John muttered, “Things are rapidly assuming alarming proportions.”
Royce glowered from under his brows, and he allowed sarcasm to color his tone. “What led you to that conclusion?”
With an answering level of sarcasm, John replied, “A small observation, old chap.”
Sara sniffed. “No sniping at each other. The servants are tittering about her being in the house without a chaperon. Something must be done to guard her reputation.”
“I doubt her uncle would allow me to offer for her even with that. I’m certain he wishes to malign her in every way possible.”
“She would be safe from her uncle and all his foul ways if John would allow me to travel to London and speak to Mother, or her true guardian, Uncle Phillip. Being with child isn’t a valid excuse to tie me by the heels.”
Royce bumped his closed fists together as he paced. “Put your mind to rest. I intend to travel to London. I’ll discover every scrap of information available about that damn chit. I told her I’d keep her safe.” He halted in his pacing and glanced at Sara. “I’ll speak to your uncle and pray nothing further happens to her before my return.”
He headed to the stables with a pounding ache in his head.
Hopkins called to Royce when he entered the stable. “Milord. I jus this minute stabled my horse.”
Royce winced. “Softly dear fellow. I really should abandon this heavy drinking habit I’ve acquired since Perry’s death.”
Hopkins frowned, but he lowered his voice. “Wallerin’ in self-pity never done a bloke no good. Ye needs a clear head for the problems looming afore ye.”
Royce smiled. “Indeed. I’m glad for your return, scolds and all.”
Hopkins grinned. “No need to throw the hammer at me. It’s happy I am to be back.” His expression sobered when he stepped toward Royce holding a package in his hand. “It be a hem set-out, truth be told.”
A hollow pit formed in Royce’s stomach. “I take it you’ve news for me.”
“You being home to a peg, no sense in me bammin’ ye. Course, or I’d still be beatin’ the bushes.”
“Give over, Hopkins.” Royce waited impatiently while his batman opened the package he held. Royce caught his breath on a gasp when he viewed Perry’s watch and fob lying in Hopkins’s palm. Stunned, he could hardly speak. He locked gazes with Hopkins and finally muttered, “Where?”
“Gregg. You remember him? He’s a lyin’ low for a spell in Bath. It bein’ a quiet, little back-water of a place, with a parcel of ‘ol biddies always maulin’ their inners with the waters, and those self-same ladies havin’ full purses, he’s interested. Well, he put me onto a bloke wot fences such items.”
A jolt of sadness pieced Royce and grief choked him when his fingers closed over the articles. The murdering dog shall pay. “Who?”
Hopkins shrugged. “He says a pretty widow lady as needs to sell her husband’s watch. Bein’ so young and lovely, he gives her more than it’s worth. I pays dearly for it.”
“You were able to trace the lovely widow, I take it?” Royce tensed in anticipation.
Hopkins stuck his hands in his pockets. “Tracked her—right to her grave. Seems she got soaked and took to her bed a dyin’ of lung fever.” Hopkins let his gaze drift back to Royce.
“By any chance, did you learn her name?”
Hopkins nodded. “Joliet Savoy.”
“What?” Royce couldn’t prevent his voice from shrilling in astonishment.
“I’m not tryin’ to gull ye. It’s wot they says.” Hopkins seemed well pleased with the extraordinary piece of news. “Thought that might set ye in a pucker.”
“Joliet Savoy,” Royce echoed. “Joliet Savoy was in league with the traitor.”
Hopkins gave a low whistle. “You mean all this time she was up to her eyebrows with traitors?”
Royce nodded. “So I understand. Too bad we can’t question her. Where did you come by this information?”
“I has me sources, Milord.” Hopkins sniffed. Before Royce could ask again, Hopkins said, “Don’t go rippin’ at me. I askt the doc’s housekeeper.”
“You did well. Tell John all you’ve told me,” Royce ordered before he explained, “I’m off to London. Things have gotten into a tangle here. First, Perry’s murder.” Fighting to keep his throat from completely closing, he continued, “Someone is attempting to harm Bethany. And there is a traitor running loose. This chaos cannot all be coincidental. But I’m in a quandary to connect Perry to all of this. And Bethany. Her uncle, I would suppose, is in league with the traitor.”
“You knows that for dead cert?” Hopkins squinted up at him.
“I have no actual proof, but he seems highly suspicious. If Bethany is involved in any way, her part ends when I return.” He would be relieved to have her under his protection as soon as possible.
“Wot hair-brained scheme ye planning?” Hopkins cast a glare at Royce.
Royce stepped further into the stable, his expression grim. “I intend to marry the lady—keep her out of trouble from now on. I lost Perry, but I have no intentions of losing her.” He shook his head and set about saddling his mount. “I’m not best pleased with the situation in which I find myself, but I’ll have her free from her uncle’s grip—and in my bed,” he finished.
Hopkins shouldered him out of the way. “That a done do, milord. Allow me,” he said with his head thrown back while he grabbed the gear into his capable hands.
Royce leaned against the stall, thinking out loud. “Perhaps Arthur didn’t murder Perry,” he conceded. “I want to go after him. I want to bring the killer down and I want the killer to be Arthur.” With that admission, he tightened his lips. “I can’t see my way clear in this yet.”
Hopkins grunted in agreement.
“Have you discovered anything about Laurent Harcourt?” Royce glanced at Hopkins.
“He had rooms at the Red Rooster Inn. No visitors. Kept to hisself mostly.”
Royce raised his brows. “No family? No mention of his sister?”
“Nary a word.”
“That’s strange. I was positive I heard mention of a sister.”
“If ye ask me, the whole business is strange. Makes no sense.”
“He still stands high in my list of suspects for a traitor.”
“Jus’ because ye don’t care for the bloke?”
Royce grinned. “Enough reason, but he’s wicked and dangerous with a blade as well.”
“But, milord.”
Royce held up his hand. “I discovered a little about him as well. When he’s in London, seems he runs with a fast set, or so I’m told—younger sons, not in the military or with any other gainful employment. Any one of ‘em could be mixed up in this dirty business.”
“He be a younger son of the gentry?”
“Not that I’m aware of, but he runs with ‘em. The entire bunch, always ripe for any mischief with no one to say them nay, they always lurk in the background of trouble. The Foreign Office has so many incompetent friends of Prinny’s fobbed off on them, it’s a wonder the country doesn’t literally collapse under the weight of such meddling.”
“I sees wot ye mean.” Hopkins squinted over at Royce. “I’ll keep me cheaters open on all suits.”
Royce grimaced and mounted his steed. “Take care of things here. I’ll only be gone a few days at best.”
The pain of Perry’s loss had settled into fierce anger and most of his fury centered on Laurent, or perhaps Arthur. Where had Laurent been when someone dumped an unconscious Bethany into the water, or for that matter, where had Arthur been? What connection could there be between Perry, Bethany, and treason, or to Laurent? The connection to Arthur Littleton was plain to see, but the connection to treason seemed remote. More questions than answers. ‘Twas unfortunate Joliet Sav
oy died before she could be questioned. A few subtle probes leveled at his old friends in the Horse Guards might prove helpful.
Royce rode at a steady pace, anxious to reach London. He balled his fists and his stomach cramped at the mere thought of Bethany in danger. The sooner he could take her under his care, the better.
When he arrived in town, he tightened his lips. This may take a few days. Best to start immediately. Weary from a hellish day of seeking answers, Royce collapsed in a chair before the hearth in his London house.
Sara had the right of it about Bethany’s guardian. He couldn’t suppress a grin. He withdrew a folded sheet of paper, and with a great deal of satisfaction, read the writing down to the signature.
As the duly appointed guardian to my sister’s child, Bethany Anne Littleton by my brother-in-law, Henry Littleton, I hereby grant permission for Royce Carrington, Lord Rivton to marry my ward.
Signed, Phillip Clarke.
Leaning back in his chair, Royce could imagine Bethany sitting beside the fireplace with a volume in hand, comfortable and warm. He could picture her reading with the velvet drapes drawn against the night, a most pleasing aspect of his upcoming nuptials.
A sense of unease washed over him. He ignored the disquiet, relying on Hopkins to watch over her until he could confront Arthur Littleton and claim her as his own. With a deeply exhaled breath, he decided to find his bed. Another grueling day lay before him on the morrow.
Royce intended to travel to Bath and ask the doctor how Joliet Savoy managed to sell Perry’s possessions from the grave. Perhaps he could find a few answers. A ray of hope bloomed in his chest while he made his way up the stairs.
Chapter 20
Late the next day, Royce strode into the doctor’s place. After the greeting and introductions, Royce came directly to the point. “I don’t want to waste your valuable time. I need information about one of your deceased patients. Her name was Joliet Savoy. I believe she died some weeks ago.”
“Yes. That is so. I believe she passed on a Thursday three weeks hence.”
If he had the date correct, that was a week before Perry’s murder. So she sold his watch and fob from the grave. “You’re certain of the date?”
“Yes. The night she died, her friend kept watch. A pretty little thing she was, Mrs. Fronsworth. She devoted herself to nursing my patient until the end.” He sighed. “I appreciated her help. She lives down in Billingsham. I kept track. I may call on her for help from time to time.”
“Excellent. I assume you have her direction.” A hint of anticipation tightened Royce’s nerves. At long last, he might be close to an answer.
“Certainly. Why do you want it?”
“As the Lord Lieutenant of the county, I have a few questions for her about her friendship with the deceased.”
“I have it here somewhere.” The doctor fumbled in a draw and came up with the address in Billingsham and copied it for Royce. “Good journey. I hope you find her a help.”
Royce slipped the set of directions into his pocket and with a nod of appreciation, he strode out the door. Gratified by the hint of another clue, he mounted and rode for home. The new information must wait until he had Bethany married and safe in his charge.
A hot breath of wind rustled the branches over the narrow path where Bethany stood. She doubled over again and wished she could die while she heaved into the thick bushes beside the track. For the last few mornings, nausea twisted her insides until she relieved her stomach of its content. What could possibly be wrong? So gripped by her illness, she was hardly aware of the drum of hooves pounding the dirt behind her.
“What the blazes?” Royce exclaimed. His stallion danced around when the harsh bit jabbed its tender mouth. He dismounted in one fluid motion and knelt beside her.
“Go away,” she wailed, still holding her stomach, shoulders slumped and shaking from weakness. Why was he the one to discover her like this?
“Are you daft? What are you doing out here and ill along with it?” he snarled, emitting an oath under his breath. “You were safe until you abandoned my home. Now, you’ve set yourself up as a target again.”
Hot tears filled her eyes and resentment crawled through her. A target indeed, and she’d learned nothing from her efforts. How else could she discover the identity of the culprit? She managed to invest a great deal of sarcasm into her words. “Just so. I couldn’t stay in your home forever. I had no choice. If Uncle Arthur discovered where I passed the night, he would have an apoplexy, and I would be in serious straits.”
“My dear, Bethany, what do you call this? I dare say you are in deep difficulties now.” He swept her up into his arms.
She couldn’t keep the trill of alarm from rising. “What are you doing?”
“I’m taking you back to the hall.”
His firmed jaw and the exasperation in his tone warned her a fight against him would be useless. Nevertheless, she twisted in his embrace and cried, “Put me down.”
She found being held against him intensely disturbing. When his breath touched the side of her face and feathered against her throat, she found the intimate embrace overwhelming. With a pounding heart and fluttering stomach, she slipped an arm around his shoulders. “Put me down.”
His voice chilled while he berated her. “Don’t take that tone with me, young lady. I’m furious with you. You walked straight back into the arms of danger when I told you I’d keep you safe. What did you expect to happen to you over at the manor?”
Fighting against the longing to remain in his arms and total exhaustion, she lowered her voice. “I don’t know. Regardless, I couldn’t remain under your roof indefinitely.”
He stared directly into her eyes with a blaze in his own. “Your logic is astounding. Bird-witted, twisted thinking, and you mouth such dribble. You should have known I’d offer for you. As my wife, it shall be your duty to abide with me.”
Surprised, she stiffened before spouting, “You never mentioned marriage before. You’ve held me in contempt, and you seem suspicious of me for some unknown reason. How was I to know? Why now?”
“You should have known I would correct my mistake. Although Mrs. Tackler is trustworthy and was there to chaperon, I should never have taken you to the hall. A couple of tittering maids couldn’t resist the temptation to spread the tale. The entire village is alight with speculations and finger pointing. Your reputation is in tatters. It’s my duty to restore your good name.”
Although she remained in his arms, she pushed back and sucked in a breath. “And that’s the reason you offered to marry me—duty?”
The light of battle entered his eyes again. “It’s a perfectly legitimate reason. And I want you safe and under my eye. I won’t allow another man to claim you, so don’t think it.”
Her spirit sank. She was a mistake he wished to correct. What a lowering reflection.
His voice lowered to a coaxing level. “I want you in my bed, to touch you, and to hold you in the night. I’ve wanted you from the first moment I met you. You want me too.”
She drew a shuddering breath. She was powerless to resist him while he held her and he knew it. After studying Royce for a long minute, she said, “I still must have my uncle’s permission to marry.”
“No, you need your guardian’s permission. I obtained the necessary documents from you true guardian, Phillip Clarke. He’s your mother’s brother.” Royce took two long strides toward his mount.
“My stomach. Leave me here until it settles.” In spite of her words, she gripped his shoulders even tighter.
“You seriously expect me to abandon you here beside the path, and you so weak you can hardly stand alone?” He glared at her, his tone suggesting she’d lost her mind. Mounting with her in his arms, he urged his horse into a gentle walk. His voice seemed to steady at a lower pitch. “When did this malaise st
rike you?”
She considered his question and let out a small gasp. “The evening I returned to the manor.” Allowing her head to droop onto his shoulder, she gave up the struggle against his stronger will.
“Have you considered you might have been poisoned?”
Thankfully, the swaying of the horse’s gait didn’t add to her misery. “Not until you mentioned the possibility.” She shivered. “I’m afraid.”
“No need. I’m here, but someone is certainly out to silence you for a purpose we need to discover. The perpetrator of Perry’s murder and the attempts on your life must be uncovered. Leave it in my hands, least you succumb to the villain as well.” His voice firmed and he delivered an edict, “You are not returning to that house.”
While he carried her, he reflected on his handling of the situation and his own loss of control. Did he have regrets? Oh, he had regrets, deep regrets at the way he had dealt with her illness, even at the way he’d offered marriage. He’d made a mistake by letting his anger at the situation spin out of control.
The necessity of holding his horse to a fast walk for Bethany’s sake allowed a sensation of satisfaction to engulf him. This was where she belonged. She trembled still, and his lips tightened. The matter was too important to allow her to reject him, however much he might deserve her censure. He would have none of it. Pulling her closer, he brushed his lips against her hair, dismounted, and carried her into the hall where his cousin stood in the doorway.
“This is becoming a disturbing habit,” John said and followed Royce up the stairs.
A Lady's Vanishing Choices Page 16