Flame of Fury

by Sharon Green

  The big man turned away in a palpable effort to control his pain, and Mrs. Raymond hurried over to put a commiserating hand on his arm. Both of them had apparently forgotten Rianne was there, so she turned and went to a chair in the sitting room. She had a lot to think about, but couldn't quite decide where to start.

  From what she'd heard, her stepfather had been even worse than she'd thought. He'd associated with people who killed and drove innocent men to suicide, and all the while he'd pretended to be upright and moral. He'd always tried to set such a fine example -

  But no, that wasn't right. The time so long ago … he'd known about it … had even been made to watch…

  She shook her head hard, chasing away those nightmare memories. She always tried not to think about that, but she'd been badly disturbed by the sight of the second dead body in as many days. She drew her gloves off and pulled a square of linen from her reticule, using it to dry the moisture on her forehead. Other things to think about…

  Yes, other things. Like the fact that her husband hadn't been a friend of her stepfather's after all. He'd been following a plan to trap Robert Harding into giving him information, and marrying her had only been a part of that plan. That had to be what Mrs. Raymond had been talking about, the freedom that would soon come with the end of Machlin's plan. Rianne was tempted to feet hurt to know that she didn't mean anything to him after all, but she was used to being disregarded in favor of other things…

  Disregarded… Her mother had been so desperate to rejoin her dead husband, she'd disregarded the presence of a living daughter. Robert Harding, when he hadn't been after her to marry, had forgotten about her for days and weeks on end. The servants, beyond tending to her basic needs, usually pretended she wasn't there even when she walked into a room where some of them happened to be.

  The years had taught the servants that Mr. Harding, their actual employer, had no objections to such behavior on their part. Even her suitors, those men who had been so eager for her attention… How many times had the whole group of them gotten into a polite argument about something they considered important, and forgotten all about her? Then one or another of them would remember why they were supposedly there, come charging after her, and the others would follow. All of them had their reasons for disregarding her at one time or another, undoubtedly real and solid reasons that could easily be explained.

  But Bryan Machlin's reason was a good deal more important than most of the others had been. Someone had caused his brother's death, and he was searching for that someone. In his place she would have done the same, to take the life of anyone who brought harm to Angus or Cam.

  As had been done to that man so many years ago. Suddenly, memories Rianne fought a constant battle to suppress rose to the surface once again. She sat motionless in the chair, fear tingling along her arms and legs, her inner sight forced back to view that horrible incident once again. She'd witnessed it accidentally, and had been too young to hide her presence…

  "Stop it, just stop it!" she whispered to herself, fighting the rising illness. "You don't want to remember that, so stop doing it!"

  A thing which had always been easier said than done. And those memories had never been so strongly persistent, refusing to be chased away. But why now, after all this time? Rianne didn't know, any more than she knew how to stop it. But she knew she must stop it, or she would be very sick. That was a certainty, and an imminent one.

  The chair was her only solid anchor to normality in a sea of storming madness. Rianne clung to it with both hands, eyes closed as she searched for the reason behind the hell she was being put through. And there was a reason, she knew that, but when the first hint of it came to her she very nearly passed out. No, not that, please, there has to be another way…!

  "It's all right, just get a grip on yourself, you don't have to look at that again." The deep voice came from somewhere far off, sounding as though it had repeated the same words over and over. Rianne became aware of the arm around her shoulders, and opened her eyes to see Bryan Machlin crouched beside her.

  "You really shouldn't have looked in the first place," he said, those cold gray eyes more concerned than accusing. "Are you still trying to prove how tough you are?"

  "If I were, it would be clear I didn't succeed," she answered with as much of a smile as she could manage. "You're sure he was killed by the same man responsible for your brother's death?"

  "So you heard that," he said, taking his arm back as the expression in his eyes changed. "Yes, I'm absolutely sure it was the same man and I'll question the staff, but I don't expect to learn anything. The man I'm after is too careful to let himself be seen accidentally."

  "But hasn't always been," Rianne muttered, feeling the sweat start again. Bryan Machlin frowned at that, but before he could question her Mrs. Raymond rejoined them.

  "I'm certain you were right, Bryan," she said, coming out of the servant's room. "The valet said this servant's room hasn't been occupied in years, but the last thing it looks is unused. The bed sheet isn't clean and unused, the washbasin isn't quite spotless, and the pitcher still had a few drops of water in it. Someone slept in that room for at least one night, and I'll wager it wasn't the first time."

  "But it was definitely the last," he said, then turned those eyes on Rianne again. "What did you mean a moment ago? That the man hasn't always been too careful to let himself be seen? You don't mean - "

  "That I saw him?" Rianne finished when he didn't. "Yes, I'm afraid that's exactly what I mean. I don't know his name, but I'll never forget his face. Not if I live to be a thousand."

  The last of her words weren't strong enough even to be a whisper, but Bryan Machlin still heard them. His arms circled her and he held her to him, one hand patting her back while he made nonsense sounds of comfort. It would have been nice if he'd done that for a reason other than casual concern, but Rianne wasn't about to lie to herself. He was a decent man and therefore concerned, but that's all there was to it.

  "It - isn't easy for me to talk about it, but it's more than time I did," Rianne said after another moment. "I've always tried to forget - "

  "No, wait," the big man said, leaning back to touch her hair. "Why are you doing this? Why are you suddenly willing to tell me what you know?"

  "You saved my life yesterday," Rianne answered simply, giving him the reason that had come to her. "Mine and Angus's and probably even Cam's, and I said not a single word in thanks. That wasn't fair or decent, and I like to think I'm both. The best way to prove that is to give you what help I can."

  "I see," he answered, that strange expression in his eyes again. Almost as if he were disappointed… "Well, I appreciate the effort, and I gratefully accept. Truthfully, I'm too desperate to do anything else. Let's go back to my house, and we can - "

  "Bryan, wait a minute," Mrs. Raymond interrupted again. "Let's find someplace in this house to sit and talk. I agree we need to hear Mrs. Machlin's story, but there's something else we should do before leaving. You said Harding has a study with a strongbox?"

  "Of course! " the big man said, straightening out of his crouch. "There could be something in it to give us a clue. I wonder where Harding's keys are."

  "You don't need them," Rianne said, rising from the chair. That woman was really beginning to annoy her. "Mrs. Raymond was quite clever to remember about the strongbox, but I happen to know where my stepfather keeps his spare key. It's right there in the study."

  "Then let's go," Machlin said, not quite rubbing his hands. "And we'll need a private place to talk, where there's very little chance of our being overheard. There's always the possibility that one of the staff has another employer as well."

  "I know just the place," Rianne said, ready to lead the way out of the room. "And I could use a cup of tea…"

  Bryan took a last look around the study he'd visited only once before, but there was nothing new to be seen. And then it was Rianne he looked at, the woman who was supposed to be his wife. He couldn't get over how much she'd chang
ed, and literally overnight. When she spoke to him, it was as though she spoke to another human being…

  But there was a reason for that, and in fact two reasons. The first reason she'd mentioned in Harding's sitting room, when Sarah had excused herself for a moment and they were waiting for her to come back. She'd looked at him with those beautiful green eyes, and then she'd gently touched his arm.

  "I was so sorry to hear you'd lost a brother," she'd said, her entire manner one of compassion. "I know how I would feel if - Were the two of you close?"

  "Yes, it so happens we were," Bryan told her, encouraged to talk about his loss to someone who would understand. "My oldest brother Richard is ten years my senior, and my next brother, Andrew, is only two years younger than Richard. Ross was two years my junior, and we were inseparable as children. He once even took the blame for something I did, because I'd already gotten into trouble the week before. He said I could help him out someday, when we were both grown up and the trouble - and punishments - were worse. I promised him I would do exactly that, but he never gave me the chance. I think he was still trying to keep me out of trouble."

  Bryan had had to turn away from her then, memories of Ross rising up to bring tears to his eyes. His brothers had been more than willing to join him on his hunt for the man who had caused Ross's death, but their father had asked them to leave it to Bryan. The grand and wonderful old man had known all about what had been between Ross and Bryan, and knew as well that his two older sons would be more of a burden to Bryan than help. They hadn't lived the hard and dangerous life he had, nor were they as ruthlessly dedicated.

  "Please try to remember that there's still hope of catching the man," Rianne had said gently, her hand now on his arm from behind. "What you've been doing is quite marvelous, Mr. Machlin, and I admire you for acting just as I would have. When you told me that honorable acts could appear dishonorable before all the facts were known, you were absolutely right."

  Bryan had turned to her with the intention of pointing out that that wasn't all he'd said, but Sarah had chosen that minute to return from refreshing herself. As soon as she appeared, Rianne began to lead them to Harding's study, and the moment for intimate discussions was gone. The second point, he'd realized after thinking about it, was that she was grateful for his having saved her life after all. She'd said as much, in so many words, trying to be as fair as she wanted others to be. She was an exceptional, fantastically wonderful woman - but was no closer to being his than she'd been before. She'd joined him in his quest rather than in his life, and the difference was downright painful.

  "There's definitely something wrong here," she mused, staring at a sideboard without being aware of his own stare. "The carvings, and that arrangement of prettily polished stones… They weren't here when this study was my father's, or even for years afterward. There was silver and crystal on display, not cheap little knickknacks. I wonder that I didn't notice when it was changed."

  "It was probably done so slowly that no one noticed," Bryan said. "With the estate income Harding had to spend, no one would expect him to have to sell off valuables to add to it. Did you find anything in the desk, Sarah?"

  "Nothing more than casual correspondence," she answered, looking up from a drawer. "There's one letter from a woman begging him to answer her, but it's dated almost a year ago. I think it's here as a cruel keepsake."

  "I'm not surprised," Bryan said. "At the ball I noticed he tended to strut and preen in front of the women, obviously considering himself irresistible to them. It was probably one of his major weaknesses as far as spending money went."

  "Did you find anything of interest in the strongbox?" she asked, closing the drawer she'd been examining. "This desk doesn't even have his accounts ledger."

  "The most interesting thing about his strongbox is what wasn't in it," Bryan said, glancing at the small pile of papers he'd gone through. "His copy of the marriage agreement is here, but not our private agreement. The only other things were two rather lengthy property lists and his will."

  "His will?" Rianne echoed while Sarah exclaimed in surprise. "Let me see it."

  Since Harding's property had nothing to do with the Lockwood estate, Bryan had no idea why she would want to. But he separated the will from the other papers, then handed it to her. She unfolded the document and began to read through it, and after a long moment made a sound of satisfaction.

  "Yes, I thought there might be something like this in here," she said. "This is only a copy of his will, the original undoubtedly being on file with his London bankers. I know you wanted a name, but I suppose four are better than none."

  He frowned as he quickly took the document back, and she was absolutely right. Three men were listed in the will as heirs, all of them to share equally in the estate, and the executor was named as well.

  "My stepfather had no family of his own, as he kept reminding me over the years," the girl said. "Most of the funds he got were for maintaining this house for me, but he had a small private income of his own. He left that income to 'friends,' the will said, but I've never heard of any of them. And the income may not come to much, but that agreement you made with him - am I wrong in believing the amount was substantial? If that was added in, his estate would certainly be worth inheriting."

  "Which means there's an excellent chance we now know where the agreement is," Bryan said with a slow nod. "On its way to the man in charge of settling the estate. It looks like someone is determined to make sure Harding is worth more dead than alive. Do you at least recognize the name of the executor?"

  Rianne shrugged and shook her head, which didn't tell Bryan anything of value. Her being unfamiliar with all four men could mean all of them were involved with his quarry, or that none of them were. Direct investigation would be necessary to find out which it was.

  "Does the fact that the agreement is gone mean they'll actually try taking you to court?" Sarah asked. "But that's wonderful! As soon as we see which of the three heirs is pressing the hardest, we'll know who the guilty one is."

  "It might not be any of the heirs, just someone behind one of them," Bryan pointed out. "Whoever this executor is, he's the one who'll be doing the pressing, and even he might not know what's going on. Our quarry loves to stand in the shadows while puppets do his work for him… Let's go somewhere else. This room is beginning to depress me."

  Bryan copied down the names and addresses of the three heirs and the executor, and then they returned everything to where it belonged. As soon as that was done Rianne took up the lead again, guiding them to a side hall where she yanked on a bell pull. Almost instantly a houseman appeared, and it seemed very much as though he'd run.

  "Set up a table for three on the second verandah, right near the fountain," the girl told the houseman without actually looking at him. "Tea and small cakes, and as quickly as possible, please."

  "Ma'am," the man acknowledged with a stiff bow, and then he disappeared. He was back almost immediately with two others like himself, and all three of them went into a room just off the hall.

  "We might as well wait outside for them to bring the table and chairs," the girl said casually as she walked to the door and opened it. "It's such a lovely day."

  Bryan let the two women precede him, and when he stepped outside he had to pause for a moment. He hadn't seen this part of the house before, and it was unexpectedly lovely. Three wide terraces, one beyond the other, stretched down and away from the house toward a broad lawn of very green grass. The terraces seemed to be of baked and brightly colored tile, and the center one held a large fountain in its middle. The sides of the terraces were guarded by tall shade trees, leaving only the center of each in bright sunlight.

  "Put the table in the shade," Rianne directed, and Bryan stepped aside to let two of the housemen by with their round burden. The third carried a small silk-seated chair, and followed those with the table. That third one stayed to position the table exactly where Rianne wanted it, while the other two rushed inside and returned wi
th two more chairs. By then two housegirls appeared with trays, and it wasn't long before all three of them were seated with refreshments at hand. Rianne had to dismiss the five servants, or they would have stayed and hovered.

  "I'm impressed," Bryan said as soon as the five had gone back inside. "I thought my staff was efficient and eager, but these people have them beat."

  "Not really," the girl answered, giving most of her attention to pouring tea for them. "They're all terrified, and this is probably the only thing they can think of to do."

  "I don't understand," Sarah said with a frown. "What are they terrified of? They can't think they'll be accused of Harding's murder?"

  "They probably don't even know yet that he was murdered," the girl responded, handing a cup to Sarah. "What they're upset about is the very fact of my stepfather's death. He was to have life tenancy of this house after my marriage, with sufficient funds to keep it running smoothly. Now that he's gone it reverts immediately to being part of my inheritance, so they're trying to show what good workers they are. They're too comfortable here to want to go looking for other positions."

  "But that still doesn't make any sense," Sarah protested as Bryan was given a cup. "If you grew up in this house you already know all about them, so why would they put on a show? Certainly not for our benefit."

  "I think that's exactly what that was," Bryan said when all the girl did was smile faintly in response to the objection. "A show put on for our benefit. Or mine. If the staff of this house knew Harding would be its master for the rest of his life, they'd make no effort to go out of their way for a girl their master didn't get along with and who would never have any say over them. This eager service and all that heartfelt sympathy earlier - it was probably meant to show me that anything my new wife said against them was pure vindictiveness and lies."

  "That would cover more than just not going out of their way, I think," Sarah said with a different sort of frown. "Were they actually cruel to you, Mrs. Machlin? All of them?"