Temptation of a Proper Governess

by Cathy Maxwell

  Michael charged into the room, cuffing his brother on the side of the head, then physically taking him by the collar of his coat and throwing him up against the wall. He held him there, his forearm against Carter’s throat. He could kill him right then, but after ten years, he wanted answers. He wanted everything.

  “Go ahead!” Michael demanded. “Finish the story. There was more to it that night. It was no accident.” He knew that.

  Carter was choking, his face turning blue as he struggled to breathe. Michael let up on the pressure.

  “She did it to herself,” Carter managed. “You heard?”

  “Some.” Their faces were inches from each other.

  “Do you remember anything at all?” Carter asked.

  “I saw you that night,” Michael said. “The two of you were shouting. You shook her, and she fell.” He’d seen his brother kill her and had blotted it out of his liquor-poisoned mind.

  “It was an accident,” Carter said. He was no longer unemotional. It was his life he feared for now. “Aletta told me to leave. Said you were there. She laughed, Michael. Said she had her choice of two brothers and chose you. Do you know how she made me feel? She was such a bloody little tease, and she wanted to toss me out. She shouldn’t have talked to me that way.”

  Michael didn’t say anything.

  “Yes, I shook her,” Carter confessed, “but I didn’t kill her then. She fell and hit her head on the edge of the bed. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to do it.”

  “But she was suffocated.”

  “Yes,” Carter said. “I picked her up, Michael, and put her on the bed. I was sorry. But she came to her senses, saw the blood from the cut on her head, and started screaming—”

  In the back of his mind, Michael could hear her calling to him for help. He’d been unable to comprehend what was happening.

  “—I wanted her to be quiet,” Carter said. “She wouldn’t. She was going to wake you. So I put the pillow over her face, just to shush her a bit. I didn’t mean for her to stop breathing. It was an accident, Michael. It was.”

  “Why didn’t you tell the court that?”

  “I was scared.” Carter wet his lips. “I didn’t plan for it to go the way it did. I took you with me when I left. My thought was to get us both away, but someone had seen you arrive.”

  “You could have said something.”

  “No, I couldn’t.” Carter closed his eyes, his regret seemingly genuine. “There are many things I wished I’d done that night. I shouldn’t have gotten so angry. We both, you and I, had such terrible tempers in those days. You understand.”

  “Why did you let me take the blame?” That was the crux of it. All these years, Michael had wavered between thinking he might have done it and refusing to believe he had. His life had been a living Purgatory because of his brother. “You could have told everyone it was an accident. They might have believed you.”

  Carter shook his head. “Not Father. You know how he was, Michael. I couldn’t face him.”

  “He disowned me.” The pain was still there.

  “Well, at least you weren’t the heir. You can never understand the pressure of the title, how difficult everything is.”

  Michael stepped back from his brother. “I don’t know you. I may never have known you.”

  Released from Michael’s hold, Carter slumped against the wall. “We’ll go to the magistrate now,” Michael said, unable even to look at his brother. “We’ll tell the story. There is a chance they will believe it was an accident.”

  His concern now was for his wife. “What did you give her?” he demanded, going toward the bed.

  “Tincture of opium. She’ll be fine.”

  Michael placed the back of his fingers against her cheek, just as an ominous click sounded behind him. He turned around.

  Carter had regained his balance. He stood tall, a gun in his hand. It was a small pistol, the sort that could be concealed. The click had been the sound of it cocking.

  Michael didn’t feel fear. He’d faced death before. “Why?”

  Carter actually laughed. “I’m broke. The duns hound me, and my lovely wife keeps spending. As your sole male relative, I inherit your wealth and, if all goes as planned, your savage partner will soon follow you out of this life.”

  “You could have asked me for money. I would have given it to you.”

  “And expect me to pay it back—”

  “No,” Michael said, shaking his head. He took a step toward Carter. His brother raised the pistol higher, a warning for him to stop.

  “I know the man you have become, Michael. You will never stop searching for Aletta’s killer. This”—he nodded to the pistol—“solves many problems, including answering the question in people’s minds as to whether you were Aletta’s killer.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because you are going to be accused of killing your wife in the same manner.”

  “And for what reason?” Michael challenged.

  “Riggs. Did you know he had an affair with Isabel? I couldn’t believe my luck in learning that. Wallis fancied Riggs, but apparently he lost interest in her because he’d become enamored by Lady Baynton’s governess, who just so happened to be Isabel. Wallis was furious to have been unceremoniously dumped for a servant. Understand, I was only peripherally aware of all this. It was a stroke of luck actually. However, my awareness of Riggs led to the information that you were to accompany him to a hunt party out in Rutland. I arranged a hunting accident for you. I don’t think most people would have cared if you lived or died back then. You weren’t very well liked, Michael. Your questions and accusations made people nervous. Isabel has changed a lot of that for you.”

  He was right. His wife had opened doors that had previously been closed. “Was Riggs ever an accomplice?”

  “Unwittingly. Of course, he can’t testify against me. He is now far away in India.”

  “You tried to kill me a second time.”

  “I tried to have both you and Isabel removed,” Carter answered. “You can’t imagine how frustrated I’ve been. Murder is not an easy thing to plan.”

  “I imagine it is easier when it is spontaneous,” Michael answered, forcing himself to control his anger.

  “Yes,” his brother admitted, “and less a burden on the conscience although I shall manage to live with myself. After that last attempt failed, I’ve had to bide my time. It’s been difficult.”

  “And you are doing this all for money,” Michael said, letting his scorn show. He looked his brother in his eye. “Kill me, but leave Isabel out of this.” He thought about the guard Isabel had hired to keep watch over him. The man usually stationed himself across the street in the park when Michael was home. If he could get Carter to fire and miss, then perhaps it would alarm his bodyguard enough to come and help.

  “I can’t, Michael,” Carter said. “She’s breeding, and I don’t want to share the fortune. She also isn’t as gullible as you were. Your wife has a quick mind. It’s led to her undoing.”

  Michael felt as if he’d been punched in the head. “Isabel is pregnant?”

  Carter smiled. “I heard that directly from her maid. The husbands are always the last to know. I could never tell with Wallis. Two sons and I never had an inkling until she made an announcement. Of course, her maid always knew.”

  Isabel carried his child. The love they had for each other had manifested itself in a child. It was a sacred and powerful moment—one that gave Michael the strength he needed.

  He moved fast and low, head down, charging his brother and hitting him full force before he could fire. Michael reached for the gun and there was a moment when they both had their hands on it. Of course, Carter had his hand close to the trigger. Michael kneed him and, with a grunt, Carter let go, throwing it aside so that Michael couldn’t have it.

  Both hands free, Carter grabbed Michael by the neck. They crashed into the dresser, knocking over candlesticks and a mirror. Carter fought for his life. He knocked Michae
l to the ground and picked up a side table to smash over him. Michael kicked Carter’s legs out from under him. His brother crashed to the floor.

  Michael was younger, stronger, and angrier. Using his body weight to gain the upper hand, he rose over his brother and slugged him with everything he had.

  Carter went limp.

  Michael waited for him to move. He didn’t. He was still breathing, but he was out cold.

  It was done. It was over. But Michael felt no triumph.

  He rose to check on his wife, when he realized they weren’t alone.

  Wallis stood in the doorway, Carter’s pistol in her hand.

  “Hello, Michael.”

  “I don’t suppose you’ve come to help me?”

  She shook her head. She had one of her feathery hats on, and the ostrich plumes bobbed with her movement. “I’ve been here all along. Downstairs. Carter wanted me to hide in case you returned before he finished with Isabel. I heard the two of you fighting.”

  Michael took a step toward her, and her grip tightened on the pistol. “I’m a good shot,” she said. “Perhaps not as good as you are rumored to be, but I will hit you. It’s still primed.”

  He held up his hands. “I don’t want you to do anything foolish.”

  “I won’t,” she said evenly. On the floor, her husband groaned, regaining consciousness.

  Michael took a step toward her, trying to take advantage of her lapse of attention.

  “Don’t move,” Wallis warned.

  “I’d hoped you weren’t a part of this,” he said.

  “I must be,” she replied sadly.

  “Are you doing it for the money, too?”

  “I do it for my sons,” she said. “They don’t have much of a father. He’s almost ruined us all, but there you have it. He’s the man I married, and I must support him.”

  Carter reached up and grabbed the spread on top of the bed to help himself up. He shook his head as if clearing his brain.

  “Wallis, are you certain you can get away with murder twice?” Michael asked. “You met Alex. We caught the man who attempted to sabotage our ship. Alex will avenge my death.”

  “I can handle him,” she said confidently.

  “Did you know he sent me a note after your meeting? He’s already suspicious of you. We both have been of everyone.” Everyone, that was, except Carter.

  “I wish I wasn’t a part of this, Michael,” Wallis said stiffly.

  Carter rose to his feet. Wallis glanced at her husband, then back to Michael. “I’ve wished that for a long time, ever since Carter murdered that actress and dragged me into it. I would have been happier if he hadn’t told me. If I’d thought you were the guilty one.”

  “So, you’ve known all along.”

  She nodded. “Unfortunately.” She paused a moment, then confessed, “Do you know I used to love Carter at one time? I adored him—all the way up until he made me his accomplice in Aletta Calendri’s murder. My poor sons.”

  “Then free yourself of it,” Michael urged quietly.

  “I can’t,” Wallis said. “There’s too much at stake.”

  Michael gambled everything he had on his sister-in-law. “Wallis, kill me, but spare Isabel. She’s innocent in all this. She’s going to have my child. You can’t let her die.”

  The news rocked her back. She looked to her husband in confusion. “Is this true?”

  Carter was more concerned with the blood at the corner of his mouth than his wife’s conscience. “Your Becky told me. It only gives us more reason to see her dead. Can’t keep her alive.”

  “Except now, instead of two people, you are involving me with the murder of a child,” Wallis answered.

  “The child’s not born yet,” Carter said flatly.

  She looked at him in horror. “Did I never know you?” she wondered. “Are we strangers?”

  Carter made an impatient sound. “Here, give me the damn gun. You go downstairs, and I’ll come get you when I’m done.”

  “No,” Wallis said. “I’m not doing this, Carter, and I’m not letting you do it.” She turned as if to run from the room but her husband jumped for her, knocking her to the ground.

  Michael rushed to help Wallis. He saw the gun in Carter’s hand. Wallis struggled to turn over, shoving her husband just as the pistol went off.

  Carter stiffened. He sat back on his heels and looked down. He’d turned the weapon in his own direction and shot himself in the chest at close range.

  He stumbled up to his feet and looked down at his wife in amazement.

  “I didn’t—I couldn’t,” Wallis whispered.

  He looked at Michael. “I shot myself.” He sounded slightly amazed. The pistol dropped from his hands, and he fell to his knees.

  Eighteen

  Michael moved to his brother and lowered him to the floor. The wound was mortal. Carter started having difficulty breathing. Michael held him in his arms.

  “Is he going to live?” Wallis asked, her tone edged with hysteria.

  “Why don’t you go downstairs?” Michael suggested quietly.

  Instead, she leaned over her husband. Carter looked up at her. For a long moment, they stared at each other.

  Wallis broke the silence first. “I did love you, Carter. At one time, I cared for you very deeply.”

  Struggling for breath, he asked, “Then why…didn’t you…do…what I said?”

  Tears welled in his wife’s eyes. “For my sons.” It was the same reason she’d given for having a hand in his plans. “And because I couldn’t kill a baby. I couldn’t have that on my soul.”

  “Go on,” her husband said harshly. “Leave me be.”

  Wallis scrambled to her feet and went out in the hall. A second later, Michael heard her break down into sobs.

  Carter frowned at Michael. “Don’t…trust…women.”

  They were his last words. A beat later, he died.

  Michael closed his brother’s eyes and laid him on the floor. Outside, the rain continued at a steady pace. He rose to his feet and went to his wife.

  Isabel slept peacefully, blissfully unaware of what had transpired around her. Michael took her into his arms and carried her out of the room and away from all the ugliness.

  Isabel recovered from her opium-induced sleep without any ill effects.

  An inquest was quickly organized to look into the circumstances surrounding Carter’s death. Michael welcomed the opportunity to clear his name and was gratified when Wallis testified to the truth. Her testimony was substantiated by the maid Becky.

  The judge at the inquest ruled that Carter had shot himself. The ruling didn’t make the following days any less stressful. The gossips went wild.

  Michael accompanied Wallis to the boys’ schools to bring them home. It might have been simpler to have sent a coach, but Wallis knew they would be upset by their father’s death.

  Jeremy and Wallace had both been the light of their parents’ lives. They appeared to be good boys who had respected their father and thought of their uncle as a murderer. Breaking the news to them was not easy, especially since rumor traveled faster than Michael and Wallis.

  By the time they arrived at Eton, the oldest, Jeremy had already heard many of the stories concerning his father’s death. He refused to see his mother, and that cut almost destroyed Wallis.

  “I must talk to him,” Michael told the headmaster.

  “He is being very firm in his decision,” the gentleman said.

  “He’s a boy. Tell him I will see him.”

  The headmaster did not dare defy Michael.

  He met Jeremy in the headmaster’s gloomy office. When the boy entered the room his carriage was so erect Michael sensed he might break if he bent even the slightest bit. Therefore, he was not surprised when Jeremy refused his offer to sit in the chair across from his.

  “I’d rather stand, sir.” He spoke to Michael as if he were a stranger…and, sadly, he was.

  “You look very much like your father,” Michael said. It
was true.

  “Thank you.”

  “You know who I am?”

  “Yes, sir,” Jeremy’s voice had gone fainter.

  “I’m sorry,” Michael said, meaning the words.

  For the first time, his nephew looked at him. His eyes were shiny. “I wish you had been the guilty one,” he said, his voice tense with emotion.

  “I know.”

  There was no other way to deal with this issue than honesty. “Here, sit,” Michael said.

  This time, Jeremy practically collapsed in the chair.

  “You have a great weight on your shoulders,” Michael began. He would not talk down to his nephew. “You are going to be named the earl of Jemison.”

  “I know, sir.”

  “There are responsibilities that accompany a title.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “One of them is seeing to the family.”

  The boy nodded. Michael wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t know.

  “I loved your father.”

  Now he had Jeremy’s attention. “I looked up to him,” Michael said. “I tried to follow in his footsteps.”

  “You ruined him.” The boy’s face was tight as if he suppressed all emotion.

  “No, we all make our choices, and your father made his. He chose his own path, Jeremy, but it doesn’t have to be yours.”

  “I know that.” There was such pride in those words.

  “Your brother needs you, as does your mother.”

  The child in him surfaced at last. “They say she killed him,” he said, looking to Michael. “Is that true?”

  Michael leaned forward. “No.”

  Jeremy swallowed. His anger and fear battled with his love of his mother.

  “She did the right thing, Jeremy. Your father attacked her. The shooting was an accident. He had the gun in his hand, not her. And I will be honest. He wanted her to kill me and my wife. If she had gone along with him, both of your parents would have been charged with murder. A man can’t run forever from his actions. The truth would have been known sooner or later.”

  “I don’t want to believe he murdered anyone.” Jeremy swung around to Michael. “You were the bad one. We all hated you.”