by Alyssa Drake
Chapter Fourteen
Burying her face into Mr. Reid’s shoulders, Daphne shuddered, swallowing the terror which flowed from her lips. It could have been her! What if she had happened upon the murder while it was being committed? Was it possible Mr. Morris still lurked nearby?
“Who is it, Mr. Reid?” she mumbled against his chest.
“Why did she scream?” Alana huffed, running toward them, the gun clutched in her right hand. She placed her hands on her hips, drawing in a ragged breath.
Mr. Reid, his arms tightly wound around Daphne, jerked his head at the barn. “We discovered a gruesome addition to Mr. Morris’ stables.”
Leaning around them, Alana gasped. Raising the rifle, she tiptoed into the barn, stopping just at the edge of the shadows. Kneeling beside the body, she lifted the woman’s arm. “It’s Mrs. Clark.”
“May I set you down?” asked Mr. Reid. Daphne nodded. He placed her carefully on a milk stool, carelessly discarded beside the barn and squeezed her hand. “Would you mind waiting a moment longer? I will need to return with Benjamin and Edward, but I’d like to look around before we leave.”
Daphne nodded again, her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth.
“Would you like the rifle?”
“I cannot shoot one.” She offered him a tight smile, shooing him toward the barn. “I shall be fine for several minutes.”
Darkening to burned wood, his brown eyes blazed. His fingers constricted around her hand once more in a comforting gesture, then he released her, vanishing into the yawning mouth of the barn. Low murmurs slithered from the dark recesses of the building, emanating from Mr. Reid and Alana. Daphne could only discern every third word, but she knew they were discussing the horrific injuries to Mrs. Clark’s body. Her eyes slid over the courtyard, an icy shiver rippling down her spine. It felt as though someone was watching her. Rubbing her arms for warmth, she leaned forward, craning her head around the doorway.
Mrs. Clark’s upper arm came into view—deep gashes sliced through her skin as though she had been filleted like a fish. Turning away, Daphne pressed her hand to her mouth, gagging. How could someone do that to a person? She had worked for Mr. Morris for nearly twenty years. Did he care nothing for loyalty?
A twig cracked in the greenery across from her. Daphne’s head snapped up, her eyes scanning the bushes. Shadow, who was grazing nearby, twitched, his ears perking at the sound. Daphne stared at the bushes, pressing her trembling body against the side of the barn. Whatever Mr. Reid thought about her persona, he was quite mistaken when it came to bravery. She couldn’t stand up to her own mother, how could anyone expect her to fight off a man as dangerous as Mr. Morris? She hoped Alana’s gun was faster.
Snorting, Shadow ducked his head again, pulling out another clump of grass. He was mid-chew when his ears twitched again. Lifting his head, Shadow whinnied and reared back, kicking his front hooves. Daphne leaned back to avoid him, falling off the milk stool. Stamping a circle around her, Shadow jerked his head, taking several steps toward the main road.
“Stop!” Daphne rolled to her side, lunging at the reins, her fingers brushing over the loop, but it ripped free of her hand. Shadow whinnied, then took off at full gallop, bolting down the drive just as Alana and Mr. Reid emerged from the barn.
“What happened?” asked Mr. Reid, rushing to her side. He righted the milk stool and set Daphne atop it again.
“I heard a noise.”
Alana rolled her eyes. “A noise?”
“Shadow heard it too,”—she gestured at the greenery—“he stopped grazing and stared at that spot in the center, then ran off.”
Marching over to the bushes, Alana poked the barrel of the gun into the center of the shrubs, peeling apart the branches. “There’s nothing here.”
“I think it best I escort both you ladies back to the estate.” Grabbing the barn door, Mr. Reid swung it closed and latched it. Returning to Daphne, he lifted her from the milk stool without asking permission.
“I am quite capable of walking, Mr. Reid.” She pushed against his shoulder.
He snorted. “Is that similar to the argument you gave Aidan before you fell from the horse?”
“Possibly.” She folded her arms in annoyance.
Laughing, Mr. Reid spun, marching down the lane. “I would like to ask my next question.”
“Did you not promise me an extended riding lesson to pay for the previous questions which you asked on credit?”
“This is an extended lesson.”
“Walking back after falling from a horse is a lesson?”
“Of course.” Mr. Reid smiled and winked. “It’s an important one too.”
“I am amazed you got on the horse, Miss Clemens. Thomas could never convince me to ride.” Alana walked beside them, the rifle barrel leaning against her right shoulder.
Daphne turned in surprise. “I thought you weren’t afraid of anything.”
“My dearest Miss Clemens, rumors of my daring are quite exaggerated.” Alana laughed.
“Miss Clemens has been modeling herself after you and Miss Hastings for several days now,” Mr. Reid murmured, earning a scowl from Daphne. He chuckled.
“What have you done?” asked Alana, curiosity—and a bit of pride—flashing across her face.
“Aside from riding on and falling off a horse, I have traversed a log, tumbled into a river—”
“Descended a trellis,” interrupted Mr. Reid, darkness flashing in his eyes.
Daphne grimaced. “Descended a trellis… twice.” She felt Mr. Reid spasm at the admission. His black gaze dropped to her face.
“Twice?”
Biting her lip, Daphne nodded.
“Did Asher catch you both times?”
Daphne glanced away. Mr. Reid drew her face back to his, arching an eyebrow.
“Yes.”
“I suppose I owe him my gratitude.”
“You fall off a lot of things,” said Alana with a grin.
“It has been alleged, I am quite clumsy.”
“Are you?” Alana stopped walking and turned, placing a kind hand on Miss Clemens’ arm.
“To be honest, each time I fell, it was due to someone else’s involvement.”
“Ah, so Aidan is responsible.” Mr. Reid shot a look at Alana.
“No.” Daphne leaned into Mr. Reid’s gaze, blocking his smug grin. “I am at fault. Mr. Flannery would not have been standing so far away had I not commanded he move.”
“Commanded?” Snickering, Mr. Reid resumed his slow pace. “I doubt you could command anyone to do anything.”
Daphne bristled. Placing her hands on his shoulder, she shoved him hard. He glanced down in surprise. She puffed into a ball of indignation. “Put me down this instant!”
Shock exploded on Mr. Reid’s face. His mouth popped open. Wordlessly, he set her on the ground. Limping over to Alana, Daphne slid her arm through Alana’s. They turned to Mr. Reid with similar smirks. “Would you like to correct your statement?”
Inclining his head, Mr. Reid waved for Daphne to continue forward. She took two steps and stumbled, wrenching her ankle in a carriage wheel rut. Collapsing with a groan, she grimaced as Mr. Reid appeared at her side, crouching beside her.
“Do you still want to walk?” His whispered words brushed over her ear.
“I am debating whether I want to give you the satisfaction of carrying me.”
His mouth twitched, struggling to keep the smile from his face. “If I swear to say nothing more on the subject, will you stop this foolishness and allow me to carry you?”
“Swearing again?” Daphne giggled, despite the pain radiating through her leg. “I shall have quite the extensive vocabulary if this continues.”
“Thomas!” Shock punctuated Alana’s interruption. “You are teaching Miss Clemens to swear? It is a wonder Aunt Abigail allowed her to spend any time with you.”
With a grin, Mr. Reid slid his arms under Daphne, lifting her again. “To be fair, she has been learning most of her inappropriate voc
abulary from Miss Hastings.”
“That, I do believe.” Alana laughed, falling into step beside Mr. Reid. “Miss Clemens, did I hear you don’t know how to shoot a gun?”
“That is true. It was one of those activities which Mother deemed inappropriate, like horseback riding.”
“If Thomas doesn’t object, I propose we change our afternoon tea party into a shooting party.”
“Can we do that?”
“Of course.” Alana shifted her rifle to the opposite shoulder. “I am certain Miss Hastings will join us as well; she is an exceptional shooter.”
“Do you hunt?” Shock dripped from Daphne’s lips.
“No.” Alana shook her head, vehemently. “I don’t enjoy the sport.”
“Much to her brother’s disappointment,” added Mr. Reid. He clicked his tongue, his eyes flicking to Alana. “Aidan will never win the Annual Hunt without your help.”
Alana glared at him. “Aidan knows my position on killing for amusement.”
“What do you shoot?”
“Hay bales.”
Daphne laughed. “That cannot be much of a sport.”
“It is more difficult than you would believe.” Alana held up her hand, her fingers rounded into a small circle. “Imagine hitting a target this large.”
“A hay bale is significantly larger than that.”
“That is true; however, the rotten apple that rests atop the hay bale is not.”
“You can shoot an apple?” Daphne gasped. She twisted in Mr. Reid’s arms, staring at Alana. “Would you be able to teach me how to aim that well?”
“Certainly.” They rounded the bend, approaching the drive leading to the Flannery property. “Thomas, as you need to collect Benjamin and Edward, may I suggest leaving Miss Clemens and me—”
“No.” Mr. Reid tightened his hold on Daphne. “Miss Clemens is my responsibility.”
“I am not.” Daphne placed her hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention. She put a finger to his lips, stifling his argument. “I am responsible for my own decisions. We”—she gestured between herself and Alana—“are more than capable of walking—”
“Limping,” corrected Mr. Reid.
Daphne rolled her eyes. “Limping down the drive to her father’s house. Mr. Morris will not attack us on this property.”
“Miss Clemens,” he protested, adjusting his hold.
She shook her head, crossing her arms. “There is nothing you can say to change my mind.”
Mr. Reid arched an eyebrow. “That sounds like a challenge.”
“Trespassers!” The thick brogue vibrated through the mid-morning, disturbing the birds chirping in a nearby tree.
“Da!” Mr. Flannery’s chastisement followed. They appeared in the distance, at the base of the rise, Mr. Flannery closing rapidly on his father.
Alana chuckled, turning to Mr. Reid with a grin. “An armed escort; you could not ask for a better solution.”
Mr. Reid’s eyes narrowed. “I shall inform Miss Hastings of your invitation.”
“Thank you.” Alana waited a beat. “You have to put Miss Clemens down.”
“Alana!” Mr. Flannery, having ripped the rifle away from his father, waved, approaching them rapidly. His eyes jumped to Alana. “Why are you still awake at this hour?”
“You were sleeping,” she replied, glaring at Mr. Reid.
“Aidan.” Mr. Reid set Daphne down next to Alana and stepped forward. “I owe you an apology. Miss Clemens has adamantly refuted the claim you were responsible for her injury.”
Glancing at Daphne, Aidan bowed low. “How can I repay you for your kindness?”
She blushed. “There is no need, Mr. Flannery. I was merely speaking the truth.”
“You are too modest. Thomas’ mind is not easily swayed. How did you manage to change it?”
The pink hue coloring her cheeks exploded into hot flames. “I issued him a command,” she murmured, dropping her eyes.
“I am impressed.” Mr. Flannery’s head twisted toward Mr. Reid, who had cycled through several shades of emotion. “What are the three of you doing this fine morning?”
“I am teaching Miss Clemens to shoot,” replied Alana, leaning forward, “And Thomas is headed to the Westwood Estate to handle an unfortunate situation.”
“Which is?” Mr. Flannery’s eyes slid back to Mr. Reid.
“Miss Clemens discovered Mrs. Clark’s body in the barn on Mr. Morris’ country estate.” Mr. Reid’s voice held no emotion.
“Why was Miss Clemens alone on Mr. Morris’ property?” Mr. Flannery’s head whipped between Alana and Mr. Reid.
“Her horse ran off,” replied Mr. Reid. His voice held a note of reluctance at admitting the fact.
“I thought you couldn’t ride?”
“I cannot.”
“Yet you managed to arrive at Morris’ country estate?”
“I fell off.”
“You fell off…” Mr. Flannery’s gaze flicked to Mr. Reid. “Where was your tutor?”
“Chasing down a runaway horse,” snapped Mr. Reid.
Mr. Flannery snorted, glee flashing in his eyes. He raised his fists. “Thomas, I have a grievance to settle with you”—he bowed toward Daphne—“on behalf of Miss Clemens.”
“Please, Mr. Flannery…” Daphne hobbled forward. “This is nonsense.”
Alana grabbed her elbow. Daphne turned with a questioning look. “Leave them be, Miss Clemens. They need to work this out.” The sound of flesh on flesh echoed softly. Alana’s eyes flicked to the left, a grin splitting her face. “You should have ducked.”
Daphne was unsure to which man she issued her taunt.
Tucking both rifles under her arm, Alana wrapped her free hand around Daphne’s waist, helping her shuffle toward the house. Daphne craned her head, squinting at the scuffling shapes of Mr. Reid and Mr. Flannery as she descended the hill.
“Are you not concerned?” she asked as they faded from view.
“You don’t have brothers, do you?” Alana laughed.
“One sister; Mr. Shirely’s wife.”
“Oh… I see your predicament.”
“My predicament?” Daphne glanced sideways.
“I may have been abroad for many years, but I can still recognize adoration when I see it.” Alana held up her hand. “I have no interest in Thomas. Our connection was between two people who no longer exist. I am only here to explain to him why I left; I owe him that.” She looked upward, her gaze on the white clouds dotting the sky. “Now, if I understand this correctly, Miss Randall is the cousin of your sister’s husband?”
“Yes.”
“And she has an affinity for Thomas?” Alana lowered her eyes, locking them on Daphne.
“She asked him for protection from Mr. Morris.”
“He refused?”
“Yes.”
“Thomas is skittish when marriage is involved—my fault entirely. I know very little about Miss Randall; however, I know the Shirely family quite well, and from my experience, tenacity is one of their worst traits. I think we should enlist Samantha’s assistance in this matter.”
“What matter?”
“Convincing Thomas to propose to you.” Alana winked and danced down the drive.
Daphne’s stomach rolled. She clutched her waist, bending over and gagging. Dropping to her knees, she dry-heaved in the long grass. It was heartbreaking enough to be rejected by Mr. Reid, but rejected with an audience…
“Miss Clemens!” Alana raced back. “Are you ill?”
Daphne swiped her hand across her sweaty forehead and stared up at Alana. “I think we should postpone our lesson.”
“What happened?” exclaimed Aidan, appearing beside them on the drive, bruises and cuts covering his face.
“I should ask you the same question, dear brother.” Alana’s eyes flicked over him. “Does Thomas look worse than you?”
“Unfortunately, no.” Aidan forced a smile, wincing. His gaze dropped to Daphne. “Is it your ankle?”
Daphne shook her head, gagging again. She pressed her hand to her mouth. “I need to lie down.”
“I will take her.” Mr. Flannery glanced at his sister, an apology in his eyes. “Do you mind watching Da for a bit longer?”
Alana shook her head, answering him with a tired smile. “As you are doing Miss Clemens a favor…”
“Thank you.” Sliding his arms under Daphne, Mr. Flannery hoisted her from the ground. His blue eyes stared at her earnestly. “Promise you will not vomit on me.”
“I will try.” She wrapped her arms around his neck as he turned toward Westwood Estate. A line of blood trickled down the side of his face. Extracting a handkerchief, she pressed it to the cut.
His eyes dropped to her face. “I suppose you want to know why I challenged Thomas.”
“As long as you and Mr. Reid have known each other, I am certain there are numerous complaints which have built up between you.”
“That is quite a diplomatic description.” A half-smile pulled at his lips. “We grew up together—Benjamin, Asher, Thomas, Edward, and me—all quite close in age. We made a pack as boys that no man would attempt to woo another man’s sister.”
“Alana and Miss Hastings?”
Mr. Flannery nodded. “It was Thomas who broke the pact first, proposing to Alana on her seventeenth birthday.”
Curiosity burned in Daphne. Normally, she wouldn’t be so inquisitive, but in this case, she couldn’t stop the words bursting out of her mouth. “Do you know why Alana left the evening that Mr. Reid proposed?”
“I do,” he grimaced.
“Miss Clemens!”
Daphne’s head spun around. “Miss Randall, good morning. What a pleasant surprise to run into you. Are you taking a stroll?”
“I am. But,”—Miss Randall’s eyes raked over Daphne—“have you injured yourself again?”
“I fell off a horse.”
“The same horse? That seems like quite a dangerous activity. Perhaps you should forgo it in the future.” Her violet gaze skated over Mr. Flannery. She offered him a winning smile. “Who is this delightful gentleman who has come to your rescue?”
“Mr. Flannery. He lives next door with his father and sister.” Daphne adjusted her hands, loosening her grip around his neck.
