Her heart lurched in her chest. Perhaps this was it, the night when she’d have the chance to return. Except if she did, it would be without James. So how could she? Leaving him here and building a life without him no longer seemed possible. And yet, to remain here…
She pushed her concerns aside and ran her fingers absently over the lacquered window sill. It wobbled slightly beneath her touch, as if an imperfection prevented it from lying completely flat. Instinctively, Jane pushed down a little bit firmer and watched as it happened again. Clearly the wood had come loose and was merely balancing in place.
An odd idea crossed her mind. Surely not. And yet, she’d always dreamed of finding a hidden compartment and weren’t old houses renowned for such things? Determined to find out, she lifted the sill and set it aside, revealing a space in the wall.
Excitement filled her as she leaned forward to peer inside, unsure of what exactly she might be about to find, if anything at all. And then her heart shuddered as a small, leather-bound book came into view. Jane reached inside and pulled it out, turning it over in her hands before opening it with trembling fingers. A neat script greeted her on the first page, stating simply that this was the property of Betsy Andrews.
Jane crossed to her bed and sank down onto the mattress, then flipped the page and started to read while pure exhilaration flooded her veins. Because this was no simple book. It was Betsy’s diary. And if the maid had known something about her mistress – a detail that might have led to her death – perhaps she’d written about it somewhere here for Jane to find.
Chapter 14
“Have you told your mother you and I have no intention of forming an attachment?” James asked Lady Elise while taking a tour of the ballroom with her. It was the least he could do to appease his mother and also ensured she would leave him alone for a while.
“Not yet. She is very eager to unite our families.” Lady Elise chuckled. “Telling her there is no hope of such a thing happening will be…difficult.”
“You think it might be easier if you have another eligible suitor vying for your hand?”
A spark of mischief lit her eyes. “Why Camden! How well you know me already.”
He laughed, earning looks of approval from not only his mother, but from Rockwell and Lady Rockwell too. “I fear your brother might be disappointed as well. He and I have been friends so long, I believe he hoped we could be more.”
“Yes, well, he will simply have to get over it.” She placed her hand over his and leaned slightly closer. “I realize Harrington intended to marry your sister and is still mourning her loss, but perhaps—”
“I would advise against it,” James told her abruptly. Noting her stunned surprise, he hastened to say, “What he feels goes much deeper than he is willing to show in public. It could be years before he recovers from his loss and longer still before he is ready to consider courting another woman.”
“How tragic,” Lady Elise murmured. “Your sister was lucky to have known such love.”
James bit his tongue and merely nodded while guiding Lady Elise toward the refreshment table. Another glass of champagne was clearly in order, and once he had it in hand, he downed it swiftly before reaching for another.
“I plan on getting some fresh air,” Rockwell said as he sidled up next to his sister. “Care to join me, Camden?”
“If Lady Elise can spare me,” James said. A brief escape from the ballroom would be most welcome.
Lady Elise smiled. “I need to visit the retiring room anyway,” she said, “so by all means, please go ahead.”
Promising to dance with her when he returned, James followed Rockwell through the French doors and out into the cool evening air. He glanced up, expecting to see the sky filled with stars. Instead, grey clouds obscured his view. They hung in clumps, promising a heavy downpour later, and all he could think of was Jane. He ought to let her know, just in case.
“A cigar?” Rockwell held one toward him.
“No thank you.” He watched Rockwell clip his and light it. “I am sorry your stay here could not have been better.”
Rockwell choked on a deep inhale and smoke sputtered out of his mouth as he coughed. “Seriously, Camden. Your sister died and you feel the need to apologize?” He shook his head. “I only wish I could have done more to help you through it. Are you any closer to discovering who did it?”
Deciding not to reveal anything until he was certain, James shook his head. “No. I fear the case may go unsolved.” He puffed out a breath and sipped his champagne. “If only the bloody magistrate had not been away on business.”
“Each district ought to have several, for situations such as these.”
“I agree.”
A bit of silence settled between them before Rockwell said, “I hope you and my sister can form an attachment. There is no one I would rather welcome into the family than you, Camden. You are an excellent friend. The best, in fact, which is why I regret having to leave here in another couple of days.” He drew on his cigar and puffed out a silky plume of smoke. “Business calls, however. I cannot put it off any longer.”
“A title does not come without great responsibility. I understand you completely, Rockwell, and am simply grateful for the time you were able to spare.”
He nodded. “Perhaps you and your mother will come to visit me in the autumn? We could even spend Christmas together, if you like.”
“I will let you know,” James said, hoping he wouldn’t be bringing just his mother but Jane as well, if he chose to accept the invitation.
A drop of water fell on his hand and another dotted his forehead. “I believe it’s starting to rain.” A tiny flash of light illuminated the sky, followed by a clap of thunder. “If you will excuse me.” He had to tell Jane that this might be her chance to leave, perhaps her only chance ever, and as much as he hoped she would stay, he didn’t want her to have regrets.
But as he turned with the intention of going to fetch her, he found her standing but a few feet away with a book clutched between her hands. She glanced swiftly at Rockwell, acknowledging his presence before locking her gaze with James’s.
“We were wrong,” she said as she stepped toward him. “Completely and utterly wrong. From the very beginning.”
“What do you mean?” Another drop fell on his cheek.
She stared at him, seemingly heedless of the wind picking up around them and of the clouds threatening to split open over their heads. “We made an assumption, James.”
“James?” Rockwell voiced his surprise over Jane’s use of his given name.
“What assumption?” James asked, ignoring his friend who would only tease him about his lack of control where his maid was concerned. The man would laugh if James told him he’d fallen in love with her.
“That your sister was killed first.” Jane took a step forward. She looked at him as if he was all that mattered, as if no one else existed, and it was only the two of them here on the terrace about to be drenched in a downpour. “We believed Betsy was killed because she witnessed the crime and had to be silenced, because we found her second rather than first. But what if…what if that wasn’t the case? What if it was the other way around?”
James stared back at Jane as more droplets fell, splattering against them with increasing frequency. “Then we were looking for motive in all the wrong places, considering all the wrong suspects.”
“Exactly.” A flash of lightning zigzagged across the sky, and a deafening boom followed as rain spilled over their heads.
“I’m going inside,” Rockwell said, “before I get any wetter.”
As if awoken by his voice, Jane pointed at Rockwell. “You did it,” she said, halting him in his tracks.
“What are you talking about?” he asked as he turned toward her with a flicker of anger in his eyes. “How dare you make accusations without any proof?”
“I have this,” Jane said as she wrapped her arms tight around the book to protect it from getting wet. Water streaked over her fac
e, plastering her hair to her forehead and making her clothes cling tightly to her body. “It’s Betsy’s diary, and it’s all the proof we need.”
“What do you mean?” James asked.
“Camden,” Rockwell grit between clenched teeth. “You cannot seriously be considering listening to what this woman has to say?”
“Stay where you are,” James warned his friend before repeating his question to Jane. “What do you mean?”
“I mean Betsy and Rockwell were involved.” She gave James a look that said it all. “More than that, Betsy realized she was pregnant by him and wrote of her intention to confront him about it and—”
“The girl was obsessed, Camden,” Rockwell insisted. “What she wrote about me in her diary has no bearing on reality because it is nothing but fiction.”
“Apparently, she wanted him to help support and care for the child,” Jane continued, “noting that she intended to go to her mistress for help if he refused to do so.”
“Is this true?” James asked. “Or is this made up as well?”
Rockwell glared, his body outlined in an eerie relief as another bolt of lightning flashed in the sky. “Betsy chased after me from dawn until dusk from the moment I got here. If that got her pregnant, then this is the first I am hearing of it.”
“So you deny it?” James asked, hoping to God what he feared wasn’t true and that the man who’d been his friend since childhood was not responsible for killing two women just to avoid facing the repercussions.
“Of course I do,” Rockwell yelled. He waved a hand in Jane’s direction. “And the fact you would even consider believing such rubbish from her instead of trusting me is galling! Just goes to show the power she wields over you, a mere maid controlling an earl. It’s disgusting!”
“And yet,” Jane said, her voice carrying with unencumbered clarity, “I know you bedded her. To suppose she got with child—”
“Is possible. Yes. But to assume it was mine is a stretch.”
James’s jaw dropped. “So you did bed her then and discuss her being pregnant?”
Rockwell’s shoulders tensed. “She wanted money which I was hardly about to give her.”
“But it was more than that. Was it not?” A chill swept over James, and it wasn’t because of the rain. “She threatened to tell Tatiana who would likely have come to me for advice. Worse, there was the chance Tatiana wasn’t the only person Betsy would mention this to. Word gets around, gossip spreads, and the scandal of it all could have ruined your entire family’s reputation.”
“Many men survive having by-blows,” Rockwell said.
“Yes,” James agreed. “After they are married and the incident poses no risk to their prospects.” He stared back at Rockwell through the sheet of falling rain. Fists clenched at either side and his evening clothes soaked all the way to his skin, he willed himself to ask the necessary question. “Did you kill Betsy and Tatiana?”
Rockwell heaved a large breath and expelled it, his eyes locked with James’s.
“Did you?” James repeated.
Another pause followed while rain drummed against the large granite slabs beneath their feet. “I never meant to hurt Tatiana,” he eventually said, “but she must have seen me carrying Betsy out to the stables, because she followed me there. And then when she realized what I had done, she ran.”
“And then what?” James asked while nausea pushed at his throat. As difficult as it was, he needed to know what had happened that evening. He owed it to his sister.
“I chased her, but couldn’t quite catch her until she arrived on the terrace. Everything after that was messy, unplanned. I feared she’d bring attention so I knew I had to act quickly.” Softening his voice, he quietly said, “I reached for my knife, silencing her with one swift stroke.” The words barely left his lips before James launched himself at him, hands slipping through water as he took the earl down in a tangle of limbs.
James pulled his arm back, adding momentum as he thrust his fist squarely into Rockwell’s face. “Murderous bastard!” He punched him again while Rockwell pushed at his shoulder with one hand and tried to shove him aside with the other.
They rolled sideways and James’s elbow struck the ground with a thwack. “Aaargh!” He grit his teeth, the pain preventing him from avoiding the punch he received seconds later. It cracked his nose, producing a warm trickle against his cheek as his blood mingled with the rain. “I’ll see you hang for this!”
“The devil you will,” Rockwell spat. His arm pulled back, and James prepared for another punch to the face. Instead, he caught a flicker of something shiny and silver and instinctively reached up to push his thumb straight into Rockwell’s left eye.
The blade he’d only glimpsed for a second slashed past his face, so close it made the air hum in response to the movement.
“No!”
Jane’s scream rang in James’s ears as he shifted sideways, struggling to grab hold of Rockwell’s wrist before he tried to stab him again. Finding purchase, he latched on hard to the other earl’s arm and shoved him back. But Rockwell’s position gave him the advantage, and he quickly regained his balance, coming at James again while rain splashed all around them and lightning brightened the sky overhead.
Gaining some space James pulled back his arm and punched Rockwell again, making him falter. The blade missed its mark, disappearing once more from James’s line of view. Pushing back, James rolled Rockwell onto his back, dominating the fight at the same exact moment the world cracked open.
James stared, unable to tear his gaze from the distorted scenery or from Jane who stood so close, it would take but a couple of steps for her to vanish through the tear that linked their worlds for a moment. “Go,” he yelled, knowing he probably wouldn’t make it in time to join her. Not with Rockwell still clinging to him. And not when he had to make sure Tatiana’s murderer got the punishment he deserved. “I love you, Jane. I always will. Now go!”
But to his dismay she screamed and charged toward him with anger and fear carved into her face. “Wha—”
She fell on him and on Rockwell, her arms winding their way around James as she tumbled down over him, pushing him fiercely aside. The air was wrenched from his lungs as he fell back against the wet terrace. It took a moment to adjust to what had happened and once he did, dread assailed him like a serpent wrapping itself around his body and crushing his chest.
“Jane!” Her much smaller body fought against Rockwell. With both hands she gripped his arm to ward off the blade while he made a grab for her throat and squeezed.
Her eyes bulged and James’s heart exploded. It was as if time slowed to a crawl while he pushed himself from the ground, praying to reach her in time as the horror played out before him. Jane loosened her hold on the arm that would thrust the blade forward and instinctively clasped Rockwell’s hand in an effort to pry his fingers away from her throat. But he was larger, more powerful, and his eyes blazed with murderous intent.
“Rockwell!” James shot to his feet and sprang forward while forcing momentum into the fist he directed toward Rockwell’s head.
The blade rose and descended toward Jane’s chest, disappearing from view as Jane lurched to one side, just as James’s fist crashed against Rockwell’s skull. The thud reverberated up his arm in a dull and bone-deep ache, the sound of his knuckles crunching drowning out Rockwell’s grunt and Jane’s strangled scream.
Footsteps clicked and voices shouted, and James vaguely sensed Harrington’s and Thompson’s presence. But whatever they were saying was lost to him as he struggled to hear proof of life from Jane who’d collapsed on top of her assailant.
“Jane.” He pulled her into his arms while someone else dragged Rockwell away from her.
James pressed his lips to her cheek and prayed. And still he listened while he murmured her name again and again and again. Until he heard it, the tiniest whisper of breath, confirming she lived. Christ! Tears welled in his eyes as he pulled her closer, not caring about the rain or th
e cold but simply needing to hold her.
“He stabbed you.” It was all he could say without choking.
She coughed and inhaled with a shuddering wheeze. “No.” She shifted a little and groaned. “It’s just a scratch.” She coughed again. “His grip on my throat almost ended me though. I’m glad you overpowered him when you did, or we probably wouldn’t be talking right now.”
He expelled a shuddering breath. To think how easily he could have lost her made his lungs constrict against the tightening of his chest. “You missed your chance though, Jane.” Relief and regret warred inside him as he acknowledged the magnitude of her choice. “You could have gone home.”
“No,” she murmured, so faintly he could barely hear her. “Rockwell was going to kill you, and since I couldn’t let that happen, I chose the future I want for myself. The one that includes you.”
Speechless, he pressed a kiss to her brow and inhaled her fragrance. It was stronger now, accentuated by the rain. “We should get you inside before you catch a chill. Influenza can be especially unpleasant.”
“I honestly don’t know how you manage without a pharmacy nearby.”
“A pharmacy?”
“I’m sure I’ll figure it out though,” she added as he stood and gathered her up in his arms. He wasn’t really sure what she was talking about, so he paid extra attention while carrying her past his mother and Lady Rockwell who both looked as though they’d just seen him walk out of hell. Which he supposed they had, in a way.
“Not now,” he said when his mother opened her mouth. He marched right past her while Lady Elise hurried along beside him to help with opening doors. “Please tell Margaret and a couple of footmen to ready a bath,” he said when they arrived upstairs. “We need to get her out of these clothes as quickly as possible.”
Without questioning him, Lady Elise disappeared from the room. It was the same one Jane had been allocated the night she’d arrived and in James’s opinion it suited her far better than Betsy’s smaller and more modest chamber ever had.
The Girl Who Stepped Into The Past Page 19
