Redeeming the Earl

by Jenn Langston

  “I’ve been trying. I don’t mean to be selfish, but this isn’t easy.”

  “I have an idea. I can’t promise you amusing conversation, but if you allow me to grab my . . . shawl, I’ll join you for a stroll,” Rebecca responded, unable to ignore her friend’s plea.

  In the cold weather, Rebecca needed more than just a shawl, but she definitely required an excuse to get away before forcing herself to endure the full brunt of Gloria’s company. The woman could be trying and with her attitude toward Anna’s death, Rebecca had to take a few minutes to maintain her calm.

  “Perfect.” The smile Gloria shot her appeared smug. As if she knew Rebecca would relent.

  Before opening her mouth to take her offer back, the look disappeared. Perhaps Rebecca had only imagined it. Recently it had been very easy to find threats where none existed.

  After making her way up the stairs, Rebecca entered Charles’s bedchamber. He’d been kind enough to move all her belongings in with him. A glance at the adjoining door brought a chill to Rebecca.

  A wave of nausea hit her, making her fall to the ground. She’d never be able to remove the image of her friend’s painful death from her mind. Breathing deeply through her mouth, she tried to hold herself together. She closed her eyes and rested her head on the ground to allow the heat burning her from the inside to cool down.

  When the sensation finally passed, she opened her eyes, but remained in her position. She didn’t want the nausea to return, and couldn’t bring herself to get up just yet.

  Taking a deep breath, she began to rise when the sight of a blue ribbon, mostly hidden by the bed curtains, had her changing direction to crawl over to it. Gently, she pulled on the ribbon, and out came a necklace. Anna’s necklace.

  Rebecca’s heart stopped beating as she stared at her friend’s most prized possession. Why would it be in Charles’s bedchamber? She didn’t want to explore the reasons, but they came regardless.

  Anna could have come in to confront Charles about his wives, which resulted in a fight. Images of her maid rushing back to the door while Charles followed to kill her invaded Rebecca’s mind.

  Pressing her hands over her ears, Rebecca tried to make it stop. But it only continued. Diana, Lorraine, and even Allison suffered greatly. Could it have been at her husband’s hands as well? Now was he only waiting until Rebecca had advanced far enough in her pregnancy for her death to appear from complications like the others?

  She couldn’t think about this anymore. The magistrate was in Charles’s study right now. She wondered how her husband would explain himself with this new piece of evidence.

  Bolstered by her new purpose, Rebecca clutched the necklace in her hand and made her way to seal Charles’s fate. A nagging part of her demanded she stop, that he could never do such a thing, but she squashed it. Her love for him didn’t matter. The truth would come out today.

  Raising her hand to push open the study door, she halted at the magistrate’s voice.

  “What did you say?” the man asked.

  “I killed them,” Charles said clearly. “I killed them all.”

  She felt as though her stomach had dropped. She couldn’t breathe as she stood there staring at the door. Her suspicions were nothing compared to the truth of his own mouth. Silent tears streamed down her face.

  “You don’t know how many years I’ve waited to hear those words from you, but don’t say something like that. How can I help you if you go around . . .”

  Rebecca stepped away from the door, unable to listen to any more. The magistrate sided with Charles. Who could help her now? Gloria would also defer to Charles, and Madam Hershal held no power to protect her.

  Mrs. Harrow’s plea to go with her filled Rebecca’s mind. She would escape. She would live. She would never be the same again.

  “But it’s the truth,” Charles insisted. “The only common factor with all of them is me. Had I not married them, no doubt they would all be living full lives right now. Perhaps with many children.”

  The thought made him ill. Although his guilt hadn’t been new, the knowledge that nature hadn’t made the decision gave a whole new meaning to his fault.

  “Quit your wallowing. The only good you are doing here is allowing the real murderer to get a chance at your new countess,” the magistrate practically growled.

  Unlike anything else the man had tried, the threat to Rebecca forced him to sit upright in his chair and focus. He could make peace with himself later. Right now, they had work to do.

  “How do you know it wasn’t me?”

  The man grinned, a sight Charles never expected to see from his enemy of many years. “From a very unlikely source.”

  “Go on.”

  “I spoke with Paul, the footman who was courting the maid, and he said Anna knew who had poisoned the countess and murdered the others. She didn’t tell him who she suspected since they’d quarreled once on that before. She wanted to find solid proof first.”

  “How does this absolve me?”

  The magistrate cleared his voice and shifted his eyes. “Well, since the countess was poisoned, Paul had someone trail you. The day of Anna’s death, you hadn’t even ventured upstairs.”

  “After all this time, I suppose it’s nice to finally have you believe me.” Charles rubbed his fingers along his chin. “Does this mean there is proof in the countess’s chambers?”

  The man let out a long sigh and shook his head. “Not that we could find. Nothing showed up, except an old diary that doesn’t paint a very nice picture of you. Had it not been for Paul, I would have thought I found my proof in that.”

  Curious about the diary, Charles opened his mouth to speak, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

  When Madam Hershal stuck her head in, Charles shot to his feet, reading her concern. “Please come in. What has happened?”

  “Lady Shalley and I were waiting in the drawing room for the countess to return from retrieving her shawl, but she hasn’t come back. I checked her bedchamber, and it is empty.”

  Charles felt the color drain from his face as ice took its place over his body. Without wasting a second, he flew from the room and bolted up the stairs to his bedchamber. It was empty. So was Rebecca’s.

  In his haste to check back downstairs, he nearly plowed into the magistrate. At this moment, Charles couldn’t have picked a better person to have with him.

  “Ask around. I’ll check downstairs,” Charles ordered.

  “Done,” the magistrate agreed as he followed on Charles’s heels down the stairs.

  The drawing room was empty, so Charles rushed to the garden. Had someone taken her? On his way, he prayed harder than ever before. He had to hold onto hope that she had not been forced from the property. After all, that would be a large break in the killer’s usual proceedings.

  Outside, his heart sank to see a cloaked figure face down on the ground with a shovel nearby. Panic propelled him the few feet. The figure was a man. Reaching out, Charles turned the body over. It was Paul. Although unconscious, he appeared to be breathing.

  “Marlowe,” Charles bellowed, catching the man’s form through the foliage. “Did you see the countess? Where did she go?”

  “I haven’t seen her, my lord.”

  Charles stood. “Tend to Paul.”

  Staring off down the main path, he glanced around for evidence of her while he called her name. Had she been the one to attack Paul? Or had it been someone else?

  The thoughts and the uncertainty made his chest hurt and his eyes burn. He’d never been so afraid in his life. He felt as though his heart was ripping from his chest, and he could do nothing about it. But he wouldn’t give up.

  Reaching the end of the path, he realized his error. The fallen tree blocked too much of the garden. He’d run out of places to go. Falling t
o his knees, he screamed out in frustration. What could they do now?

  After pulling himself back together, he ran back to the manor. Act, don’t feel, he reminded himself. After all, someone had to have seen her. She couldn’t have disappeared with no witnesses. The man he met on his way back looked at him with questions in his eyes, but Charles only shook his head. There were no answers.

  Once inside, he numbly followed his butler to the drawing room. He didn’t look at the faces around him. He couldn’t handle their pity or their pain right now. Instead, he continued until he collapsed in a chair and waited for the magistrate to arrive.

  The man hustled in not long after. “My lord, the countess was seen by at least three staff members on her way out.”

  Charles met the man’s eyes. “And?”

  “She appeared upset and didn’t respond to anyone’s calls. Without stopping to retrieve a coat or any belongings, she walked from the manor.”

  “Had anyone been with her? Or followed?”

  The man shook his head.

  “Then what upset her?” Charles demanded. “Did anyone talk to her, or had she received a missive or anything?”

  “Besides Lady Shalley and Madam Hershal, no one spoke to her, and, to my knowledge, no missive came through the hands of any of the staff.”

  Gripping the arms of the chair, Charles clenched his teeth. There had to be something. Rebecca simply didn’t run off for no reason.

  “Ask the rest of the staff.” Charles’s eyes sought out Madam Hershal. “What exactly happened in the drawing room?”

  “Rebecca agreed to accompany Gloria for a stroll, and told us to wait while she collected her shawl.”

  “A shawl in weather like this? That was just an excuse to get away. What happened before that?”

  Madam Hershal looked uncomfortable. Clearly she wanted to say something more, but held himself back. However, this wasn’t the time to spare any feelings.

  “Say it.”

  “The baroness wasn’t pleased about our time of mourning. I thought Rebecca simply needed time to sort herself after the woman’s attitude, not to run away.”

  That didn’t give them much to work with. At this rate, they would never find Rebecca. The thought made his body balk at the emotionless façade. But he took a deep breath to combat it. He needed to keep his wits about him.

  “And where is the baroness now?”

  “When Rebecca didn’t return, she mumbled something about being slighted, and stomped out of the room. I haven’t seen her since.”

  Charles turned toward a footman standing in the corner. “Go fetch her.”

  Now the only witness left was unconscious. Charles hoped Paul had seen something before he was hit over the head.

  “Is there anything you can do for Paul?” he asked Madam Hershal.

  She nodded, bowed, and then left the room, leaving Charles to his thoughts. He didn’t want them. He wanted action. Which was something he wouldn’t get until Paul awoke. If he ever did.

  Rebecca opened her eyes and winced as searing pain shot through her head. The last thing she remembered was walking into the house with Ms. Harrow. Then nothing.

  Forcing her eyelids open, she tried to move her arms to clear away the sleep, but they wouldn’t move. Glancing down, she sucked in a breath. She’d been tied to a chair. Fear raced through her. How could she have been so stupid as to trust Mrs. Harrow?

  The room, like the drawing room, appeared to be lavishly decorated. Judging by the size, she imagined it to be the master’s chamber. Unfortunately, no useful implements were anywhere within her reach.

  Hearing footsteps, she glared at the doorway, hating the woman who’d done this to her. When the door opened, Rebecca gasped as relief flooded her. Gloria. She’d come to help.

  “I see you are finally waking up. You’ve been out for almost an hour, and I hardly hit you that hard. Not like Paul.”

  “What are you talking about?” Rebecca felt as though her mind was jumbled. Gloria’s words didn’t make sense.

  “Don’t worry about it.” Gloria crossed the room and took a seat by the window. “You’ve really made this difficult for me.”

  “Where’s Trevor?” Rebecca asked, her fear for the boy acute.

  Gloria snorted. “I locked the little brat up in his room. He won’t bother us.”

  “And his mother? Where is she?”

  The woman’s gaze slowly slid to Rebecca. “You are asking a lot of questions. Why do you care so much about them?”

  Something cold and calculating shone in Gloria’s eyes. How could Rebecca have never noticed it before? The woman whom she had welcomed as a friend and spent many months with didn’t exist in the person before her.

  Rebecca’s stomach rolled, and she had to breathe deeply to control the desire to retch. Not only had she placed her trust in the wrong person, but she had failed to trust Charles. Her heart had been right all along, and she’d ignored it.

  “What do you intend to do with us?”

  “Honestly, I don’t know yet. You really ruined everything this time. Although irritating, your other escapes from death were manageable, but this . . . How can I recover?”

  “Why have you been trying to kill me?” Rebecca hated how her voice broke.

  “Be quiet. I’m trying to determine how to get us out of this. I thought you’d help, but apparently not.”

  Gloria stood.

  “Wait. I’ll help. Just tell me what’s going on. I can’t help without fully understanding.”

  “Very well.” Gloria settled back in her chair by the window. “We must get back without being seen. Then, unless you can come up with a better pregnancy related death, your murder must be pinned on Charles. Oh, and once we’re back, I can replace the maid’s necklace. You really shouldn’t have taken it, you silly girl.”

  Ice ran through Rebecca’s veins. Could she really be hearing this? Gloria wanted to help her plan her own murder? The woman had gone completely mad. And clearly she killed Anna as well, but why?

  “Why cast the blame on Charles? I thought you were his friend.”

  “We are more than friends. He is going to marry me. It’s going to be beautiful. You are the final part to convince him he can’t have an heir. And just like the others, the Prince Regent will make this disappear.”

  Dear God, Gloria had killed all of them. She wanted Charles so bad that she planned the murders to coincide with the women’s pregnancies. Rebecca felt sick. This woman didn’t deserve to be free. She lived her life after cutting off so many others. Tears of rage ran down Rebecca’s cheeks.

  “Why have you waited so long to kill me? You have had many opportunities.”

  “First of all, you are difficult to kill. You repel hackneys, you float downstairs, you’re immune to poison, and you run faster than trees. Honestly, that doesn’t leave me with much.”

  Rebecca pulled at her bonds, wanting to slap the look from the woman’s face. “But you waited between each attack. You were sloppy.”

  Fury contorted Gloria’s face. “No. You reeled Charles back in with your wiles. I couldn’t very well kill you when he was smitten. Like with my sweet, unfortunate sister, he took time to recover.”

  A gasp tore through Rebecca’s anger. “You killed your sister?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. I loved my sister. It was that love that extended to her husband when she was gone. I was the only one left to protect him from harlots like you.”

  Thinking back to all her dealings with Gloria, Rebecca could now see all the signs. The woman had always taken more liberties then a friend should when it came to Charles. In addition, the only time Gloria had forced him to spend time with Rebecca had been when he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with her.

  “Then why did—”
/>   “That’s enough questions. Help me find a way to fix your mess, or I will simply have to kill you now and deal with the consequences later.”

  Chapter 17

  Charles paced the hallway outside Paul’s bedchamber. The man had been out for hours, and Charles couldn’t take it any longer. Madam Hershal and the doctor had done their best to rouse him, but both told him head wounds took time. Which was something Charles held in short supply.

  Finally one of the maids emerged from the room. “My lord, he’s beginning to awaken, and the doctor said it would be all right for you to come in.”

  “Good. Please have the magistrate fetched.”

  In a few strides, Charles was in the room. Paul moaned softly as Madam Hershal laid something on his head.

  “You see?” she asked. “Now you can put the bandage on. He will heal in a fraction of the time and experience less pain.”

  “Genius,” the doctor said, awe in his voice.

  “I hate to come between you two,” Charles ground out through clenched teeth. “But Rebecca is still missing. Have you discovered anything useful?”

  “My lord,” Paul croaked from the bed. “The countess . . .”

  Charles rushed over to the bed as Madam Hershal helped Paul drink an orange liquid. The man’s eyes widened as he cleared his throat. Clearly whatever the glass contained brought Paul further to himself.

  “What about Rebecca?” Charles prodded. “Did you see her?”

  “She came rushing out of the door. When I stopped her, I saw fear in her eyes.” Paul winced as he tried to sit up. “She said she had to leave. To find safety.”

  “Did she hit you over the head?” the doctor asked, earning a glare from Charles.