Amanda L.V. Shalaby

by Rhianna

  Thayne looked at her anxiously, his grip tightening around her. “We must hurry back. Lydia will be a desperate woman tonight.”

  He took her hand and they hurried out of the room. Rhianna dared not think of the outcome. One thing was certain: If Lydia and Desmond were determined to kill Guilford Kingsley, they would not hesitate to kill anyone who stood in their way.

  • • •

  It was a room Lydia had never entered and little thought of. Though a gray-haired woman by the time she came to live with them, Catherine Kingsley added to the difficulty of her sneaking Pierson to and from the house. Anything remindful of her was disagreeable to Lydia and she had, in fact, so far removed the memory of her stay from her mind that the very existence of the bedroom was forgotten — and so it would have remained had the door not been left ajar. On the way back to her own bedroom, Lydia halted before the open door and peeked into the sheet-covered room, wondering who would have had any interest in entering it.

  On the bed, a document caught her eye and curiosity immediately took over. Seeing that no one else was around, she entered, despite a distinct feeling of being unwelcome and out of place. She approached and snatched the document that was Guilford’s will and examined its contents, her eyes focused on finding the one bequest that mattered …

  Her hands quaked so violently, she could no longer read the words on the printed page. Soon, her entire body convulsed with fury. The blue veins of her forehead popped and bloodspots scattered around her eyes, while despite the cold in the air she began to sweat with hate. Lydia found herself clenching her teeth, her mouth at once dehydrated, as she realized the document had been executed twenty years previous.

  It would have been one thing to leave Wyndgate to Audra, but the curate’s daughter? A mere baby at the time, what could sway him to steal from his own family in such a loathsome manner? Lydia, yet convinced of an affair between them, wondered at his clear fixation on Rhianna Braden from the beginning of her existence and was all but baffled — until she looked up and her eyes fell upon a portrait …

  Catherine Kingsley.

  Lydia was taken aback. She stared at the unveiled painting, the shocking resemblance between Catherine and Rhianna turning her white with rage. The portrait’s eyes in turn met hers with a disapproving gaze and Lydia recognized the feeling. For some time, she had attempted to dismiss sensations that the dead woman was watching her from every corner of the manor. Indeed, though, she was. Rhianna was watching her — Guilford’s bastard child. Lydia wondered little who the mother was. And now the girl lived under the same roof, with no future purpose but to torment her, just as Catherine had, watching her with accusing eyes while stealing her family’s fortune.

  With these thoughts, Lydia escaped the room as fast as she could, leaving behind her a quiet, empty room, a sliver of sun shining favorably on the unveiled portrait of Catherine Kingsley, the white sheet that had before covered it hanging loosely down the side of the fireplace.

  Chapter Ten

  “Lord Kingsley told me we could trust Mr. Weathersby,” Rhianna told Thayne. “What of Dr. Logan? Ought he to have discovered the poison in his system? Do you imagine he could be conspiring with them?”

  With his hand on the doorknob to Lord Kingsley’s bedroom, Thayne paused. All the servants had left. The hallway was empty but for the two of them.

  “Pierson was specific that neither Lydia nor Desmond was able to get to Lord Kingsley to give him the final dose. If such is the case, it would seem they are working alone,” he thought aloud. “Not to mention Dr. Logan has had full access to Lord Kingsley, and if all that was required was a final dose, he certainly hasn’t administered it.”

  “Yes, but Mr. Weathersby has been consistently at his side. Perhaps even Dr. Logan’s full access is not opportunity enough under watchful eyes.”

  At last, he shook his head. “There is nothing to be gained for the doctor by the death of Lord Kingsley,” Thayne said, resolutely. “Nothing is impossible, but we are going to have to take the chance and hope the doctor is on our side.”

  Rhianna nodded, her hands wrung anxiously together. Thayne kissed her forehead and opened the door.

  Guilford lay in bed sleeping, his previous confession having pressed his strength to the limit. Weathersby and Dr. Logan stood nearby, their faces grave, as they had been all along.

  “Gentlemen,” called Thayne.

  “Lord Brighton,” they greeted. “Miss Braden.”

  Rhianna half curtseyed, eyeing both men suspiciously. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help it.

  “Dr. Logan,” Thayne addressed, in a no-holds-barred manner, “I have a very serious question to ask of you, and I beg you will excuse my directness.”

  Dr. Logan appeared at once concerned. “Of course.”

  “Have you ruled out the possibility that Lord Kingsley has been poisoned?”

  “Poisoned?” echoed Weathersby.

  Dr. Logan appeared equally aghast. “Sir?”

  Thayne watched his reaction closely. “Something that could have been administered over a period of time to make it appear he was ill of natural causes?”

  The doctor’s brows furrowed together, his mouth parted. He looked at Guilford with what appeared heavy concern.

  “Arsenic,” he answered, his voice monotone. “It would be nearly undetectable. Lord Brighton,” he glared at him, “what exactly are you suggesting?”

  “A very serious allegation against Lydia Kingsley, Desmond Kingsley, and her cousin, Mr. Pierson, Doctor. Miss Braden and I are, in fact, witnesses to a conversation between two of them on this very subject.”

  Weathersby’s mouth opened as if to gasp, but no sound was heard. Dr. Logan rushed to Guilford’s side and examined him.

  “It would explain his symptoms,” the doctor said, his voice hurried, panicked.

  “Dr. Logan,” Rhianna asked, hesitantly, “if such is the case, could he be saved?”

  Her eyes were wide, pleading. For a moment, she forgot he did not know he was her father.

  Dr. Logan seemed to consider the likelihood. “It is possible,” he told her, cautiously. Then he shook his head. “Could Lady Kingsley be capable of this?”

  The room fell silent.

  “Rhianna, may I speak with you outside?” Thayne asked. She silently agreed. “I will return, gentlemen.”

  They seemed not even to hear him and he exited with Rhianna.

  In the hallway, Thayne’s hands enclosed her face, his hold gentle yet tense. “I want you and Audra to leave this place. It is not safe.”

  “Where shall we … ?”

  “Ravensleigh.”

  Rhianna’s eyes turned toward Lord Kingsley’s bedroom door. Thayne was not unaware of her concern and his thumbs softly stroked her cheeks.

  “There is nothing you can do here, Rhianna,” he told her delicately.

  “What will you do?”

  “I will call on some friends. Some live close and can be here in a matter of hours. In the meantime, I will personally watch over Lord Kingsley. The guilty parties are not aware of our knowledge. It will buy us some time.” She allowed him to accept her silence as agreement. “Let us speak with Henry. I will have him call my carriage and we will get you a change of clothes.”

  • • •

  Thayne carried a sleepy Audra to the carriage in front of Kingsley Manor, seeing for the first time the sisterly resemblances between her and Rhianna in their pale skin and large eyes. His driver, Barton, stood at the ready.

  “But I don’t want to leave …” The emotional exhaustion had taken its toll on Audra; her words were mumbled and weak, her eyes closing.

  “It is only for a little while. I will watch over your father while you keep my mum and Crispin company. Crispin is already waiting for you.”

  She sighed, surrendering to the physical limits of her body. Thayne gently placed her down beside the maid and manservant Lady Brighton had sent to accompany them on their short journey to Ravensleigh. They tosse
d a blanket over her as Thayne tipped his hat to them both.

  Rhianna was speaking with Henry at the front door, each nodding to the other, when Thayne turned to her. Then, she made her way toward her fiancé. Despite the circumstances, Thayne allowed himself a moment to admire the woman he adored, her red hair as it sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun, her green, almond-shaped eyes that lit up when they met his, and even her long, hooded cloak as it twisted around her in the wind. He cherished the moment, knowing the time to appreciate it was now, for who could say how the hours ahead would pass?

  Her gloved hands reached out to his.

  “I do not know how soon it will be before we are together again,” Thayne told her.

  There was so much more to say, but he hesitated. Thayne’s intention had been to prepare Rhianna for a long absence, but as those few words passed his lips he realized himself what that would mean — a pain acute and severe. Instantly recalling the snowstorm that had all too recently kept them apart, this too would keep them at a distance for an unknown, excruciating period.

  But there was no time to consider that. Besides, there was no alternative. At least this time he could remind himself she was promised to him.

  “I love you,” he concluded.

  Her worried expression softened, and her cheeks grew rosy with her faint smile. “I love you, Thayne Brighton.”

  He allowed the sound of his name from her lips to echo in his ears.

  “Whatever damage has been done,” he at last promised her, “I will not let any further harm come to Lord Kingsley.”

  She nodded. “I know. Please be careful.”

  He promised with an abrupt kiss and assisted her into the carriage. They exchanged anxious glances before the door closed between them.

  “Barton,” Thayne instructed, “go directly to Ravensleigh. Stop for no one, do you understand?”

  “Certainly, sir.”

  Thayne knocked his hand against the side of the carriage as Barton lifted himself up to the driver’s seat and urged the horses forward. He watched for a moment as the coach carried his beloved toward safety, and then reentered Kingsley Manor.

  • • •

  They had not traveled far down the approach when Rhianna watched Thayne enter the manor. Then, as instructed, Henry gave her the signal she was hoping for: the coast was clear.

  “Mr. Barton! Mr. Barton!” she cried to the coachman. “Please stop the coach!”

  “I beg your pardon?” he called, slowing the horses.

  “Please stop!” she called again.

  Rhianna was on her feet, her hands on the door. She leaned over to give Audra a kiss on the forehead.

  “Where are you going?” she asked Rhianna, groggily.

  “I promise I’ll meet you at Ravensleigh in no time at all.”

  “Miss Braden,” Mr. Barton called, “Lord Brighton instructed me not to stop.”

  “Yes, absolutely, once you are on your way you must not stop for anything at all,” she agreed. “Only, we have not yet left Kingsley Manor and I really must go back.” The coach came to a halt and Rhianna helped herself down. “Thank you, Mr. Barton. Please continue without me. Miss Kingsley must be at Ravensleigh as soon as possible.”

  Barton appeared very confused as she secured the door, and then shrugged before continuing on.

  She nearly ran back to the manor. She had always liked Henry, and he had always liked her. She knew she could ask him the favor of providing her a horse. A servant was already bringing it around.

  “Thank you, Henry,” she said, out of breath and smiling. “He would have never let me go.”

  “Keep a sharp eye out, miss,” he told Rhianna. “There are some unsavory characters in our midst.”

  “Yes.” The stable boy handed her the reins of her favorite steed. “I will, Henry. Thank you again.”

  She galloped down the Kingsley approach, gone as quickly as she had escaped the Brighton carriage that traveled yet within sight before her.

  • • •

  Thayne’s elbow rested in his hand, his fist supporting his chin, as he stood beside the window of Guilford’s room, his back to the scene outside. Dr. Logan leaned over Guilford with his stethoscope, the latter having awoken since Thayne’s return. Weathersby continued to stand gravely in the corner, pacing occasionally.

  Servants had been sent out to various households, bearing Thayne’s handwritten notes to each male of age, requesting they come at once to Kingsley Manor. He expected they all would come. He expected three to arrive relatively quickly.

  “Gentlemen, may I have a word with Lord Kingsley?” he requested, suddenly.

  Each was happy to oblige. Time was passing slowly as they waited and a change of scenery was welcome. Dr. Logan rose from beside the bed and followed Weathersby quietly into the hall.

  Thayne took a seat beside Guilford and smiled. “I want to thank you, Lord Kingsley.”

  Guilford examined him curiously. “Ought not I be thanking you, who willingly remains in such circumstances, away from his family, under this disgraceful roof?”

  Thayne shook his head. “No. It is a small thing compared with what you have done for me.”

  “Pray, tell.”

  Thayne drew a deep breath and smiled. “You have given me a family. A future. Happiness that I never imagined possible,” he told him. “And I hope you will forgive me, for had I known sooner, I would have asked your permission for her hand before she said yes.”

  His face smoothed, his brows raised, his lips spread wide across his face. “Indeed!” Through all the illness and exhaustion, energy issued from his core. “Rhianna? The future Mistress of Ravensleigh?”

  “Yes.” He grinned at the merriment in his voice. “And I can only hope you will still give your blessing.”

  “Thayne,” he called him, tenderly, “you are one of the most honorable men I have ever known. It is exactly the happiness that I wish for you both. Nothing should please me more.”

  Thayne took his hand in a firm grip, grinning from ear to ear. “I will always take care of her. You don’t have to worry.”

  Guilford struggled to place one of his hands over Thayne’s arm. “You have given me peace that I never imagined. Thank you.” Then he jested, “Well, it looks like my good friend Bridgeford is still going to need a governess.”

  Thayne looked at him curiously, but Guilford had no time to explain. There was a quick rap at the door and Henry entered.

  “I beg your pardon,” Henry breathed, as if he had run up the two flights of stairs from his post. “Miss Braden …”

  It was if he could hardly get the words out for lack of air. At the name, adrenaline shot through both men. Thayne jumped to his feet.

  “Henry, speak!”

  “She took a horse,” he hurried. “She said she was going to visit a friend …”

  “Miss Braden left in a carriage to Ravensleigh,” Thayne told him tensely. “I watched her drive off with my own eyes.”

  “That you did, sir. But after you returned to the manor, she exited the coach and took a horse. I’m so sorry to have helped her. I should be relieved of my duties at once. But Mr. Pierson and Lord Desmond Kingsley also happened to be on horseback and, at once appearing from the side of the manor, followed after her!”

  “Henry, is this true?” Guilford asked him.

  “My lord,” he bowed quickly.

  Thayne rushed at the window and saw the distant outline of two riders on horseback, both of them men. “Good God — we never closed the door!”

  “Thayne?”

  In this one word, Guilford’s voice held all the strength of the previous words spoken together.

  “We never closed the door to Catherine’s bedroom,” he told him. “They must know.” He turned to Henry. “Where did you say she was going?”

  “A friend’s house, sir. It is all she told me.”

  “Lord Kingsley? Can you have any idea?”

  “Yes.” His voice was confident. “There is only one place it
could be.”

  “There is more thing, my lord,” Henry added, uneasily. “One of the stable boys claims to have seen something dreadful. It was after Miss Braden’s horse accident … Forgive me, Lord Kingsley, but he alleges he saw Lord Desmond Kingsley remove a dart from the leg of her horse.”

  “Why did he not say so before?” cried Guilford.

  “My lord, he tells me that Lord Desmond Kingsley saw him. That he threatened his position if he ever spoke a word of the matter. The boy was apparently afraid.”

  Thayne addressed Henry again. “My horse — quickly! I leave at once.”

  • • •

  The trip to Mauvreen’s felt elongated, nearly unending, and Rhianna knew it was not because it had been several weeks since she had been there. Her heart raced well ahead of her and she felt as if she could not catch up to it. One central thought consumed her, namely, if she could not be beside her father as he lay dying, she could at least be beside her mother. Not only, but Mauvreen was at last free to tell her everything and Rhianna’s thoughts flew as she considered all the details she could provide, from what her mother was like as a child, to her relationship with Guilford Kingsley, to her final hours.

  If only this trail would end!

  The air was cold, but she hardly felt it. The woods seemed to watch her more closely than usual, but it did not frighten her. Even her horse seemed agitated, but it gave her no cause for concern. Rhianna’s mind had so overtaken her that she noticed little of the physical world around her.