But Jem was standing just a few feet behind her, and Win had Julia with him, and it was too late to take back her own stupidity anyway.
Chapter Seventeen
Chiefly the mould of a man’s fortune is in his own hands.
—Francis Bacon
Lina was silent on the walk home, too downcast to trade small talk with Jem.
Arriving at the dower house, she discovered Silas Battersby packing up his tools in the front hall. With the new plaster set and drying, he’d re-installed the woodwork in her absence.
Lina took off her cloak and handed it to Jem to hang on its peg near the door. “Good day, Mr. Battersby.” She admired the work he’d done. “That looks as good as new.”
“Thank you, my lady.”
“I don’t suppose you found any of that treasure we talked about, hidden in the wall?”
He laughed. “Nay, I found naught in the wall but an old crowbar.”
“A crowbar?”
“Aye, my lady. Who knows how long it’s been there.”
She shook her head at the strangeness of it and continued to the drawing room.
She expected to find Cassie reading by the fire, but the room was empty. As much as she enjoyed her sister’s lighthearted chatter, for once Lina was grateful Cassie was out. This way, there was no need to mention her encounter with Win, no need to put on a cheerful face. She picked up her embroidery and sank down on the sofa with a sigh.
So Win was leaving, going back to Hampshire. Why did it hurt so much that he’d been distant with her today? Why did his leaving make her feel as if he’d ripped away a piece of her and was taking it with him?
Because you’re in love with him. She closed her eyes, the truth too painful to face in the cold light of day.
She hadn’t planned on it. She’d never expected to fall for any man so soon after Edward. She’d certainly never imagined that man would be a widowed ex-soldier with more looks than fortune.
But if Win wasn’t the same gawky, unthreatening youth Edward had been, then neither was she the same frantic, single-minded girl she’d been before her marriage. For most of her life, every day had been a mission to escape her mother’s fate—to avoid falling for a handsome charmer, to hang on to her virtue until she had a wedding ring on her finger, to find wealth and security at last.
Now she had that security. She was far from rich, but Win was right—she and her baby were never going to be poor in the same grim and desperate way she’d been as a young girl. She would never again have to live on potatoes and stale cheese, or go to bed hungry at night.
She was a countess, and the child she carried would be either a noble lady or the next Earl of Radbourne. Her marriage contract guaranteed that even if she gave birth to a daughter, that daughter would have a sizable dowry when she married. The same contract ensured that she and Cassie would always have food on their table and a roof over their heads. She could afford to follow her heart.
And her heart chose Win. The problem was, she’d finally met someone more wary than she was when it came to love. She’d tried to force him to take a leap he didn’t want to take, and now he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. But if she ached with longing now, how was she going to feel when he went back to Hampshire?
A commotion at the front of the house made her lower her embroidery to her lap. She listened with her head cocked to one side. Unless she was much mistaken, that was Cassie’s step, but who was with her?
Lina had her answer a moment later, when a windblown but smiling Cassie led Dr. Strickland into the drawing room. The doctor was in his evening clothes, carrying a wicker hamper she recognized as Cassie’s.
“Look who I came across in Malton, Lina,” Cassie announced.
Dr. Strickland set the hamper on a side table. “I hope you don’t mind, Lady Radbourne, but Miss Douglass asked me to dinner.”
Lina had the uncomfortable sense there was something more afoot. Cassie, inviting Dr. Strickland? Wasn’t she trying to discourage the doctor’s attentions? “You’re most welcome, Doctor. Only last week, we were forced to have our meals in the sitting room, but thanks to Colonel Vaughan, the dining room fireplace is working again and now we can eat like civilized people.”
At her mention of Win, Cassie traded a look with Dr. Strickland.
Lina observed the look with a sinking feeling. Oh, yes, there was definitely something afoot.
* * *
The walk back to the abbey took Win twice as long as usual. With his broken arm, he couldn’t give Julia a ride on his shoulders. Instead he carried their skates and slowed his steps to match his daughter’s.
“Papa, are you angry?” Julia asked as they neared the house.
He was angry, or something very like it, but he’d thought he was hiding it well enough. “Why do you ask that?”
“Because you’re doing this.” She tensed her shoulders and breathed a few sharp, noisy breaths in and out through her nose.
With an effort, he forced himself to relax. “I’m certainly not angry with you.”
“Are you angry with Lady Radbourne?”
If he were Freddie, he would say either I’m so angry I can hardly stand to look at her or I want her so much that looking at her makes me angry, though he wasn’t sure which. Instead he said, “It’s complicated.”
“That means yes, doesn’t it?”
“No, Jules. It means I wish circumstances were different. Only one of us can be happy, either Lady Radbourne or I, and that’s what makes me angry.”
“Why can only one of you be happy?”
“Because there can only be one Earl of Radbourne and only one owner of the abbey.”
“But the abbey is big. Why can’t you share it?”
Why, why, why—Julia was going to drive him mad. “Grown-up ladies and gentlemen don’t share houses with each other.”
“Why not? You like her, don’t you?”
“I like her very much,” he admitted with a tightening in his chest. “But it’s improper for a man and a woman who aren’t part of the same family to share a house unless they’re married.”
“Then you should marry her.”
“She doesn’t want to marry me.” Though that wasn’t exactly true. She’d proposed to him. He was the one who’d rejected the possibility.
“Why not?”
“Because poor men don’t marry rich ladies.”
“Are you poor, Papa?”
Win quickened his steps. “Not poor, exactly, but...poor enough.”
Poor enough, and ineffectual enough. It gnawed at him that he was leaving with the poisoner still at large and no way to guarantee Lina’s safety, but what else could he do? They’d both made their positions clear. She wanted nothing further to do with him. He couldn’t marry her, but neither could he bear seeing her day in and day out, knowing her regard had turned to contempt.
Julia’s head tilted to one side. “If you’re poor and Lady Radbourne is rich, why does she live in a house that smells funny while we live in the abbey?”
“We’re only staying at the abbey for the present. We don’t know yet whom it really belongs to, me or Lady Radbourne. We live at Hamble Grange.”
Julia had to skip to keep up with him. “At least Hamble Grange doesn’t smell funny.”
Despite his foul mood, she spoke with such artless pride that a reluctant smile tugged at Win’s lips. “No, it doesn’t.”
“I think you should marry Lady Radbourne now,” Julia said sagely, “while our house smells better than hers does.”
Win’s forehead creased. Freddie was blind to social conventions, and Julia was innocent of them. In the past twenty-four hours, both had suggested he should marry Lina. Neither Freddie nor Julia would consider him a fortune hunter if he did, even if the Radbourne wealth went to Lina
’s baby. They just wanted him to be happy.
And, together with Lina, they were the people he loved best in all the world.
Lina’s question echoed in his head. So this is about your pride?
Was that really all that was keeping them apart—a stupid masculine need to show the world he didn’t want or need a woman’s money? A chance to prove he was better than Harriet and her father had believed? Even if Lina had a boy, the title and fortune wouldn’t really belong to her, but to her infant son. And, damn it, why should he care what the rest of the world thought of him anyway?
Except it wasn’t just what the world thought of him, it was what Lina thought. If he married her with nothing of any worth to bring to the match—if the only way to save Hamble Grange was with her financial intervention, and even he knew she was above his touch—it would be Harriet all over again. She’d realize he was nothing but a disappointment, an expensive mistake. She’d know she could have done better, and he’d see it in those magnificent eyes of hers every time she looked at him.
He could abide almost anything but that.
* * *
Dinner with Cassandra and Dr. Strickland was an odd affair. Cassie kept giving her fretful, worried looks, and though they spoke in polite commonplaces, Lina feared that was only because they were under the watchful eyes of Dr. Strickland and the footman. She wasn’t looking forward to the end of the evening, when the doctor would take his leave and Cassie would be free to unburden herself of whatever grievance had her in a stew.
But that was pure optimism, as it turned out, for Lina didn’t have to wait for Dr. Strickland to go. They no sooner rose from the table and filed out of the room than the doctor pulled her aside and said in a fierce, rapid whisper, “Lady Radbourne, though I agree with what your sister means to say to you tonight, I beg you to believe that she came to me. I did not and I would not betray your confidence.”
She stared back at him for a moment in dumbstruck surprise, then gave a sharp nod and followed Cassie into the drawing room.
She was still settling herself on the sofa across from Cassie, Dr. Strickland taking the place beside her, when Cassie folded her hands and said in a low, solemn voice, “Lina, I have something very serious to discuss with you.”
Lina glanced uneasily at Dr. Strickland. “Cassie...”
“It’s all right,” Cassie said. “Dr. Strickland knows how I feel. I asked him here tonight to lend countenance to my arguments.”
“Miss Douglass has expressed her concern to me, and I understand her anxiety,” the doctor said, though he looked far from comfortable.
Cassie had worry lines between her delicate brows. “I didn’t say anything to you last night, because I wanted to gather my thoughts and approach the problem calmly. Then I had my attack, and it hardly seemed the time to take you to task when you were beside me in my hour of need.” She fixed a gaze of blue-eyed appeal on Lina. “But I can’t hold my tongue any longer.”
“Do go on,” Lina said coolly, though she could already sense what was coming.
“You promised me you were going to keep a more fitting distance from Colonel Vaughan, yet you not only stayed behind at the abbey last night when you could’ve come with me in Mrs. Channing’s carriage, but you didn’t get home until one o’clock in the morning. I heard you come in, and when I looked out my bedroom window, whom should I see walking away but Colonel Vaughan?”
Lina wanted to say So he escorted me home. What of it? The words were on the tip of her tongue, especially now that Win had rejected her marriage proposal and made up his mind to leave Yorkshire. But Dr. Strickland knew the extent of the intimacies she’d shared with Win, and she could scarcely pretend that had amounted to nothing.
“How can you have forgotten poor Radbourne so soon?” Cassie said, observing her hesitation.
Lina’s chin came up. “I haven’t forgotten Radbourne. I was a good wife to him, and I’d be a good wife to him still if he were alive. But he’s gone now, and nothing I do can bring him back.”
“No matter what kind of wife you were while Edward was alive, that won’t stop tongues from wagging now.”
“For your information—” She was about to finish there’s nothing between Colonel Vaughan and me, not anymore. It was the painful truth. But something in her rebelled at the notion of denying her own feelings because scandalmongers might presume to judge her for following her heart. “If people did talk, heaven knows it wouldn’t be the first time someone in our family has been gossiped about or disapproved of. Am I to live my whole life worrying about the very people who made Mama’s days so miserable?”
Cassie’s forehead creased. “I don’t think you appreciate the gravity of the situation. So far I’ve tried to confine my objections to appearances, because I know you won’t like what I’m about to say, but—I’m convinced Colonel Vaughan must be behind the recent poisonings.”
“No.” Lina shook her head. “Absolutely not. Would he have rescued me from being trampled by the Mail if he was the killer?”
“He would if it persuaded you to abandon your defenses. What better way to get close enough to do you some mischief than to win your trust through a sham rescue attempt?”
“There was nothing sham about it.” Lina’s hands clenched in her lap. “I can vouch for only two people who were in Malton that day, and those people are Colonel Vaughan and his little girl. I was looking directly at them when I was pushed, and he was busy ensuring she didn’t dart out into the road.” With a pang Lina remembered the rush of attraction that had hit her, seeing for the first time what a careful and attentive father he was. Was there any chance she could win back his good opinion?
“Then someone must have bumped into you, but what of it? It doesn’t prove Colonel Vaughan is trustworthy in general. It could just mean that when you fell in Malton, he was quick to take advantage of it.” Cassie slid to the edge of her seat. “The other incidents were all planned and deliberate, and each one involved poison. Well, who had more opportunity to poison the brandy Mr. Niven drank than Colonel Vaughan did? Doesn’t it seem strange to you that he never touched a drop?”
“No, it doesn’t seem strange. Mr. Channing didn’t touch a drop either.”
“Oh, Lina.” Cassie shook her head slowly back and forth in disappointment. “I realize Colonel Vaughan is handsome, but you can’t let that blind you. Everything was fine here until he arrived in the neighborhood.”
Lina glanced to her right, to where Dr. Strickland sat, looking as if he wished he were anywhere else. “What do you think?”
His shoulders heaved in a thoughtful sigh. “I confess I don’t know what to think. I’ve talked about this with Mr. Channing, and I can’t make up my mind about Colonel Vaughan. He seems sincere enough, when I speak with him. At any other time, and in any other circumstances, I’d hope we might become friends. But Miss Douglass is right about the timing of these occurrences—they began with the Colonel’s arrival. Then, too, there’s the question of motive. No one else stands to profit as he does if something should happen to your child.”
“What about his brother?” Lina hated to point an accusing finger at Mr. Vaughan, but Dr. Strickland spoke as if Win was the only possible suspect. “He’d benefit, too, if the Colonel became the next earl.”
“He’s far too honest,” Cassie protested.
Dr. Strickland frowned faintly. “I’ve spoken to him at some length, and unless he’s a truly remarkable actor, I do find it difficult to believe he’d be capable of such subterfuge.”
“You’re wrong about Win.” Lina looked back and forth from the doctor to her sister. “Both of you. What reason would he have to kill Mr. Niven?”
“I believe Mr. Niven was merely a hapless victim,” Dr. Strickland said. “Anyone could have drunk that brandy.”
“Yes—including Colonel Vaughan. He was the intended target.”
“I think he poisoned the bottle himself, for precisely the reason you’ve just given,” Cassie said. “To make himself look more like an innocent target than a cold-blooded killer. It was his idea to bring Mr. Niven to the study, after all.”
“He didn’t force Mr. Niven to drink. According to Mr. Channing, he didn’t even offer him the brandy.”
“Just because a man sets a trap doesn’t mean he’s in a rush to spring it,” the doctor pointed out. “These crimes have demanded patience and cunning.”
“Yes,” Cassie seconded. “Surely you can’t trust Colonel Vaughan that much after everything that’s happened.”
Was it only a little more than a week ago that Cassie had urged her to give Win and his brother a chance, and Lina had been the one wondering what Win was really after? It seemed so long ago now. “It’s because of everything that’s happened, and yes, I do trust him that much. He’s not behind the poisonings. I know it in my heart.”
“Whatever your heart may be telling you, you can’t really know.” Cassie’s lips twisted in an anxious frown. “I’m convinced you’re putting yourself in danger, insisting on seeing him.”
“I’m not seeing him,” Lina admitted reluctantly. “Not anymore. But it’s not because I don’t believe in him. And given the chance, I can’t—I won’t—promise not see him in the future.” If only there were still some possibility Win would change his mind, and not leave Yorkshire. Or perhaps after her baby was born, if Win inherited—had she ruined all hope of a future with him? Despite her brave words to Cassie, she had the melancholy feeling she had.
Across from her, Cassie sighed and rose from her chair. “I was afraid you’d say that.” She paced to the table at the end of the sofa, where Dr. Strickland had set the hamper he’d carried back from Malton for her. “That’s why I bought this today.”
An Heir of Uncertainty Page 24
