The Bet

by Rebecca King

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “Ahem.”

  Myles mentally groaned and slowly released her. It took a few moments for the fog in his brain to clear enough for him to realise they were no longer alone. He gave Estelle an apologetic look, but couldn’t move away when he saw how she was looking at him. He was about to lower his head again when a discrete cough by the door stopped him.

  “I don’t want to interrupt,” Barnabas murmured awkwardly from the doorway. “We are waiting for you.”

  At any other time, he would have been amused and ribbed his son a little for his waywardness. However, given the recent death in the house, jocularity was inappropriate, even if his discovery was enlightening.

  “What is it?” Myles asked, unable to bring himself to lie to his father by making excuses for his errant behaviour.

  “I was going to look for Gerald’s new will, remember?” Barnabas replied. “Isaac is insisting the will is at Gerald’s house. He won’t listen to me when I tell him that I have a copy of the new will Gerald made.”

  Myles nodded, but his gaze remained locked on Estelle. Estelle clung to him while she waited for her knees to stop shaking enough to hold her upright again. Eventually, she realised she had to let him go, and slowly uncurled her fingers from their tight hold on the soft material of his shirt.

  “I am sorry,” he whispered. “We need to go.”

  Estelle nodded, too confused to speak. It was the first time she had ever been kissed, and it had stolen her senses. So much so that she was struggling to remember where they were and what was going on. Her heart thundered so loudly that she could only vaguely hear Myles when he whispered in her ear: “Are you alright?”

  Estelle offered him a shaky smile, too choked to speak. How could she explain to him that she was stunned? That in all of her wildest dreams she had never expected that to happen, and with Myles of all men. He was of a different world to hers entirely given that he lived in a huge mansion and she lived in a tiny cottage with her grandma. He had a title; she didn’t. He was wealthy; she didn’t have a penny to her name. The differences between them were endless, but she still couldn’t bring herself to regret what they had shared.

  Did that make her wanton? Was she reckless, foolhardy, or just plain wayward? If she was any of those things she couldn’t deny it, because she truly felt as though she had now stepped out of the boundaries of her normal life, into a world of chaotic confusion where her emotions were carried along on a tide not of her making. She had no control over anything anymore; certainly not her treacherous heart, which yearned to be in his arms again even though her mind was screaming at her to run before she lost her heart completely.

  Strangely, she couldn’t quite shake off the niggling worry that she had already lost her heart completely. It belonged to Myles now.

  Don’t be preposterous. You have only known him a short while. Why, you don’t know anything about the man. He could be a cad for all you know, a dark voice warned her. Even so, she couldn’t change the way she felt being in his arms. Or the way her stomach flipped over whenever he entered the room. Or the way her mind went blank whenever he smiled at her – like he was doing now.

  “Shall we go back?” he murmured.

  He wondered if he had upset her with his forwardness but made no apology for it. He waited for her to chastise him for taking liberties. When she merely appeared dazed, he ushered her toward the door. He was uncomfortably aware that if they spent any more time alone together in the study he was going to do something foolhardy and scandalous like kiss her again. This time, though, he doubted he would find the strength to stop.

  As he wandered across the hallway after her, he considered the possibility of having to marry her, if only to preserve her reputation. It wasn’t as disquieting as he had supposed it would be. Instead, he found the prospect rather intriguing. Tucking that thought to one side to cogitate over later he followed her into the study and took a seat on the chaise as close to her as proprietary allowed.

  Barnabas proceeded to break the seal on the will and unroll the parchment.

  A deathly silence fell over everybody.

  “Who is his estate left to then? He can’t have cut Isaac out entirely,” Myles demanded, then froze when Barnabas looked at him.

  “I, Gerald Antony Martin-Howe, being of blah, blah, blah, blah, hereby leave the entirety of my estate to-” he broke off and stared at the parchment in disbelief.

  “Who?” Isaac demanded. His voice shot across the room like a lightning bolt. “God damn it, tell me.”

  “Myles,” Barnabas whispered, clearly stunned.

  Isaac stared at him in stony silence. He didn’t speak. Instead, he stalked across the room and snatched the parchment out of his uncle’s head, then turned his back and read it.

  “Good God, the bounder has gone and done it,” he whispered in stunned disbelief. “The bastard has actually gone and cut me out of the will.” He turned cold eyes on his uncle. “Did you have a hand in this?”

  Barnabas shook his head. “I did discuss his desire to change his will with him, as I am sure you are aware. I told him, quite wisely, that he should protect the family name and do whatever he needed to do to make sure the estate thrived in his absence. He couldn’t rely on you. You were too busy in London spending money like water in gaming houses and on your mistresses. I think – no – I know, Gerald got tired of funding your lifestyle. A lifestyle you made no attempt to earn.”

  “So you persuaded him to leave your son everything,” Isaac snarled. He scrunched the parchment up and threw it across the room.

  It landed at Estelle’s feet. She bent down to pick it up and handed it to Myles, who took it off her with a thoughtful frown. He unrolled it and read it for himself before he placed it carefully onto the small table beside him.

  “Well, I am not surprised he didn’t leave me anything,” Beatrice sighed. “He hated me. We all knew it. We didn’t like each other.”

  “We know,” Myles replied.

  Beatrice glared at him. “That doesn’t mean I would kill him. We argued. We never physically fought. I hurled insults at him and he threw them back, it was as simple as that. I didn’t want – that – to happen to him.”

  Nobody spoke. Estelle felt more of a spare wheel than ever, and remained in uncomfortable silence, too scared to leave, too aware of Myles to stay with any ease.

  “What now?” Beatrice asked when nobody seemed inclined to want to talk. She shifted in her seat as she looked at her elder brother.

  “Well, now we know that Myles is the main beneficiary rather than Isaac, I think it is safe to assume that he might be the killer’s next target,” Barnaby murmured.

  “Why? I mean, if they intended him any harm, why didn’t they try to kill him this morning when they killed Gerald?” Estelle felt bad for Gerald, even though she had never met him.

  Myles, shaken to the core by what he had just learnt, picked her hand up in his and patted the back of it, more for his own comfort than for hers.

  “I was with two members of the gardening staff this morning. We were discussing what to do with the lawns once the weather cleared. It would have been impossible to kill me,” he replied honestly.

  “Well, I think we all need to look a little more carefully at you, cousin dear. I mean, you race here but almost kill someone on the way. Rather than take her home, or to a doctor so she can get the proper medical help, you bring her here. How do we know you didn’t do that to protect yourself? Just in case her injuries were severe. I mean, a random stranger who vanishes in the night is hardly going to tell anybody you killed them, are they?”

  “Isaac, shut up,” Barnabas ordered coldly.

  Isaac laughed cynically. “Oh, I don’t think so, uncle. Not now that I have finally started to see sense. You two have been in on this from the very beginning, haven’t you?”

  “Don’t be absurd.”

  “How preposterous!” Myles and Barnabas spoke together then looked at each other.

  Neither of
them would deny it looked suspicious, but they were not prepared to be accused of such behaviour by anybody in their own home.

  “It is all starting to become clear now. I mean, you rushed home when you received your letter. Everybody agrees that it is strange that the sender knew where to find you. Now, my poor father has been butchered in the house owned by the person who is to inherit his immense wealth and estate. It is a little too convenient,” Isaac snorted.

  “I did no such thing,” Myles replied calmly but firmly. “I think you need to calm down and consider the fact that your father mentioned on several occasions that he was not happy with your profligate ways. If you had just listened then he wouldn’t have taken the steps he did to prevent you from damaging the family name.”

  Isaac stared at him for several long moments. Estelle watched and waited. She half expected him to launch himself at Myles so they could battle it out. In the end, Isaac threw Myles a dark glare and slammed out of the room without speaking to anyone.

  Barnabas opened his mouth to call him back, but Myles stopped him.

  “Let him take some time to himself,” Myles murmured. “I am sure it is just the grief talking.”

  “But he shouldn’t go anywhere on his own,” Barnabas protested.

  “He is armed,” Myles sighed. “Given the temper he is in I think the murderer is in more danger than Isaac.”

  He knew from Barnabas’ heavy snort that he didn’t believe it for a second. Neither did Myles, but he wasn’t going to wrestle Isaac back into the room. It would just cause more anger and ill feeling between everyone, which only added to the problems they currently faced.

  “What now?” Estelle asked quietly. “I mean, if you are the beneficiary, and if someone killed Gerald to get their hands on his money, that makes you their likely to be their next target.”

  Myles’ face was grim when he nodded. “Well, if anything happens to me, Barnabas gets it all, including Uncle Gerald’s estate, and that is the end of it. Hopefully, I will have a long and happy life, and will be able to hand everything over to my children.”

  Estelle felt a wild flurry of something like anticipation sweep through her when he said that. She had to wonder what his children would look like. Would they be tall like their father? Would they have his dark hair, or his wonderful grey eyes?

  The silence that settled over the rest of them could only be described as tense. Estelle sensed a slight undercurrent between the other occupants of the room. She suspected that the family had things they wished to speak about, but weren’t inclined to want to discuss them in the presence of a stranger. Aware that she was intruding, she pushed to her feet.

  “I am going to have a lie down if that is alright?” she murmured.

  Myles shot to his feet, a frown of concern on his face. “Are you alright? Is it your head?”

  It wasn’t, but she nodded. She needed an excuse to leave and retreat to her room for a while and suspected that if she said she was fine, Myles would insist on following her to her room and staying with her until she was prepared to return to the study. After the shock the day had brought to everybody, she needed a few moments to herself to gather her thoughts. She felt as though she was being carried along by a storm; an out of control one she couldn’t break free from. It left her slightly breathless, and unsure of, well, practically everything.

  “I have a bit of a headache, that’s all.” She offered him a reassuring smile but it dimmed far too soon to convince him of anything other than the fact she was still hiding something.

  “I will escort you to your room,” he suggested with too much force for it to be an offer.

  Estelle still shook her head. “It is alright. I can manage by myself, thank you,” she replied equally as firmly.

  “But I have said you should not go anywhere in this house by yourself,” he protested.

  “Yes, but if you escort me to my room then you have to come back here all alone and then you will be by yourself,” she argued. “From the look of it you are in far more danger than me.”

  Barnabas snorted. “She has a point.”

  “That might be true but I am armed,” Myles warned her.

  “Well, that is not going to do you any good if someone stabs you in the back like they did Gerald, is it?” she snapped.

  She closed her eyes and willed herself to calm down. When she looked at Myles again, her eyes were full of apology.

  Myles watched her internal battle and wondered whether it was the residual effects of the kiss they had shared. Was she angry with him for being so bold? Or had the day finally gotten the better of her?

  “I will escort you to your room.” Myles’ voice was stilted but determined.

  “I can manage, thank you,” Estelle persisted.

  She glared at him but then felt incredibly guilty for having taken her bad temper out on him. She had no idea where the ill feeling had come from. Was it frustration?

  No, it is concern for him, a dark voice warned her, and she knew it to be true. She hated the edgy, restless feeling she had whenever she contemplated the possibility of something happening to Myles. It made her want to tear at her own hair, but there was nothing she could do about it. It was something she knew she had to accept for the time being.

  He followed her all the way to the door. “What’s wrong?” he murmured quietly, aware of his father watching them but unable to tear his gaze away from Estelle’s.

  “I just need to think, that’s all. My head is whirling so much it is difficult to get my thoughts in order. I cannot help but feel that we are missing something but I cannot make out what,” she replied quietly.

  “Like what; a clue or something?” Myles frowned but couldn’t think of anything.

  Estelle sighed. “If they – the killer - wanted to kill Barnabas they wouldn’t bring everyone to the house to witness it, would they? They would wait for everyone to go home, and for you to be in London, and then struck him down just as effectively as they have your uncle. I mean, they stabbed Gerald in the back. They could do the same quiet easily with Barnabas. I cannot help but think that is the key here.”

  “She has a point,” Barnabas sighed, making no apology for having listened in on their conversation. He pierced Estelle with a stern look. “Should we take that as a warning?”

  Estelle stared at him. Her stomach sank to her knees as she considered what she had just said and realised it made her sound as though she was issuing threats.

  “I am sorry you think that way, but no. I did not kill Gerald. I have never met the man.” Aware that as an outsider they probably wouldn’t believe her anyway, Estelle turned to Myles. “It would be best if you stayed here with your father and aunt. I mean, I don’t have any connection to anybody in this house. I am not even supposed to be here. What could the killer possibly want with me?”

  Before anybody could argue she swept out of the room and closed the door behind her with a firm click. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, though, she was physically trembling with fear. Her ears were tuned to any sound of movement around her as she hurried down the hallway to her room. She couldn’t ignore the feeling that someone had been watching her the entire time and it brought with it alarmed her so much she quickened her steps and shook with fear.

  Once inside the safety of her room, she slammed the door closed and flicked the lock. Only then did she rest her back against the door while she studied the room before her. Thankfully, a maid had left a candle alight. The fire roared away heartily in the fireplace, bathing the room in a warm, cosy glow. Everything was as neat as a pin and, from her vantage point by the doorway she could see that there was nobody hiding in the room. Now that it was safe to do so, she crossed the room and lay down on the bed. She didn’t expect to rest properly because her mind was in too much turmoil. However, within seconds of putting her head on the pillow her eyes closed and the world retreated into darkness.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Her feet hurt. All she could hear were whispers; haunting
ones swirling around her, carried on the thick fog that shrouded everything in gloom. Her gasps were loud, echoed by the thundering of her feet on the forest floor. Panic suffused her. It was difficult to breathe. She wanted to. The need to draw in much needed air was rife, but she couldn’t. Her lungs wouldn’t work. Her eyes grew wider and wider as fear took root deep inside her soul. She yearned to break free of the clawing hands that held her back but she couldn’t. Sweat popped out on her brow. She could feel the warm tendrils turn to icy fingers as they slithered down her cheek. A scream locked in the back of her throat. The need to give voice to it was so strong that denying her the ability to do so brought tears to her eyes. Her anger bloomed but there was nothing she could do to ease the fear to use it. She was locked in a silent battle, determined to flee the hooded figures chasing her, tugging at her clothing with as much cruel determination as the coarse stings of the branches that scratched her.

  Suddenly, the crooked face of an aged woman, her eyes spitefully narrowed over a thin twist of lips, grinned maliciously at her. Estelle wasn’t running anymore. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, couldn’t think beyond the face that leered at her. Instinctively, she knew the woman wanted something but couldn’t get her mouth to work enough to ask what. The distinct feeling of being warned about something registered on her senses. She knew in that second that wherever she was she was trespassing, and danger surrounded her. Her mouth opened to scream but nothing came out. Her silently piercing scream was audible only to herself. Inside her soul, the warning took hold and blossomed throughout her entire being, ridding herself of the frustration of not being in control of her own being, and replacing it with the need to flee. Before she could, the fog swirled again and cleared enough for her to see the road she needed to take to reach safety. The path she had to use was blocked by the thick, swirling fog still. The only path that was visible was one she didn’t want to take. She knew that it would take her to the one place she didn’t want to go: the crooked cottage, deep in the woods where nothing grew and nobody lived. Strangely, she suspected that the cottage and the hag were linked but also knew that this couldn’t be. Scared, alone, confused, her heart pounding rhythmically in her ears, Estelle spun around, desperate to find a way out. A whimper escaped when she realised she was standing in the centre of a circle of hooded figures, all of them motionless and silent.