Lady Margaret's Mystery Gentleman

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Lady Margaret's Mystery Gentleman Page 16

by Christine Merrill


  ‘I have been trying to protect you,’ Hugh said softly. ‘To keep you safe from people like Castell, who has turned you against your family and taught you things that no innocent girl should know.’

  ‘That is not true,’ she insisted. ‘I am still a member of this family. I have never left it. But I wanted to know the truth about what has happened in this house and it is clear that you are not going to tell us what it is.’

  ‘You only think you want to know the truth,’ he said in a strange voice that was quite different from the commanding ducal tone she was used to. ‘Things were better off as they were.’

  He might have been right. She could not deny that knowing did put a barrier between them that had not been there before. ‘Better for you, perhaps,’ she said, not looking away. ‘But you cannot keep the rest of us safe from the facts for ever.’

  He sighed. ‘Perhaps I can’t. But for a while, at least, we will go back to how we used to be. Whatever has been going on stops from this moment forward. I have banned Castell from the house and scolded your sister for leaving you alone with him while she pursued that idiot, Clement. You will not be left unchaperoned in the future.’

  She greeted this news with silence, still unsure whether it upset her or not. She had already decided to part with David. Since there was no one else she wanted to see, the presence of a chaperon in future hardly mattered to her.

  When she did not answer him, he prompted, ‘Now, I would like to hear from you.’

  ‘Do you expect me to apologise for something?’ she said, tipping her head to the side. ‘Because I do not feel the least bit sorry.’

  ‘Foolish child,’ he snapped. ‘Don’t you understand that he used you? No matter what he claimed, he was only trying to get information about this family.’

  ‘About you,’ she corrected, pressing her advantage. ‘He thinks you are a murderer. I told him it was not true.’ She stared back at Hugh. ‘Am I right, or not?’

  ‘You are not supposed to ask such questions,’ he said.

  ‘That is no answer,’ she reminded him, studying the expression on his face. He did not look guilty as much as nervous.

  ‘You should not ask questions like that unless you are sure you will like the answer,’ he said.

  This was not an encouraging response at all. But there was still something in it that seemed off. ‘I know that you reached out to the keeper of an asylum,’ she said and watched his nervousness turn to shock. ‘Does madness run in our family? I have a right to know that, at least.’ Perhaps that was why he was so eager to keep them from marrying. He wanted to prevent the birth of another generation of mad Bethunes.

  ‘Do not concern yourself with that,’ he said hurriedly. ‘No one is going to an asylum.’

  ‘I gathered that,’ she said. ‘If it was going to happen, it would be done by now.’

  As she had pressed him on the subject, her brother’s complexion had gone from red with rage to a chalky white. Now he struggled to regain control of the conversation. ‘We are not here to talk about that. We were speaking of your indiscretion with the supposed dancing master.’

  ‘You have nothing to worry about on that account,’ she assured him, trying not to feel the ache in her heart. ‘When the time came to decide what was most important to me, I chose family, as I always knew I would. Anything that might have existed between Mr Castell and me is over.’

  ‘That is not what he led me to believe,’ Hugh said.

  ‘Really?’ With that one desperate word, she spoiled any attempt she’d been making to be brave or calm or adult and proved to her brother just how important David was to her.

  ‘But his opinion does not matter,’ Hugh reminded her with a cold smile. ‘You just said you were finished with him. You will not be seeing him again. Family is most important to you and your family does not plan on speaking of his business here ever again. Your time with him will be as if it has never happened.’

  The way her brother spoke, he expected her to erase the memories from her mind completely, allowing him to write the story he had chosen for them, where there were no murders, no gossip and no one from outside the house coming to spoil his lies with the truth. ‘No,’ she said, then stopped, surprised at the sound of her own voice.

  ‘No to what, precisely?’ he asked, unmoved.

  ‘What if I do not want to pretend that nothing has changed?’

  ‘You are still underage and I am still your guardian. You have little choice in the matter but to do as I say,’ he reminded her.

  ‘Your control does not extend to the contents of my mind,’ she reminded him. ‘Nor can you command my heart not to feel.’

  ‘Your heart,’ he scoffed.

  ‘At least I still have one,’ she snapped. ‘Unlike some people in this house.’

  For a moment, she had forgotten the token they had found in his bedroom and the fact that he might be suffering as much, or more, than any of them. But the depth of his suffering was there, in his eyes, just for a moment. Then it was replaced by his usual expression of cold, dictatorial control. ‘Your heart and mind are your own. Do as you wish with them as long as they do not lead your body into any more trouble. Do not think you can sneak away and prowl Bond Street unescorted as you have been doing. The careless men that were left to watch you when you went out of the house have been discharged and the next ones will be far more diligent.’

  ‘You cannot keep us imprisoned in this house for ever,’ she said.

  ‘Not for ever,’ he agreed. ‘But your recent behaviour supports my belief that you need to be restrained right now. When you have demonstrated that you will not use your freedom to seek ruin, perhaps I will give it to you. Until that time, we will leave the restrictions in place.’ He gestured towards the door to inform her that the interview was at an end.

  All in all, she’d have preferred the shouting and tears that her sister’s interview had contained. Liv might be crying now, but she would dry her face and she and Alister would find a way to meet, just as they always did.

  But she and David would not be so lucky. In their case, her brother had not wasted energy on anger. He had simply removed David from her life and doubled the guard to keep them apart. It had been her intention to do just as Hugh wanted. But now that she had no choice, she felt nothing but regret. The happiest time of her life was over and family obligation demanded that she pretend it had never happened.

  * * *

  David left the Scofield town house strangely, gloriously alive and more confused than he had ever been in his life. He had given the murderous Duke both reason and opportunity to end him. He had even goaded him towards violence.

  And the man who was supposedly given to mad fits of homicidal rage had not acted on any of his threats. He had offered money, of all things, signing the cheque in a smooth hand that showed no trace of excess emotion.

  For a time, David had expected that one of the Duke’s henchmen would follow him out of the house and do the job that the Duke would not. But apparently, he was not even worth that. The guard lounging at the corner of the house followed him only as far as the end of the street before returning to his post.

  For a confrontation with a notorious murderer, it had been most disappointing. It made no sense that the man would foster such an air of danger, only to be mild when violence was actually called for. Even David could agree that he deserved a sound beating for seducing the fellow’s beloved sister. But there had not been as much as a slap.

  There had also been no sign that the Duke feared an exposé on the front page of a newspaper, telling everything that David had learned. He had been completely unperturbed when he’d said, ‘I do not care what is said about me.’

  David replayed the words in his mind again and again, trying to remember each nuance of the inflection. Had there been the subtlest emphasis on the word me? That implied that he would rather the world th
ink he was a murderer than to reveal the actual truth of the matter, that there was someone far more interesting to base the story on.

  In any case, the Duke knew more about the matter than he was willing to admit. It was an interesting fact, but not particularly useful, even if David had not been banned from contacting the Scofield family. The interdict on his presence in the house was a minor inconvenience, at best. The only thing he valued inside the house was the woman he loved and it was unlikely that the Duke would have confided the truth to her.

  All the same, he wished he could ask her.

  And that was barely a half-truth. When he thought of Peg, he wished for many things, the least of which was a chance to talk about her brother. Every moment without her felt as though he was missing some fundamental part of himself and was surviving, rather than living.

  He doubted that Scofield meant to keep her chained in her room to prevent further indiscretions. David had but to bide his time and wait until she was allowed out to shop or visit the library. Then he would intercept her and find a way to persuade her that, whether the Duke was guilty or innocent, she could not possibly remain in his house after what they had done together.

  There was still the niggling problem that she had informed him she wanted nothing to do with him, ever again. He grinned. If his suspicions after today’s interview with the Duke turned out to be true, he might have to concede that she had been right all along. It remained to be seen whether she would still be angry with him if the article he wrote was not about her brother after all.

  For now, he needed to review his notes and find another source of information that could confirm or deny the fact that the Duke of Scofield was mad as a March hare. He prayed that today’s suspicions were true and the man was not as dangerous as he’d always thought. If Peg had been right all along, he owed her an apology. With it he would offer his hand and his heart. Then he would see if her feelings for him extended beyond a single night.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Just as Hugh had promised, the next day things were back to normal. Normal for the rest of the family, at least. Olivia was sitting in her chair in the morning room, reading a novel, and pretending that she was not plotting a way to marry Alister and escape her brother, the murderer.

  Hugh was in his study, or the library, or some other serious location, doing serious ducal things and pretending that he had not already killed two people and, at any time, might go mad and kill again.

  And she...

  Peg was newly initiated into the reality that the rest of her family had shared for years. Until a short time ago, she had been floating gently in the illusion that there was nothing wrong with her life other than a few gossipy neighbours and a brother who was far too strict to allow a young girl to have the fun she deserved. She had been an infant, then. Now, she was newborn and growing rapidly into a jaded adult.

  Though she had insisted to David that she must stay with them, now that she was here, she could not manage to trust anyone in this house. They’d all lied to her, keeping her in the dark about the social ruin that might fall on them when David, or someone like him, finally uncovered the truth.

  When that happened, they would have to see if Alister was really serious enough about Olivia to marry her, no matter what. Peg suspected not. If he was truly enamoured, he’d have married her already. There was already something that prevented him. In Peg’s current mood, she suspected it was her own presence that was the problem.

  Liv’s plan had been a marriage that came complete with a troublesome little sister who would need to be fed and clothed and launched. Alister had always seemed pleasant enough when she’d spoken to him. But there was a certain reserve in his interactions with her that made her wonder if he truly enjoyed her company or was secretly hoping that someone else would marry her so he might never have the responsibility of treating her as family.

  If that was true, it was a shame for all of them that she had not run off with David. It would have created a great scandal, but it would have removed an impediment to Liv’s future happiness.

  That would leave Hugh with no one to care about but himself. It would serve him right. After listening to him deny the family problems and insist that things could ever be normal, she was considerably less sorry for him than she had been. Either he had been lying through his teeth and stalling for time, or he did not understand how devastating David’s article might be.

  And though she did not want to, she missed David, as well. The morning seemed interminably long now that she knew she would not see him. Nor could she sneak out and go to him, for Hugh had been true to his word and hired extra guards around the house to prevent clandestine meetings with Alister and to make sure that the faux dancing master did not attempt to return.

  The silence in the house was driving her mad. It was probably for the best that she did not see David again, since his plan to disgrace the family had not changed. But she could not really fault him for it. Her brother deserved the justice he was about to get. As a member of his family, it was her destiny to share in the punishment.

  How unfair was it that the only source of hope and comfort she might have through the upcoming troubles would be the man that revealed them to the world? Who would she talk to when the silence of this house became too much to bear? How could she live without the feel of his hand, the touch of his lips, the heat of his body against hers?

  And what would she do if the night in bed had created a child? She had been quite sure at the time that a proposal would render such problems moot. Now he was lost to her and she might have to face her foolish mistake alone.

  But that had happened when she was sure Hugh was innocent. Despite what they had found out so far, when she talked to him, there was no sign of hidden madness, or even a bad case of nerves. Could he really have been speaking of a friend when he wrote to the asylum for help?

  Maybe there was still something she could find that made the current situation less damning, or at least easier to understand. If David’s plan had been to find information inside this house, there was no reason that she could not keep looking on her own. She knew the people in it far better than he did. She might recognise an important detail that he had missed.

  She looked to her sister, who was staring out the window, twisting a handkerchief in her hands.

  ‘Olivia, how much do you remember about the night Father died?’

  ‘We do not speak of that night,’ her sister said quickly.

  ‘But why do we not?’ she countered. ‘It is because Hugh will not allow it. And given the rumours circulating around this house, his word may be the last one we can trust.’

  ‘You have always been his staunchest defender,’ her sister said, surprised. ‘What has changed?’

  ‘Let us say it is more important for me to know the truth than it used to be,’ she said. ‘Now, tell me what you remember.’

  ‘I was not here for much of it,’ she admitted, embarrassed. ‘But I remember Father and Hugh arguing at dinner.’ She paused. ‘I cannot remember the reason for it. But they argued so often back then that I’d got used to ignoring it.’

  ‘And after dinner?’ Peg prompted.

  ‘I went to my room and changed. Then I met Alister in the garden,’ she replied, with a blush. ‘We spoke for a little more than an hour.’

  ‘You talked,’ Peg said, with a knowing nod.

  ‘It is not what you think,’ Liv said hurriedly. ‘He was a perfect gentleman.’

  ‘Of course,’ Peg agreed, thinking that Alister would do much better for himself if he were more of a rake and less honour bound. A new thought hit her. ‘And when you meet Alister in the garden, why is it that I never hear Caesar barking? It seems that it takes nothing at all to upset that dog to a frenzy.’

  ‘When we are going to be in the garden, I take him a treat so that he does not pester us,’ she said. ‘Usually a bone from the kitchen.
It is enough to keep him occupied for hours.’

  That, at least, explained why the dog did not alert the household to an attacker from the yard. He was already too busy with the bone Liv had given him earlier. She made a mental note to tell David, should she ever see him again. ‘And what happened after you got back to the house?’

  ‘I went to the library to get a book,’ she said. ‘I stayed there and read until it was time for bed.’ Her brow furrowed as if she was trying to remember. ‘At midnight, I think I went to the study to say goodnight to Father.’

  ‘You think?’ Peg said, confused.

  ‘Why else would I have gone to the study?’ Liv said, as if trying to remember. ‘There was a scream. Later, I realised that it was me screaming and not someone else. I was standing over Father’s desk, screaming. He was slumped over. I could not see the knife, but there was so much blood...’ Her voice trailed away and her eyes went vacant as her mind became trapped in the past.

  Peg reached for her, hugging her as her shoulders shuddered with suppressed sobs. When she managed to regain some control, Liv said, ‘This is why we do not speak of that night. I found the body. Then Hugh was there, leading me from the room, calling for the housekeeper to give me a brandy.’

  ‘I am sorry that I asked you,’ Peg said softly.

  But now that she was remembering Liv could not seem to stop talking. ‘He was so calm. It was as if he wasn’t surprised. He did not look at Father at all. Just at me.’

  ‘You do not have to think about it any more,’ Peg assured her. She had given more than enough information already. There was no need for her to dig for more.

  Liv’s version of events had been very similar to her own. The timing was right, as was the sound of screaming, which she now knew was Liv discovering the body.

  She paused, puzzled. Something was almost right, but not exactly right. She closed her eyes, forcing her mind back to that night, trying to remember the details. She had been in her room, reading, when she had been disturbed by the first scream. And that had been what it was: a single, piercing shriek. Then, nothing.

 

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