up into his face. He appeared as happy as a bridegroom should. Iantha drew in a breath and tried to answer his smile.

  And Rob winked at her.

  Suddenly her tension released like a dam breaking. Iantha laughed aloud, and his lordship led her down the floor. For the first time she felt as though she had a companion with whom to face the world. What a heady relief!

  From that point the evening progressed much better. Iantha danced with several partners, avoided several others and began to enjoy herself. Still, after hours of mingling with so many people she felt the need to withdraw for a moment. It would not do for the honoree of the ball to disappear for long, so she stepped into a curtained window embrasure and looked out into the night. As Rob had said earlier, a fierce storm was raging. It gave her a comfortable, cozy feeling to watch the windblown snow safely shut out of the house.

  Suddenly, her peace was shattered by the sound of a raucous, drunken laugh. Iantha froze. She closed her eyes and was suddenly again lying on frozen ground, numb with pain, her heart pounding in her ears, tears frozen on her face. She had heard that laugh that night. Surely there were not two people in all the world who sounded that much like a braying donkey.

  Oh, dear God. Was he standing a few feet away from her?

  She tried to make herself move, to peep out of the curtain and discover the identity of the laughter.

  She couldn’t do it. Fear threatened to choke her.

  How long Iantha stood immobile she didn’t know. Finally her mind begin to work again. She must look. Perhaps she could at last identify one of her attackers. Sternly fighting the terror, she peered cautiously around the curtain. All she could see was the throng of dancers and clumps of people loudly conversing.

  Where was Rob? She must tell Rob! Iantha darted out of the enclosure, gazing wildly about. Someone spoke to her, but she brushed past, almost running. Where was he? Where was he?

  “Iantha!”

  She stifled a shriek as someone grasped her arm.

  “Iantha, stop. It is I.”

  Rob! She covered her face with both hands, trying to find enough control to speak. After several breaths she blurted out, “He’s here!”

  “Who?” Rob sent a searching gaze around the room.

  “I don’t know. I heard him laugh. He laughed the way he did the night they…” She couldn’t go on.

  Several people had stopped to listen, puzzled expressions gradually clearing when they realized what she meant. They, too, began to look around the room.

  “You didn’t see him?” Rob clasped her arms and looked into her face.

  She shook her head. “I had stepped into the window for a moment.”

  “Then all we can do is hope he laughs again. Can you stay with me and listen for him? Can you do it?”

  “I…I will try.” Iantha straightened. “Yes. I will do it.”

  And she had done it, little though it had availed them. Iantha’s courage was amazing, Rob thought. She had calmed herself, and they had strolled around the room together until the guests began to yawn and drift away toward their respective bedchambers.

  But they heard no distinctive laugh.

  The only disturbance occurred when Carrock once more made a drunken fool of himself and was once more escorted up to bed, this time by Wycomb. Lord Sebergham had made it plain that he had done that duty once and did not desire to do so again.

  As Rob untied his cravat in preparation for bed, he reflected that he now had a growing list of persons whom he hoped never to see again. Carrock and Kendal would for damn sure never again be invited into his home.

  Carrock was a nuisance, and Rob despised Kendal’s sort, but his feelings toward the vicious letter writer and the noisy laugher were distinctly predatory. He would hunt them down if it was the last thing he ever did! Were they one and the same? If he had just one more clue, a hint of who the cad who’d laughed was, then perhaps he could determine if the man was, in fact, one of Iantha’s attackers.

  And if he was, heaven help him!

  Suddenly, the unmistakable crack of a pistol shot reverberated through the stone corridors.

  Flinging behind him the shirt he had just pulled off, Rob charged out of his bedchamber and raced in the direction from which he thought the sound had come. All down the hallway people were poking their heads out of their doors, a few of the men emerging in various degrees of dishabille, and everyone asking everyone else who had fired the shot. A quick survey pinpointed a door still tightly shut, midway down the corridor.

  Rob approached the door and tried the handle. It didn’t budge. He rattled it with an authoritative knock. There was no response. He turned to the watchers. “Whose room is this?”

  A mutter of voices and a process of elimination ensued. Finally Horace Raunds spoke up. “It must be Carrock’s room.”

  “Yes, it is. I brought him up here earlier this evening.” Stephen Wycomb, tying the belt of his robe, rounded the corner from an adjoining wing in time to confirm this opinion.

  “Do you have the key?” Rob shook the door again.

  “No. Cosby had it. I had to unlock the door for him, but I returned the key to him.”

  “Did you hear him lock it?”

  Wycomb shrugged. “I don’t remember. I don’t think so.”

  “Maybe he is just sleeping it off.” Rob banged on the door with increasing vigor.

  An anxious voice at Rob’s elbow interrupted him. “Lord Duncan, excuse me.” Rob looked down into the face of a short, slightly built man with graying hair. “I believe my son would have awakened by now
with all this noise. Is there another key to the room?”

  “I’m sure there is, Lord Kilbride, but my housekeeper probably has it.” Rob glanced at the faces surrounding him, finally spotting a henchman in the back of the crowd. “Thursby, please go fetch Mrs. Lamonby and tell her to bring her keys.”

  The footman departed at a run for the back stairs. Various of the guests returned to their rooms to don shirts or dressing gowns. Rob did not. He wanted to be sure no one else tried to get into the locked chamber. Gradually the group of men in the hall grew larger, the women contenting themselves with peering out from their respective rooms.

  After a short wait Thursby came back with Mrs. Lamonby. The housekeeper was wrapped in a flannel robe, her graying hair in a long braid. In her hand she carried a large ring of keys. Rob stepped back and indicated the door with a nod. He waited impatiently while she sorted through the keys, peering nearsightedly at various markings. At length she selected one, tried it and discarded it. Her second choice proved more successful, and Rob heard the click of the lock opening. He stepped forward and gestured for Mrs. Lamonby to move away.

  She did so, and Rob turned the handle and opened the door a crack. He cautiously looked through it, then, with an oath, pushed the door open and dashed into the room. A small crowd of men surged in after him, stopping near the door at the sight that confronted them. Lord Alton placed a comforting hand on Lord Kilbride’s shoulder.

  Cosby Carrock lay facedown in a pool of blood. Rob knelt beside him and searched for a pulse. Finding none, he rolled Carrock onto his back. A large hole gaped in his bare chest. Rob glanced around for the pistol. He didn’t find that, either. He got to his feet.

  “Please. Everyone stay back. Does anyone see the pistol?” Presumably, everyone looked about, but no one answered. Rob stood. “We need to clear the room. If all of you would wait outside…” The shuffle of feet indicated a retreat. Rob waited until no one but himself was left in the room, then closed and locked the door, wrinkling his nose at the smell of death that pervaded the chamber.

  Where was the damn pistol? From all appearances Carrock had shot himself in a locked room. But he hadn’t done it without a weapon. And with that wound, he hadn’t done anything at all after he was shot, let alone hide the gun.

  Rob made a thorough search for the pistol. He discovered no weapon anywhere that Carrock might have flung it, even had he been able. The conclusion was inescapable. Cosby Carrock had not shot himself.

  Rob had a murderer in his house.

  Chapter Eight

  “But what happened to the damn pistol?” Rob was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace in Iantha’s sitting room. He had gone there immediately after re-locking Carrock’s room. He wanted to be sure she was not frightened. And somehow, of late, discussing things with her had begun to feel natural. “The door was locked from the inside. I saw the key and removed it. So who locked it from the inside earlier, and where are they?”

  “Cosby might have locked it himself.” Iantha’s brow puckered in thought.

  “True. But he did not do it after he was shot, nor did he shoot himself with a nonexistent pistol. Someone was in that room with him, and that someone shot him. But how did they get out?” Rob stopped in front of Iantha and scowled.

  “I don’t know, my lord. Is there possibly a hidden way out?”

  Rob pondered that question. “No, I’m pretty sure there isn’t. Sam and I used to explore for such things when we were boys. We found one in the master bedchamber that comes out on a narrow track on the face of the cliff behind the castle, and one in the corridor that comes out in the kitchen. It was probably used by the servants in former times. We looked and looked for others, but didn’t find them.”

  “Maybe we should search again.”

  “Aye, I will do so tomorrow.”

  “Why don’t we look now?”

  “We? Now?” Rob turned toward her. “There is a dead body in the room now.”

  “True. But you covered it, didn’t you?”

  “The room stinks.”

  “I believe I could withstand that for the sake of a bit of adventure.”

  Rob grinned. “Ah, so that’s how it is, is it? It’s a pretty grim adventure, but probably safe enough. You’re sure you want to accompany me?”

  An impish smile lit her face. “You promised me adventure.”

  “So I did. Very well, let’s go and look.”

  Iantha pulled her dressing gown more closely around herself and frowned. What good was an adventure that didn’t prove to have a secret passage, after all? Her gaze traveled to the grotesque shape under the bloodstained sheet in the middle of the floor. Had Cosby Carrock written her the latest horrid letter? Was he possibly the source of that dreadful laugh? She had never heard him laugh that way, but of course, that wasn’t surprising. She had avoided him throughout most of their acquaintance, especially when he was drunk. Iantha stared at the sheet.

  She didn’t know whether to pity Cosby or to gloat.

  She turned to Rob. “Well, since it seems that I am not going to have the adventure of exploring a hidden passage, what should we do next?”

  He shrugged. “We need to develop another theory. How did the rascal get out of this room?”

  “He might have hidden, but that still doesn’t answer the puzzle…unless…” She stared for a heartbeat at the closed door. Suddenly, she was certain. “Unless he was behind the door. Did you look there when you entered the room?”

  “Nay, I did not. I was too alarmed when I saw Carrock. I made straight for him.” Rob walked to the door and opened it, his eyes narrowed in thought. “Come, stand behind it for a moment.”

  Iantha obligingly stepped around the panel. Rob went out into the hall and turned to face the door. “I can’t see you at all.” He came a few steps into the room. “No, I still can’t see you. I think you are on the track here. The whole crowd came into the room behind me. All the killer would have had to do was emerge from concealment and mingle with the others. Damnation! He was there all along!”

  “He must have a very cool head.” Iantha came to stand beside Rob.

  “Indeed he must. And also a very good understanding of how the guests would react. He must have already had on his dressing gown. There was nothing to set him apart. Damn his eyes!” Rob’s brows drew together in frustration.

  “Yes, that must have been how he did it. But why did he do it? Cosby was annoying, but I would have thought him inept and therefore relatively harmless.”

  Rob’s frown increased. “Perhaps he was too inept. The murderer feared he would reveal something.” He thought for another moment. “A number of people saw your reaction to that guffaw. They also saw us patrolling the room, trying to identify the rogue.”

  “And someone who knew who the laugher was realized that I had recognized his voice and knew why it frightened me.” The chill in Iantha was growing. “That would mean that Cosby was one of them.”

  Rob moved a little closer to her. “Aye. That is one likely explanation.”

  Iantha turned in a circle as if she might see through the walls. “If that is so, then there is another of them here.”

  “Yes, it means that, and that he is willing to kill to keep his identity secret.”

  “Oh, Rob.”

  Iantha took one step toward him, and he gathered her into his arms.

  It also meant that Iantha might be in increased danger. The bastards continued to threaten her in those hateful letters. If they thought she might have other clues as to who they were, no doubt they would take steps to silence her. Rob glanced at his future father-in-law. His grave countenance suggested that he, too, had recognized the threat.

  They sat in the library the morning after the shooting, awaiting the arrival of Lord Alton, the next guest on their list. Thank heaven Lord Rosley was the magistrate for the district. Last night’s storm had ensured that no one would be able to get in or out of the castle for at least another day. They would have time to investi
gate the shooting.

  Rob and Rosley came to their feet as Lord Alton entered. Obviously, his lordship was not best pleased. His eyebrows were almost meeting in the middle, and his side-whiskers bristled aggressively. He started speaking even while settling himself in the chair Rob indicated. “See here, Duncan, what are you going to do about this outrage?”

  So Alton realized the significance of the absent pistol. Rob kept his expression and his voice mild. “I am going to investigate it, and I hope bring a murderer to justice.”

  “What the devil is there to investigate?” Alton leaned forward in his chair. “Everyone knows who did it. We all saw how angry your Indian friend was at Carrock. I suspect I shall be next, for I made the original comment. I’m sorry for that. Had I realized he was within earshot, I would not have said it. Nonetheless, I would thank you to lock him up. I have no wish to be the next with a ball in my chest.”

  With some difficulty, Rob maintained his grip on his temper. “I think it highly unlikely that Prince Vijaya is the culprit.”

  “Oh, come now. Just because he is your friend—”

  “He is, but that is not my reason for doubting your assumption.” Rob held the older man’s gaze with his. “I have known him for many years, and I do not believe that Vijaya would seek to avenge an insult in secret or with a pistol. A firearm would not be…personal enough. He would have used a blade.”

  Rob experienced an unkind glow of satisfaction when Lord Alton blanched. “If that is supposed to comfort me, Duncan, you are fair and far off. I have no more wish to have a blade in me than I do a ball.”

  “I do not think you are in any danger from Vijaya, Alton, but I assure you that we will leave no one out of consideration.”

  Lord Rosley cleared his throat. “Indeed not. Will you kindly tell us everything you can remember about the incident? I believe you were among the first to arrive on the scene.”