Death Comes to the Village
Page 27
“It was, but I’ve come to realize that Bookman hadn’t settled into civilian life very well at all. He was still haunted by what had happened on the continent, and was unable to control his violent impulses. It’s not uncommon for a soldier to find the transition difficult. Most of us come to terms with it eventually. I don’t think Bookman ever could.”
He sighed, “And of course, Mary’s ‘betrayal’ gave him the perfect outlet for that violence. He considered it justice for her behavior. When he found out she was planning to marry, his rage exploded. He must have confronted her, strangled her, and left her body in the tomb.”
“Which would explain what you thought you saw that night.”
“And why Bookman didn’t answer my calls for help after I’d fallen on the floor.” He grimaced. “I suppose there is some satisfaction in the fact that I am not going mad, even if it does come at some considerable expense.”
“If you hadn’t seen him, we might never have found out what happened to Mary.”
“That’s true. The worst of it was that Bookman seemed to think I’d side with him in the matter. I tried to tell him it wasn’t the same as killing in a battle, but he decided I was being equally disloyal and deserved to die, too.”
“Foley told me what happened.” She shivered. “How horrible for you.”
“In the end, it was quite simple. I couldn’t allow him to get away with murder in Kurland St. Mary.”
She nodded and glanced down at her folded hands. “Will he hang?”
“I should imagine so. I did write to the judge and plead for leniency and transportation instead. The mood in the country isn’t kind to returned soldiers at present, so I’m not sure if it will have any effect.”
“At least you tried.”
“Yes. And how have you been faring, Miss Harrington? Being shut up in a tomb with a corpse would be enough to shake even the strongest constitution.”
“I can’t say it was an experience I would care to repeat. I was so glad to be rescued I’ve tried to forget about it.”
He noted the dark shadows under her eyes. “I suspect you are having nightmares, though.”
“I am.” She shook her head. “I’ve lived such a quiet life that being hit on the head and tossed into a tomb are almost fantastical experiences. I find it hard to reconcile them with my current existence.”
“In my experience, Miss Harrington, the nightmares will eventually cease and you will be able to put the whole episode behind you.”
“I hope so.” She looked up, her brown eyes bright with determination. “But it did make me think about my future. When I was trapped in the vault I realized how petty my concerns were, and how I had to stop living my life for everyone else.”
“I’ve had many a similar revelation on the eve of a battle. It can be enlightening.” He smiled at her. “What do you plan to do? Escape to Egypt on a camel?”
“Oh, wouldn’t that be wonderful? I was thinking more about leaving the rectory for a visit to London.”
Foley entered with the tea tray, and Miss Harrington spent a moment pouring them both a cup. She brought his over to him.
“Why on earth would you want to visit London?”
He wondered if he sounded as petulant as he felt. She put his cup down by his elbow. “Because I haven’t been there since I was a child and I’ve always dreamed of having a Season there.”
“But why would you want to do that?”
“Because I want to find a husband and not always be the daughter at home.”
He considered that. “I still don’t understand why you need to go to London. There are plenty of men looking for wives around here.”
“And they all look at my sister Anna.”
“She is rather beautiful.”
“I know.” With a twitch of her skirts, she went to move away from him. He caught her hand.
“I haven’t thanked you for everything you’ve done for me yet.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake, it was nothing.” He was amused to see she was blushing.
“It was far more than that. In his way, Bookman was right. You forced me to open my eyes, and pay attention to what was going on around me.”
“More fool me.” She gently tried to ease out of his grip, but he held on. “I should have left you lying there in your bed in great state and saved myself an adventure.”
He smiled. “Come now, Miss Harrington. You must have enjoyed some of it. Deciphering clues, getting rid of my fiancée, matching your wits against a killer?”
“Some of it was quite interesting.” She paused. “Miss Chingford is no longer engaged to you?”
He nodded. She glared down rather pointedly at her hand. “Now will you let me go?”
He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you, Miss Harrington. Thank you for everything. Perhaps you might consider staying in Kurland St. Mary for my sake.”
She wrenched her hand free and stepped away from him. “What on earth do you mean?”
“I was rather hoping you’d take on the position of my secretary.”
“Your secretary? You—”
She twirled around, picked up her bonnet, and headed for the door. Foley, who was coming the other way with a plate of scones, just managed to step out of the way. He frowned at Robert.
“What did you say to set Miss Harrington all a flutter?”
“I have absolutely no idea.”
He picked up his tea and finished the cup before asking Foley to pour him another. He had a lot to do. A new valet to find, an estate manager and, judging from Miss Harrington’s reaction to his proposal, a new secretary, too.
His proposal . . .
What on earth had she been expecting him to say? He recalled the look of absolute horror on her face. For the first time in months, Robert found himself laughing out loud.
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
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Copyright © 2013 by Catherine Lloyd
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ISBN: 978-0-7582-8733-5
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-8734-2
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