The Prince of Ravenscar

by Catherine Coulter

  Richard drew a deep breath. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “No, I don’t know, but I’ve never known you to act in your life without a good reason. Lily having a lover is the only reason that makes sense, the only thing that would anger you sufficiently. Why won’t you admit it? Why? There is no one here to hear you confess, you won’t be hung, dammit.”

  “Do you know, if Lily had taken a lover, I wouldn’t ever have considered killing her. How could I? I loved her. I would have set her free.”

  “I have seen you in a rage before.”

  “And did I kill anyone?”

  “No, you beat the fellow to his knees.”

  “Ah, that one. Well, he was a bully, and he insulted Lily. What was I to do?”

  “Beat him to his knees, damn you.”

  “Richard, let me be honest here. I wouldn’t have killed Lily if she were unfaithful, that is quite true. The man, however, I might very well have killed. But I wouldn’t have been in a rage. I would have been as smart as I could, killed him, and buried him and gotten away with it.

  “Now, I will tell you yet again. I didn’t shoot her. When I came into the garden, she was already dead. Listen to me, Richard. I will say this once more, then never again, for I begin to bore even myself. I swear my innocence to you on my father’s honor, since you obviously don’t believe I have any honor.”

  “You had honor once.”

  “As did you.”

  Richard picked up a brass candlestick and hurled it against the fireplace. Both men stared as the candlestick bounced off the marble, then rolled across the wooden floor, coming to rest on the Aubusson carpet.

  “You frightened my spaniels.”

  Julian sat down again, gathering the four dogs to him. “It’s all right. Just an accident. Cletus, don’t you forget your manners.” He calmed the dogs, then looked over at Richard, who stood, white-faced, leaning against his desk.

  Julian said, “You have spent the past three years of your life plotting my downfall. You have thought of nothing else. It has become an obsession with you, your father is quite right about that. You have stopped moving forward, Richard, you have stopped living your life.”

  “I owe it to my sister to bring her murderer to justice. Until you are dead, I will continue to owe it to her.”

  Julian eyed his boyhood friend, saw his hands clench and unclench at his sides, felt the heat of his bubbling rage writhing about just below the surface. He said, “I would ask you to believe—but for a moment—that I am not guilty of her murder. If you believe my innocence—for a moment only—then tell me, Richard, what do you think happened?”

  “What is this nonsense?”

  “I ask you to humor me—for but a moment. If I didn’t shoot Lily, then what do you think happened?”

  “She didn’t commit suicide, as you were claiming. I know Lily; she would never kill herself, never. It would mean that someone else killed her and tried to make it look like suicide. And the someone else saw you coming and hoped you would be blamed, that is what I would think if I were not certain in my own mind that you were guilty.”

  “All right. I ask that you consider for yet another moment that I did not kill Lily. Let me ask you, did you kill her, Richard?”

  “I? Kill my own sister? I loved her; I would never have harmed her.”

  “Even if she did something so reprehensible it destroyed all feeling for her?”

  “No, there is nothing that would make me feel that way, even if she took a dozen lovers and flaunted them about the neighborhood.”

  “Very well. I ask you to keep thinking that I am innocent. If Lily didn’t kill herself, then who put a pistol to her heart and pulled the trigger? Who left it in her hand? Do you remember who was in the house that day?”

  Richard shoved his fingers through his hair. He began pacing the estate room. The spaniels were pressed tightly against Julian, watching first him and then Richard.

  Richard whirled about. “My father was in the house. So was Vicky. She had tried on a new white gown, I remember that clearly. When she came running into the garden, you were crouched over Lily, bloody, looking down at her. Vicky fell to her knees and hugged her sister tightly, began rocking her. When my father lifted her off, there was blood all over her white gown. I remember thinking it looked like she was shot.”

  Julian nodded. “Yes, now I remember you yelled at her to go burn the damned gown. I remember, too, that I simply couldn’t accept Lily’s death, couldn’t accept that she wasn’t breathing and I couldn’t bring her back, that she was gone. I remember there was so much blood. I had her blood all over my hands.”

  “You were shaking her, yelling at her, pleading with her, pouring your breath into her mouth—all of it an act to convince everyone of your despair. You were crying—yet another act.”

  Julian was seeing it all clearly again, and it nearly bowed him to his knees. He said, his voice thick, “The pain of it has lessened over time, but speaking of it brings it all back again. I can hear Vicky screaming; I can see your father’s bloodless face, see his lips moving, but nothing came out.

  “Richard, consider that nothing I did was an act. That what you saw was a husband who was devastated by his wife’s violent death. Do you remember anyone else who was about that day?”

  “No. You asked everyone, you questioned every servant, every gardener, every stable lad, but none of them saw anyone else. So if we are to continue your game, it means you want me to believe one of Lily’s family murdered her, either my sister or my father.”

  “If you didn’t kill her and you swear to me she wouldn’t have killed herself, then yes, who else is there to consider?”

  “Damn you, no, it is impossible.”

  Julian said slowly, “You wish to believe me guilty because you can’t bear it to be either Vicky or your father. Blaming me has kept them safe from your scrutiny for three years. Making your focus on me as the killer has kept that awful fear buried deep inside you, the fear that one of them was responsible.” He waited a beat. “Or the only other possibility is that she did indeed kill herself. But like you, I would swear there was no lover, so the question is: Why would she kill herself? We’d only been married six months. It’s true, I was gone a lot in those days, so much to be done. Mayhap she was lonely, mayhap she did meet a man, but I don’t think so, nor does my mother.

  “I still feel the guilt of it now, leaving her at Ravenscar by herself. My mother said she spent a great deal of time at Hardcross Manor. And I remember well she still went back and forth most days even when I was home.

  “So why, Richard, why would she kill herself? Can you think of anything that happened, anything that could have sent her into such despair that she no longer wanted to live?”

  Richard gave him a blind look, kicked a chair leg, and said, “She didn’t have a lover, damn you, I know it to my soul. I can’t remember that anything out of the ordinary happened. It could not have been either our father or our sister, that is quite absurd. So your moment is over, Julian. You are the only one left. It was you who killed her, no matter your continuous protestations of innocence. So leave it, Julian, for I will never believe you, ever.

  “About Roxanne. I did not take her. You must have enemies other than myself; look at the wealth you’ve gained in a short amount of time.

  “Since I cannot believe Roxanne somehow brought this down on herself, then it is you who are responsible. What sort of ruthless bastard are you, Julian?”

  Julian said, his voice emotionless, “All right, let us move on to Roxanne. I will consider—for a moment only—that you are innocent of this. Then who hired Manners to drug her in her bed and haul her out of Ravenscar?”

  Richard was silent.

  “You see how difficult it is for me to believe you innocent? I mean, no one else even knew about Manners, did they? Mayhap your father and your sister, but no one else. Who else knows their way around Ravenscar the way you do? Except perhaps your father and your sister?

  “I’m
very much afraid there is something in your household, Richard, something right under your nose, that you are refusing to see.”

  “There is nothing untoward going on at Hardcross Manor!”

  “Do you know Manners was going to rape her? He did not succeed, because her father had taught her to kick a man in the groin to bring him down, and so she kept her wits about her and kicked him hard. She saved herself. We arrived at the old barn when she’d already tied him up. She’ll have nightmares, Richard, probably as long as she lives.”

  “I did not hire Manners to take her.”

  “You see my dilemma, do you not? I must believe you as guilty of taking Roxanne as you believe me guilty of shooting Lily. Tell me, Richard, are you really going to marry Roxanne’s sister, Lady Merrick?”

  “That is none of your business.”

  Richard was pacing again. Julian didn’t move, merely watched him.

  He said, “I believe you searched Leah out on purpose, to use her to get at me. Such an outlandish scheme, Richard, more complicated than any other I have seen you concoct over the years. Did your father tell you my mother wished me to marry Sophie, but all came to believe it was Roxanne I wanted, and that is why you decided to roll the dice? Tell me, what has winning her affection gained you?”

  “Don’t be stupid. Knowing Leah has made me aware of your plans, has given me entrance to this house. Damn you, you hate me, call me out, let’s end this like gentlemen.”

  “Hate you? I do not hate you, Richard. What I hate is the boyhood friend now lost to me because he simply can’t force himself to look beyond me.

  “Do you really intend to marry her? Or will you simply make her—a lady—into your mistress until you have no more use for her?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” Richard kicked the sofa, sending the spaniels into a frenzy, and slammed out of the estate room. He shouted over his shoulder, “I did not hire Manners to take Roxanne. If I’d wanted to destroy you, I would have hired him to take Sophie, not Roxanne. I like Roxanne; I would never hurt her. I do not know who hired Manners to do it; surely neither my father nor my sister, that is ridiculous. There has to be someone else, there has to be. Wake the blighter up, he’ll have to tell you.”

  Julian listened to Richard’s boots clicking on the marble floor, receding into the distance. Sophie said from the doorway, “What a very hurt man he is.” She walked to Julian, ignoring the spaniels leaping at her. “You did excellently with him. He’s been angry for so long, he doesn’t know anything else. But now you have forced him to think. Perhaps he will realize something he hasn’t wished to see these past three years.”

  “You eavesdropped.”

  “Don’t sound so horrified. It is the best way to gain needful information. I’m sorry Lily is dead, Julian, but I am also very glad she isn’t here to be married to you.” She kissed his cheek. “What a fine forbearing sort of uncle you are.” She turned quickly to scoop up Cletus and Beatrice, leaving the other two to howl at her. She laughed, and said, “I’m taking them out to run. Come, Oliver, Hortense. You two stop complaining, I can’t carry all of you.” And she was through the French doors, and walking in her long-legged stride toward the cliff at the end of the dog run, the spaniels skipping and dancing beside her.

  54

  I think I should like to take you away from Ravenscar, Roxanne.” “Exactly why do you think that?”

  Devlin was leaning back on his elbows, no hat on his head, looking at her intently. “I suppose I’m thinking aloud. My heart’s finally slowed a bit now that I’ve convinced myself you are really all right. You scared me out of a good ten years.”

  “Add us together and we’ve twenty less years on this earth.” They sat on a blanket in the shade of an immense willow tree on the banks of the Horvath. Devlin sat up next to Roxanne to lean against the tree. She lifted her hand to touch him, then dropped it back to her side. She smiled, then cocked her head. “I don’t know what I think of your having a tanned face, Devlin.”

  “It will fade if I am careful. Should you like to leave here, Roxanne? Sophie told me your maid Tansy told her you had a nightmare last night.”

  Roxanne picked up a small pebble and gave it an expert flick into the water. “Blast Tansy.” She watched the pebble skip three times. “She means well, but she cannot keep a single thought to herself. What am I saying? She is only sixteen years old, and she is very protective of me. I fear she might regard me as a sort of mother figure, which depresses my spirits.” She sighed. “I was an idiot to say anything about it to her.”

  “It wouldn’t have mattered. It was the major topic of conversation at the servants’ table last night, I wager. Now, I can see for myself that your eyes are shadowed, and you are more pale than you usually are. Thus you’re not sleeping well. I think perhaps a change of scenery might do you good. Perhaps you should like to visit my home, Holly Hill. Did I tell you, it was finished the year Henry VII removed himself from this earth? That Tudor king was a great friend of my ancestor; the two of them, it is told, hunted often together, my ancestor singing all the while. It was said his deep baritone voice brought out the deer.”

  “A charming tale. Did you make that up, Devlin, to distract me?”

  “I? Not a word of it. I can show you three-hundred-year-old papers, recounting the history.

  “If not Holly Hill, perhaps you would wish to come with me to my parents’ home near Colchester? You will like Mount Burney, it’s in the Palladian style, all big columns, huge high-ceilinged rooms. It looks more like a real palace than Ravenscar. I would like you to meet my parents, Roxanne.”

  “I have met them, Devlin.”

  His voice deepened, grew austere. “You would meet them in a different way now.” He drew a deep breath. “The thing is, I’m thinking I quite like having you around. And if you agree to be around, then I want you happy and laughing, not having your eyes shadowed, not enduring nightmares that scare the sin out of you.”

  She said, “I like having you around as well.”

  He looked at her now, studying her face for a long moment. Then he wound a loose curl around his finger, leaning forward as he did so, until he fancied he could hear her heartbeat. He closed his eyes and breathed her in. “You are magnificent. Marry me, Roxanne.”

  She was magnificent? He wanted to marry her? She was something of an heiress, that was true enough, but she was only a baron’s daughter. He was the Earl of Convers, heir to the Duke of Brabante. She was a spinster, long accepted as such and well settled in her nest on the shelf, wherever that was. They were the same age. She didn’t move, scarcely breathed. He was always elusive, always saying something she didn’t expect. But, she realized, since she’d been kidnapped, he’d changed.

  She said slowly, “You haven’t let me out of your sight since you came bursting through that barn door.”

  He was chewing again on a water reed, looking at the river, fingering a flat stone. “I fancy I won’t until I cock up my toes.”

  “Last night, you even insisted on walking me to my room. You checked the keyhole and the key itself very carefully, then bade me lock the door, then check it to make certain it was locked. Then you turned and eyed the corridor wall for the longest time.”

  “You know exactly what I was thinking whilst I was looking at that wall.”

  “Well, it was only three nights ago when voices awoke me and I came out to find you, and you kissed me and brought me against you and I felt all of you and you felt all of me.” She paused for a moment, flicked another pebble into the water, this one gaining only two jumps. “I know I probably should not say this, Devlin, but I have come to realize I could so easily have died yesterday. Manners could have killed me, or the person who hired him could have taken me away and killed me. And if I were dead, it would mean that I’d left something important unsaid. And now that seems rather ridiculous to me.

  “So I shall say it aloud. When you kissed me, when you held me tight against you, I was aware of things I’
ve never really thought of before, I was aware of you as a man, a man who wanted me, a man who could take me against the wall, and I will be honest here, I was certainly willing. To solve that final mystery, to understand what you and I could be together—” She drew a deep breath and looked him straight in the eye. “I have never felt feelings like those in my life. I wanted more, and you knew it. And you, the man who keeps more mistresses than most men have shirts, was the one to stop, not the prim on-the-shelf virgin spinster.”

  He was silent. He leaned forward and again began wrapping and unwrapping the hank of hair between his long fingers.

  “I should say pulling away from you makes me sound vastly honorable. Or, more likely, a great fool.”

  “Devlin, do you really wish to marry me?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I become your wife, you can no longer visit your mistresses.”

  He wanted to make light of it, tell her she shouldn’t listen to gossip, but he didn’t. He looked at her straight on, leaned forward, not touching her, and kissed her lightly. Then he cupped her face in his palm. “You could have died, you’re right about that. I have realized as well that I am keeping things inside me that should be spoken. I will be honest here. I was not looking for a wife. I believed myself too young, even though my parents have been hinting that it is time I set up my nursery. I liked my life, liked the way one day flowed into the next. I was happy, I was content, the days were full, usually quite pleasant—racing, gaming, loving, dancing—I sound like a worthless sot, don’t I? A man with no substance, a spoiled man who’s always played at life, never burrowed in and tried to do anything worthwhile, not like my uncle, who works very hard.

  “Let me tell you, Roxanne, Julian is a power. I think he’s that way because he was the second son, the son who never knew his father, the son who believed he had to prove himself to gain worth. But I’m probably spouting nonsense.”

  “No, it sounds very reasonable, in Julian’s case. But what is wrong with enjoying your life if you are able? You are not worthless, Devlin, you have a fine brain, and yes, you are quite honorable. I know you read a lot—so why didn’t you add that to your list of amusements? Are you ashamed to have something worthwhile in your assessment of yourself? And I have never heard you be malicious or cruel. The fact is, I think you an estimable man. And an estimable vampire. I like vampires.