The Rogue’s Dangerous Confession (Dangerous Desires Book 3)

by Ella Edon

  Then again, a lot of things she never expected of Alexander Harrison. He was a lot more complex than anyone knew.

  Alexander lowered his head. His hand gently nudged her head up, and Jane didn’t fight him. She couldn’t move, but she didn’t want to. If it had been anyone else, she would have pushed them away.

  But not Alexander. She just couldn’t.

  His breath was warm against her mouth. Jane was closing her eyes when there was a sudden rap at the door. Alexander moved away from her so quickly that Jane staggered. He moved across the room and stood by the window, his back to her with his arms folded. There was tension in his shoulders.

  Jane stared at him. What had just happened there? Then she remembered there was someone at the door and hurried to it. Lord Surrey was on the other side, looking grim as Jane opened the door.

  “Is Mr. Harrison in here?”

  “He is.”

  Jane looked over her shoulder at Alexander, who hadn’t turned around. Lord Surrey grunted as he entered.

  “So, this is where you’re hiding, is it? I hope Lord Crawley or his sons don’t find out about this.”

  Alexander turned and scowled. “What is it?”

  Lord Surrey glanced at Jane, hesitating for a moment. “We’ve found two more bodies.”

  Jane’s body went cold. Two more bodies? She shivered. Alexander was hurrying over from the window.

  “Where?”

  “In the compost pile behind the stables.” Lord Surrey jerked his head towards the hallway. “You need to come. Now.”

  * * *

  Alexander hurried down the stairs and had to jog to keep up with Lee’s long strides.

  “How did these bodies manage to turn up?” he asked as they made their way through the maze of hallways to the courtyard. “Where were they?”

  “According to the stable manager, Evans, the storm turned the compost heap into a pile of slush. It started coming in through the stalls, so they were in the process of cleaning it up.” Lee led the way into the passageway behind the kitchens. “When they went to make the heap more secure, the stable lads found the bodies half-emerged from the mess.”

  So, they had been buried inside the compost heap, and the storm had brought them out again. Just like Megan White.

  “What are the chances they were killed at the same time as Miss White?”

  Lee grunted. “It’s possible. I’m not into coincidences. It would make sense if they disappeared at the same time as Miss White.”

  “How do you make that out?”

  “Every month, the estate makes a bonfire of the compost to get rid of it and start over. When you own horses, the smell can get pretty strong.”

  “And I bet it stinks when the bonfire is going.”

  “Not as bad as if it had been left alone. Their usual day for burning was yesterday, but with the storm coming in, the stable hands were more concerned about the horses getting wet than burning the compost pile.”

  That certainly hadn’t worked in the killer’s favor, Alexander thought. They had put the bodies into the compost and covered them, hoping that they would be burned away in the bonfire. Which meant that the killer either worked or lived in the house or knew the schedule of the house well enough to know where to hide the bodies.

  Neither scenario made Alexander feel any better.

  The bodies were laid out on the grass, lying side by side and still covered in horse dung and mud. Two of the young lads who worked in the stables were standing over them, looking like they would rather be anywhere else. With both the smell and the dead bodies, Alexander didn’t blame them.

  “This is Christian Elliott, the Earl’s family physician.” Lee indicated the male body. “He’s been attending the family for over twenty years. And Rosemary Wray,” he pointed at the female, “Lady Crawley’s personal maid.”

  Alexander moved closer to have a look. Both Mr. Elliott and Rosemary were in their fifties. Mr. Elliott had a full head of white hair, matted with dung, and his complexion said he had spent some time abroad in his youth and the darkened sun-kissed skin had never really gone away. Rosemary was tall and lean, her hair a pale red and stuck to her face and neck. Both would have been handsome people had they been alive.

  Alexander crouched beside Rosemary. Her skin looked waxen, and was turning grey. There were dark marks around her neck that looked like bruises. Looking more closely, Alexander could see they were finger marks. Just like Megan White, she had been strangled. From the red patch across Elliott’s shirt and jacket, he had been stabbed.

  “They look like they’ve been dead for some time,” he commented.

  Lee raised his eyebrows.

  “You know something about dead bodies?”

  “I had a tutor who was fascinated with everything involving science when I was a child. Andreas Vesalius’s On the Fabric of the Body was a particular favorite.”

  Lee grunted. “My tutors were more focused on politics, literature and music as well as physical activity.”

  “Sounds like they weren’t interested if the world is flat or round.”

  “As long as I got an education where I could follow my father as his heir, they didn’t care about the natural world.” Lee folded his arms and frowned at the bodies. “I spoke to the butler and he said that Rosemary disappeared about three weeks ago. Lady Crawley was confused and then very upset about her vanishing.”

  “The two of them were close?”

  “Absolutely. Mr. Elliott disappeared shortly after. My personal physician has been having to take up the slack and take them on as patients.”

  “And nobody questioned it?”

  “They did to begin with. Neither had showed signs of wanting to leave. But then some letters turned up at Mrs. Elliott’s home in her husband’s handwriting.” Lee pursed his lips. “They deduced that Mr. Elliott and Rosemary had been having an affair and they had run off together.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Alexander snorted. “People believed that, did they?”

  “Not initially. Rosemary Wray had taken her vows at Saint Cecilia years ago and even though she worked here, she had never left the nunnery. Then I heard rumors going around that Rosemary had broken her vows to run off with a married man and she was ex-communicated.”

  “You hear a lot up in London.”

  Lee shrugged. “Being the magistrate and the Marquess of Surrey means I get a lot of gossip and rumors thrown my way.”

  “I didn’t think you would be a gossip-monger.”

  “More like everyone gives me the gossip and expects me to find out if it’s the truth or not.” Lee moved around the bodies. “If these two died about the same time as Megan White, then we’ve got something far more serious going on. If they had died of natural causes, they wouldn’t have been thrown in here waiting to be burned to cinders.”

  “You have a point.” Alexander rose to his feet. “Could Miss White have been buried in the compost as well?”

  “No, it’s too far away from the pond. She was more likely buried elsewhere.”

  Elsewhere. Three bodies buried on the same strip of land owned by the Earl of Crawley. Alexander didn’t know if that was pointing a finger directly at the Earl as a threat or that the old gentleman was the one responsible, but the fact they had found this many dead people in one day was something that didn’t sit well with him.

  He hoped to God that they didn’t find any more bodies.

  “I’ve got to tell Mr. Elliott’s widow and Lady Crawley about this,” Lee said grimly. “I’m not looking forward to it.”

  “Want me to deal with the bodies while you do that?” Alexander asked.

  He didn’t want to move the bodies, but he would rather do that than break bad news. Lee sighed. “Not really. But it’s better to get it done.”

  * * *

  Rosemary was dead. When Jane heard the news, it was hard to take in. Rosemary had been in the household since Jane was a baby, her mother’s lady’s maid and confidant. She had been the one who
bounced Jane on her knee and chased her around the gardens when Jane was a small child, doing everything that her mother wasn’t able to do due to her age. Jane had a lot of very fond memories of the maid.

  She couldn’t be gone. Surely, she couldn’t be.

  Then Jane thought about her mother. She had loved Rosemary. Rosemary was not just a servant; she was a friend. She had to be devastated about this.

  Changing into a warm evening dress, something simple but appropriate for the time of day - her parents were always telling her to dress for the right time of day, no matter what - Jane headed downstairs. Her mother spent most of her time in the parlor, choosing that to be her inner sanctum. Jane would be surprised if she found her anywhere else. Her mother was a creature of habit.

  And she was right. Lady Crawley was sitting on a chaise lounge by the fire, her head down and her shoulders trembling. With a shock, Jane realized that she was crying. Her mother was such a strong lady, and would never let emotions get in the way of anything. She couldn’t remember the last time she saw her mother crying, if she had at all. Sitting beside her, looking very awkward, was Rachel. She looked like she would rather be elsewhere.

  Served her right for latching on to the Countess and telling her things about Alexander. Now Lady Crawley seemed to have taken her on to replace Rosemary. Jane had wondered when Rachel realized what she had become after tattling on her. It was her own fault.

  Jane crossed the room and knelt before her mother.

  “Mother?”

  Lady Crawley sniffed and raised her head. There were tear tracks on her cheeks.

  “Oh, Jane.” She fumbled for a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. “Forgive me. I shouldn’t be behaving like this.”

  “You have every right to be upset, Mother.” Jane took her mother’s hands. She was frailer than before. “Rosemary was your maid, and I know the two of you were close. It’s not something you can push aside.”

  Lady Crawley nodded. Then she took a deep breath, and Jane could see her attempting to school her emotions. But it didn’t work, and she slumped.

  “This is one of those times where I’m glad you listen to your emotions, Jane. I need someone sympathetic right now.”

  Jane smiled. “You’ll always have me, Mother. You know that.”

  “I do. Thank God.” Lady Crawley squeezed her hands. She sighed. “I cannot believe that Rosemary’s gone now. When she disappeared, I had no idea what was going on. I thought she might have gone back to her mother’s in Dorset, but she would have given her notice or even left a letter where she was going.” She swallowed. “Rosemary was always very reliable.”

  “That she was,” Jane murmured. “Did you believe the rumors?”

  “You mean that she had run off with Mr. Elliott? Of course not. Rosemary was the most honest, faithful woman I knew. She was married to her faith, not to a man already spoken for.”

  Jane said nothing to that. She hadn’t believed the rumors, either. She knew Rosemary, who wasn’t even on good terms with Mr. Elliott. They were cordial, but they weren’t friendly. Jane had witnessed them arguing several times over the years. If they were actually in love, the two of them were very good at hiding it.

  “Did...was it…” Lady Crawley bit her lip. She was trembling. “Was it bad? I haven’t seen the bodies.”

  “Neither have I.”

  One body was enough for Jane. She wasn’t about to go looking for the other corpses.

  Lady Crawley took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I don’t even know why I’m asking. Rosemary was a very careful person. She would help anyone she believed needed help, but she’d never put herself into harm’s way. She wouldn’t let just anyone get close enough to kill her.”

  “Maybe the killer was someone she knew,” Rachel suggested. “Or she was surprised.”

  Jane was inclined to agree.

  Lady Crawley pursed her lips. “I would go with that suggestion, Rachel, but then that brings up the concern that there could be a killer close by. They might come after us, and…” She shook her head with a shudder. “I don’t even want to consider it.”

  Jane didn’t want to consider it, either. Everyone in the house had been around a long time. Even the boot boy had been with the household for nearly ten years. It wasn’t always a harmonious house, but there weren’t any secrets. And as far as Jane knew, Rosemary didn’t have any enemies.

  Her knees were starting to hurt from kneeling on the hearth rug. She eased up and moved to sit on the couch opposite her mother, rubbing some feeling back into her knees.

  “Maybe she wasn’t the original victim,” Jane said. “Maybe she walked in on someone killing Mr. Elliott and she had to be quieted before she got away and told anyone.”

  Lady Crawley snorted.

  “Mr. Elliott didn’t have any enemies, either. He was a kind, thoughtful man. No one would ever say a bad word against him.”

  “It’s just a possibility, Mother.”

  Lady Crawley wrinkled her nose. “Well, I know for a fact that Mr. Elliott was not having an affair. He was devoted to his wife, and Rosemary would never break her vows by committing adultery.”

  “Sometimes we don’t really know people,” Rachel murmured.

  Jane flinched. She had been trying to talk calmly to her mother, pacify her somewhat, and not make a comment that would have her back up. Lady Crawley’s behavior had become unpredictable as she got older. It was better to keep things tame. Not make a suggestion which questioned her mother’s judgement.

  Lady Crawley’s expression changed and went blank. It was like watching her features become carved out of stone. With a slow, careful gesture, the Countess stood and folded her hands in front of her.

  “I think I’m going to retire,” she said stiffly. “I’m not feeling very well.”

  “Of course.” Jane jumped to her feet and curtsied. “Goodnight, Mother.”

  “Jane.”

  With barely a glance at Rachel, Lady Crawley walked out of the room. The door closed very firmly behind her. Jane turned to Rachel, who had also risen, and shook her head.

  “Seriously, Rachel? Did you have to say that?”

  “What?” Rachel protested. “It’s true, isn’t it? Sometimes we think we know people and really, we don’t. Mr. Elliott and Rosemary could have been having an affair.”

  “And then they wanted to show they disliked each other whenever they were around other people? That’s rather elaborate, isn’t it? Even for them.” Jane shook her head. “You knew Mr. Elliott, Rachel. So did I. That man adored his wife. Worshipped the ground she walked on. He never would have an affair with another woman, and certainly not Rosemary.”

  If they were having an affair, which Jane doubted, they certainly were able to put on a performance. Their interactions had always been decidedly frosty, and they made sure to stay on opposite sides of the room. Jane had never understood why, and the few times she had asked Rosemary about it, the maid had simply told her it was something she wouldn’t understand.

  “They could have been lovers before Mr. Elliott married,” Rachel suggested, settling back down on the chaise lounge. “They’re about the same age, aren’t they? I mean, weren’t they?”

  “They were, but I don’t think so.” Jane sat down again, smoothing out her skirts. “Rosemary came from Saint Cecilia’s nunnery and she’s never broken her vows.”

  Rachel’s eyes widened.

  “Rosemary was a nun? I never knew that.”

  “She and Megan were at the nunnery about the same time.”

  “Megan as in the midwife? The other dead body?”

  Jane nodded.

  Rachel gasped and leaned forward. “Do you think someone’s going around killing nuns?” she whispered loudly. “Maybe someone has a grudge against those who take vows.”

  “Rachel…”

  “We’ve got to think of the possibilities, and some people have some very strange motives. You’ve probably heard about them with regard to the Earl of Derby and the
drama surrounding his family a few years back.”

  Jane did know about it. Her nephew David had told her what had happened with the Earl and the murders on his estate, along with what his brother Peter did just to get out of a debt. Jane knew anything could happen, and anyone could take a life to get what they wanted. Still, that didn’t seem to be the case here, and killing nuns because of a hatred towards them did not sound right at all.