In the Barrister's Bed

by Tina Gabrielle

  “Hello, Bella.”

  She whirled around and her heart plummeted in her chest.

  Sweet Lord! It’s Roger returned from the grave.

  She would have fainted had a vise-like grip not grasped her wrist.

  “I see you’ve forgotten my existence.”

  Through the roaring din in her ears, his voice was like an echo from an empty tomb. Her head fell back, and she gazed into frightening brown eyes. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

  He squeezed her wrist painfully, and she snapped to attention. She then noticed the differences. The hair was a darker shade of blond. The shape of the face not oval, but coffin-shaped. The nose, slightly bent as if it had been broken before.

  He grinned, and his hard eyes gleamed with distrust, rather than demented obsession.

  “Rupert,” she whispered.

  Roger’s twin brother.

  “Good, Bella. You haven’t forgotten.”

  “But you died!”

  His laughter had a sharp edge. “Is that what Roger told you? We had a disagreement. I can only assume he concocted a story about my demise.”

  She’d only met Rupert Sinclair once before, and it had been on her wedding day all those years ago. He’d only stayed an hour to wish his brother and new bride well before departing the festivities. Rupert had lived in Somersetshire and apart from his twin since their eighteenth summer until—she was told—he had died of consumption last spring.

  Her stomach sank. So what was Rupert doing at Wyndmoor Manor sneaking into the stables?

  She wrenched her wrist free. “What do you want?”

  “Is that any way to greet your beloved brother-in-law?” he said, his voice heavy with sarcasm.

  “Roger’s dead. You never came to the funeral.”

  “Alas, I could not. I was away on business matters and far from Plymouth.”

  “Why are you here?” she said.

  “My twin is dead and some rumors say that you were responsible for his untimely demise.”

  A ribbon of fear threaded low in her belly. He couldn’t know. Could he? “The rumors are lies. Roger fell down the stairs.”

  His dark eyes were like bits of stone. “I asked a few of his staff. They said he was quarreling with you at the top of the landing. You pushed him down.”

  “I didn’t! He tripped on his own and fell. He was drunk!”

  “I wonder if the authorities would believe the same.”

  “The constable was called, and he concluded rightfully that it was an accident,” she insisted.

  “But I have a witness that says otherwise.”

  “Who?”

  “Roger’s former housekeeper.”

  “She wasn’t there.”

  Rupert laughed bitterly. “A few shillings and that greedy woman will testify to anything. You would surely languish in prison. What would happen to your beloved nursemaid? Roger told me he often used her as leverage. He enjoyed manipulating and twisting you to his will, Bella.” He reached out to tug a wayward curl at her shoulder. “You are even more beautiful than on your wedding day. I can understand my brother’s obsession.”

  Repulsed, she slapped his hand away. “I cannot imagine you have traveled all this way to threaten me. What do you really want, Rupert?”

  “It’s simple, really. My brother and I were engaged in certain shipping activities—”

  “Are you referring to Roger’s imports of French brandy, or his illegal exports of guns and ammunition to the French?”

  “So you know,” he said in a nasty tone. “You always were more intelligent than you let on. I tried to warn Roger, but he was infatuated from the first time he saw you in the village.”

  Disgust roiled through her. She had found documents that revealed Rupert occasionally had aided Roger with his endeavors, but she had not known to what extent. Looking into his frighteningly similar features, a fierce hatred ran down her spine.

  Hatred commingled with a sickening fear.

  He turned and it was then that she saw the pistol in his waistband. A shaft of light from the parted stable door glinted off the steel.

  She swallowed. “If you’re here to find out whether I told anyone of my knowledge, I did not.”

  “Good, but that’s not why I traveled all this way. You were a hard woman to find. I knew you wouldn’t remain in Plymouth after Roger had convinced people you were mad, but I was certain you would head for London. I never thought you would buy a country estate until I learned you were living with a man. You wasted no time in finding a benefactor, did you? A duke, no less! I would have filled the position had I known it was open.”

  “You flatter yourself.”

  His eyes narrowed to slits. “I’ve been following you, waiting for the perfect moment to get you alone.”

  Realization dawned. “It was you in the Black Hound and later in the shopping district.” She hadn’t lost her mind imagining Roger’s ghost.

  “Yes. The fight at the bar prevented me from approaching you. As for your excursion in St. Albans, you never separated from your female companion.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Roger kept detailed ledgers of all his business dealings. I want them.”

  “You can’t be serious! Roger kept many, many ledgers.”

  “We both know he kept two sets of his import/export activities. One for the tax collector to inspect and the other, well, to keep record of his more illicit activities.”

  Bella knew this. She had stumbled across the second set of books and was reading about Roger’s treasonous activities when he had walked in on her. He had never been as furious.

  “I don’t have his books,” she said. “I left Plymouth with only our necessities. The ledgers must still be hidden in the house.”

  “I purchased the house after you fled. I searched every nook and loose floorboard in the place and came up empty. The ledger isn’t there. I suspect Roger hid it in your belongings unbeknownst to you,” Rupert said.

  “You’re jesting.”

  “The ledger will be simple to find now that you know to look for it. I must have it as it incriminates me as much as it did my twin.”

  Bitterness spilled over into her voice. “What’s to stop me from turning the ledger over to the authorities myself to have you sent to prison?”

  A lethal calmness lit his eyes. “I’m impressed, but I’ve thought of that already. Should anything happen to me, I paid a man to drag you before the constable to be tried for my brother’s murder and to see to it that your old hag of a nursemaid suffers in your absence. Find the ledger, give it to me, and you shall never have to set eyes on me again.”

  Bella felt as if an iron fist tightened around her heart. He would do it, she knew. He could easily bribe Roger’s housekeeper to testify to anything he chose. The hint of truth behind the threat made it even more ominous.

  Still, the new Bella Sinclair had sworn never to cower to a man again.

  She raised her chin. “As you astutely pointed out, there is a duke in residence. Even your paltry threats won’t work on him.”

  “Then I’ll have to kill him.”

  Bella halted. Was he serious? Roger wouldn’t have hesitated to hurt the Regent himself if the royal had stood in the way of his own greed. “An accident can easily be arranged,” she had heard her husband say when speaking of one of his enemies.

  But to murder a duke?

  Rupert, it appeared, shared not only his twin’s looks, but his ruthlessness as well.

  Rupert pushed her roughly toward the stable door. “Go. Now. And tell no one you saw me. Especially your duke.”

  Bella found Harriet hard at work in the larder, checking the stores against her list and instructing one of the maids on how to properly label the jars of jam and vegetables. The maid, relieved at the distraction, scurried out of the room, and Bella drew Harriet into a far corner of the kitchen.

  “Where did you store all the trunks?” Bella asked.

  “What’
s all the fuss?” Harriet countered.

  “It’s imperative we search through everything we took with us from Plymouth.”

  “Why?”

  “I had a run-in with Rupert in the stables,” Bella said.

  “Roger’s twin?” Harriet asked incredulously. “But that’s impossible. He died last—”

  “No, that was another of Roger’s lies. Rupert is very much alive, I assure you.”

  “Why has Rupert come now?”

  “He’s seeking one of Roger’s business ledgers.” Bella needn’t specify which one; Harriet knew everything about her former employer. “Rupert couldn’t find the ledger in the Plymouth house, and he is certain Roger hid it amongst my belongings. The man won’t leave until he has it.”

  “So? It seems to me that we have the upper hand. Can we not use the ledger against him?”

  Anxiety spurted through Bella. “No! That’s not an option.”

  Harriet grasped Bella’s hand. “Don’t let that scoundrel use me to manipulate you to his will the way Roger did.”

  “It’s not just that,” Bella rushed on. “Rupert threatened everyone’s safety, even the duke’s, and he claims he can bribe Roger’s former housekeeper to say I pushed Roger down the stairs.” Bella bit her bottom lip. “There’s truth to it. When Roger raised his hand to strike me, I did—”

  Harriet squeezed her hand. “Bella, stop that nonsense and listen to me. We are under the protection of the Duke of Blackwood.”

  “We most certainly are not. Sharing a residence does not mean the man owes us the slightest shred of protection.”

  “I’ve got a good sense of people’s characters. Blackwood wouldn’t allow harm to befall you. He’s half in love with you. You have the power to make him fall all the way.”

  “As his mistress. Truth be told, Rupert’s arrival has awakened me to my folly. I swore never to remarry and put myself under a man’s domain. A mistress is no better off—she is lulled into a false sense of independence and security until her benefactor tires of her and casts her aside. The law was written by men and fails to protect women. I’d lose Wyndmoor Manor for certain.”

  “What about Rupert?” Harriet asked.

  “We need to find that ledger.”

  James understood Investigator Papazian required time to solve the mystery surrounding Bella Sinclair. A successful barrister spent many hours patiently waiting for results, whether from his own investigators or in the hallowed halls of the Old Bailey waiting for witnesses, trials to commence, or for delayed jury verdicts. But this time, James’s patience seemed to have abandoned him as strange and disquieting thoughts ran through his mind regarding Bella’s safety.

  Knowing he needed a distraction, James busied himself with estate matters the entire morning. He met with Gideon Jacobson, the old duke’s steward and the man James had urged upon Bella for the position. James locked himself in the library with Jacobson, and together they ensured that the books were in order after Sir Reeves’s short but fiscally irresponsible ownership of the place.

  After four hours of accounting figures, ink-stained fingers, and strained eyes, James emerged from the library feeling restless and caged within the confines of the house.

  James immediately called for Coates. “I’m going for a ride.”

  Coates took one look at his master’s disgruntled features and asked, “Is there a problem I can take care of for you, Your Grace?”

  “Nothing a good ride won’t solve.”

  James entered the stables and went to his stallion in the corner stall. Maximus whinnied and repeatedly shook his head.

  “Ho, Maximus. What’s troubling you, boy?”

  James picked up a brush. The young stable boy, Bobby, was nowhere in sight. As he drew near, Maximus snorted and thumped the side of the wood stall.

  The other horses whinnied in response; the matching pair of chestnuts reared up, wild-eyed.

  James’s nerves tensed immediately. He whirled around, simultaneously scanning the stables.

  Then he spotted him.

  “Christ!”

  Bobby lay sprawled face down at the far end of the stable floor. James crouched and gently turned the boy over. The left side of his face was bruised and bloodied. Pieces of hay clung to his red hair and clothing. All of the horses were accounted for in their stables.

  There was no question. The boy had been attacked.

  James quickly checked for a pulse, relieved when he felt the strong beat beneath his fingers.

  Suddenly, James spotted a blur from the corner of his eye. Instinct kicked in, and James rolled to the side just as a dark figure launched at him.

  His attacker had a wiry strength. James blocked a fierce punch and they wrestled in the straw when the man raised his fist again, and James spotted a pistol in his grip. James lunged for his arm, and they struggled for control when the pistol fired. A searing pain lanced James’s side. Through a haze of red, James saw the man stumble to his feet and flee the stables.

  Chapter 16

  “Sweet heaven! What was that?” Harriet asked.

  Bella’s head jerked to the nearest window. “It sounded like a gunshot.”

  They had been searching the trunks they had brought from Plymouth in a spare bedchamber when the sound of the shot reverberated throughout the room.

  Bella jumped to her feet. “Stay in the house until I return.”

  “But what if it’s dangerous?”

  Ignoring Harriet, Bella rushed to the top of the landing and down the front stairs. The front door stood open and she sped outside. The duke’s manservant, Coates, and two of the footmen were already sprinting across the lawn.

  “What happened?” Bella shouted to Coates.

  He barely looked her way. “In the stables!”

  After a moment’s hesitation, she ran after him. As she approached the stable door, James stumbled out carrying Bobby, unconscious in his arms. The boy’s head hung to the side, revealing a bloodied face.

  As James gingerly handed the boy over to a footman she saw the blood staining the duke’s white shirtfront.

  The entire right side of his shirt was crimson.

  Her breath caught. What has gone on here?

  She ran to his side. “What happened?”

  Sapphire eyes held not only pain, but rage. “Bobby was knocked unconscious. I wrestled with his attacker, and I was shot.”

  Bella’s hand fluttered to her breast.

  Rupert. It was Rupert who had attacked Bobby and shot James. Air rushed in and out of her lungs like a bellows. She was vaguely aware of the rest of the household gathering around.

  “Summon the physician,” James instructed another footman. “Bobby took a nasty hit to the head.”

  Leaning on Coates, James made his way inside. Bella trailed after them, her mind a crazy whirl of fear and dread.

  Once inside she found her voice. “The drawing room is closest,” she directed Coates. “Lay him on the settee.”

  It was James who hesitated. “I’ll bloody it.”

  “You’ve been shot! You think I care as to the state of the upholstery?” she asked incredulously.

  He shot her a lopsided grin and sat. “It’s only a flesh wound.”

  Coates helped him unbutton his shirt. Bella winced at the jagged oozing wound. She had seen a man’s naked torso, of course. But Roger had been older, and his fondness for sweets and liquor had turned him into a plump, paunchy man. He had been fair and his flesh pale.

  But James’s chest ... oh my, it appeared to have been molded of bronze. He shrugged the shirt completely aside, and the fluid, rippling motion of the muscles in his wide shoulders and back fascinated her.

  Coates probed the wound, and James hissed in pain.

  “Careful! You’re hurting him,” she blurted.

  Coates eyed her. “I need to make certain the ball passed through. Whiskey would help right now.”

  She rushed to the sideboard and withdrew a crystal decanter and glass. She poured a good amount wi
th a shaky hand and handed the glass to Coates.

  Coates took both the glass and the decanter from her. He handed the glass to James, who downed the contents in one swallow. Coates then took the decanter and poured it on the wound.

  James’s entire body went rigid. Gritting his teeth, he let forth a groan of pain.

  “What did you do that for?” Bella asked.

  “To kill any infection, of course.” Coates spoke as if she was a simpleton.

  “I know alcohol kills infections. I meant to ask shouldn’t you wait for the local surgeon? The footman left to fetch the man.”

  “Good,” James grunted. “He’ll need to clean the wound and put a few stitches in me.” His glare sharpened at her. “Then we’re going to talk about who was in the stables.”

  Bella paced her bedchamber awaiting any news. The local surgeon, a man by the name of Dr. Muddleton, had arrived two hours ago and had marched straightaway to the duke’s bedchamber and firmly closed the door.

  A cold shiver spread over Bella as she thought of James. The rose-hued walls and large window overlooking the rear gardens had always soothed her nerves in the past, but failed to ease the tight knot in her stomach now. She felt like a slashed rope, unraveling thread by thread.

  The door opened and Harriet slipped inside. “The stable lad came to and the surgeon believes he’ll suffer no ill effects.”

  “Thank goodness!” Bella said. “And the duke?”

  “The surgeon continues to treat him as we speak.”

  Bella bit her bottom lip until it throbbed like her pulse. “Rupert is the culprit. Both Bobby and the duke must have walked in on Rupert in the stables. It’s all my fault!”

  “You must not blame yourself for Rupert’s foul deeds. You couldn’t have known.”

  Guilt seared Bella’s chest. How could she not feel responsible? Her past had returned to harm those who’d had no hand in Roger and Rupert’s treason. The ball may have grazed James, but she had seen the gruesome wound with her own eyes. The flesh was torn and there had been so much blood.

  Then there was the risk of infection.

  Bella had a vivid memory of one of Roger’s tenants who had injured himself pitching hay. The man’s thigh had been punctured to the bone. Roger had dismissed the tenant’s injuries, saying they were merely superficial and had sent the surgeon away. A day later, the man had developed a raging fever; two days later, he had perished.