by Lauren Royal
“Uncle William doesn’t know I’m with child,” she said softly. “Because it wouldn’t make a difference. And should the unthinkable happen, I would want him to believe the child is Rand’s.”
The last word was said with a sob—a sob Bennett smothered with his mouth. Heedless of Etta watching, they both poured themselves into the kiss.
It wouldn’t be their last, Margery consoled herself when they finally parted. They still had tonight.
But what of the days and nights after that?
SIXTY-THREE
“I HAVE AN idea!” Lily shouted as she burst back into the library. “Maybe Rex can find the diary.”
Up on a ladder, Rand turned to look down at her. “Rex? You mean Rex the dog, otherwise known as Attila?”
“Yes, Rex the dog. And no, I haven’t gone mad. Animals have a keen sense of smell, you know.”
Kit’s lips twitched. “I didn’t realize journals were smelly.”
Lily was so hopeful, she only laughed. “Alban’s diary would carry a specific scent. Come, let me show you what I mean.”
Rand and Kit exchanged a dubious glance but followed her out of the library.
On their way through the long gallery, Lily glared at Alban’s image. He wasn’t going to come between her and Rand and their happiness. Rex wouldn’t let her down.
Downstairs in the back parlor, Lord Hawkridge was examining the mastiff. When they walked in, he looked up from where he was kneeling—a very unlikely position for such a dignified man.
Lily liked him the better for it. There was always hope for a man who loved animals.
He smiled, an expression that sat rather oddly on his face. “Attila appears to have fully recovered, Lady Lily. I’m very grateful. My thanks to you.”
“I would do my best for any living creature, but you’re quite welcome. He’s a special dog. In fact, I’m wondering if I might borrow him for a while.”
He rose to his feet. “Gratitude extends only so far, my lady. Attila lives here.”
Rand spoke up. “She doesn’t mean to take him away. Only to use him to help find the diary.”
“He’s a fighter, not a hunter.” A more skeptical look had never graced a man’s face. “And there’s no diary to be found.”
Rand crossed his arms, appearing ready to do battle, but Kit cleared his throat. “It’s a harmless enough request from one who has done you such a favor. Attila will stay in the house. The exercise will do him good after his ordeal.”
“Exercise is all he’ll get—he won’t be finding any diary. But I suppose it’s harmless enough. So long as he stays indoors. I plan to keep him inside overnight.”
Lily beamed. “A kind and wise decision, my lord.” She snapped her fingers. “Rex, follow me.”
“His name is Attila,” the marquess called after them.
She led Rand, Kit, and the dog across the marble-floored great hall and through to Alban’s suite. Once there, she patted the bed. “Up!” she commanded, and the huge animal landed where she wanted—with a leap that made the bed ropes groan.
Rand grinned. “My father would kill you if he saw this.”
“Nonsense. Your father adores me. I saved his favorite dog.” She grinned in return, stroking the animal’s stiff fur. “Kit, would you run to the kitchen and fetch some meat? Cut into cubes, if possible.”
He made her a mock bow. “By all means. Even the exalted marquess believes you walk on water, so your wish is my command.”
As he marched to do her bidding, she giggled. In spite of everything, she giggled. “This is going to work, Rand. I know it.”
Holding one bedpost, he leaned to press a kiss to her lips. “Don’t get your hopes up, will you? Even if we find a recent journal, I’ll have to translate it, and we’ll have to hope it turns out to be incriminating. And then we’ll have to convince the marquess it says what I claim it does—unlikely to be a simple task—and that such evidence merits freeing Bennett and allowing Margery to wed him. We’re a long way from victory, sweetheart.”
“But we’re about to take the first step. I feel it.”
When Kit returned with a bowl of meat, she took Alban’s fancy silver inkwell and held it to Rex’s nose. “Diary,” she said clearly.
“That’s not a diary—” Rand started.
“Hush. I’m going to have him smell diaries, too, and I don’t want to confuse him. One word for a scent is enough.” She fed the dog a piece of meat, then waved the inkwell beneath his nose again. “Diary. Diary.” She fed him more meat, then snapped her fingers. “Down. Come along. You, too,” she said to the men.
Rand barked, eliciting a hoot of laughter from Kit as they followed her.
She hurried back upstairs to the library and through to the small room beyond, Rex trotting by her side. Once there, she took down a stack of Alban’s journals. “Sniff, Rex. Diary.” She opened one and held it under his nose, then another and another. Each time he sniffed a page, she fed him another reward. “Diary. Diary.”
Kit and Rand just looked at each other and shrugged.
After the dog had sniffed a dozen different journals and received a dozen treats, Lily leaned to look into his eyes. “Diary. Find another diary. Now, Rex. Go.”
Without hesitation, the mastiff bolted from the room.
They all ran after him.
Back downstairs, through the great hall, into Alban’s bedchamber. By the time they caught up, the three of them were panting harder than the dog.
“Diary,” Lily reminded him.
He went straight to the silver inkwell.
She released a strangled laugh. “Good, Rex.” She fed him a piece of meat, holding the inkwell out to Rand. “Will you take this out of here? He’ll never find anything else with this in the room. It smells too strong.”
“Does it?” Kit wondered.
Rand waved the inkwell beneath his friend’s nose.
“Whew.” Kit blinked. “It does stink.”
Rand smelled it himself. “Tannin, and something else I cannot identify. Alban always mixed his own ink. Plain lampblack and linseed oil wouldn’t do for him.”
He set the inkwell outside the room, shutting the door for good measure when the mastiff looked after it longingly.
The three of them watched him sniff all around the chamber.
“This isn’t going to work,” Kit said. “There isn’t an inch of this room we haven’t looked in or over or under.”
“Give him a chance,” Lily said. She set the bowl of meat on the mantel. “Diary, Rex. Find a diary.”
Rand gestured toward the night table. “He hasn’t noticed all those books.”
“He’s not searching for books. He’s searching for a scent. Those books weren’t handwritten by Alban, so they don’t smell of his ink.”
Rex trotted into the sitting room, sniffed around there, and came back.
“Perhaps,” Rand said, “we should lead him to some other chambers. Ones we haven’t searched yet.”
“Give him a chance,” Lily said.
Rex sniffed all around the bedchamber again, jumping on and off the bed twice in the process. The coverlet slid to the floor, and Kit bent to pick it up. “He’s—”
“Give him a chance,” Lily said.
Rex checked out the dressing room. Thoroughly. Lily walked to the doorway and watched. “Diary. Diary. Rex, find another diary.”
Back in the bedchamber, the dog sniffed around once more. Then he stopped before the marble fireplace and sat on his haunches, gazing into it.
He barked once.
The three humans looked at each other.
“He’s done,” Kit said. “He didn’t find it.”
Refusing to believe that, Lily knelt by Rex’s head. He licked her cheek, then looked back at the fireplace and barked.
“He thinks it’s there,” she said. “In the fireplace.”
Rand lifted a poker and stirred the cold ashes. “Nothing. There’s nothing here.”
“Maybe Alban burned it,
” Lily whispered, afraid that if she said the words out loud, she might somehow make them true.
“Maybe.” Rand set the poker back in its wrought iron stand with a final-sounding clunk. “I suppose he might have, if he were worried enough that someone might find it.”
Disappointment fisted Lily’s heart. She stepped toward Rand, toward the comforting heat of his body, the comforting circle of his arms.
Would this be the last day she ever felt that comfort?
Rex barked again. And again. And again, gazing at Lily as though he was trying to tell her something but didn’t have the words.
“He thinks it’s in there,” she said with a sigh. “It must have burned.”
“No.” Kit walked across the room, then back, staring at the fireplace. He poked his head into the sitting room, then looked again at the fireplace. “There’s space behind there.”
“What do you mean?” Lily asked.
“Empty space. Maybe a hiding place. I cannot believe I failed to notice it immediately. Can’t you see the proportions are off, in both this room and the next?”
“We’re not architects,” Rand said dryly, but with a fresh note of hope in his voice. “How do we get to this space?”
Kit started feeling around the paneling above the mantelpiece. “There has to be a latch, or a lever, or something…” He moved to the side, running his hands down the wood to the floor.
And there it was. A little snick reverberated in the room, and a panel swung open.
Lily stepped in first.
A secret room. No, a space. It was tall as a man but no more than three feet deep. Just wide enough to step into and access the area behind the fireplace, a nook so dark she couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face.
She heard the soft hiss of a flame being struck. Rand stepped in holding a candle, illuminating the hidden space and its shelves.
Shutting her eyes in horror, Lily turned away.
But she’d seen what was on the shelves. Traps of all sizes, some with steel teeth large enough to capture a man. A bloody saw. Well-used rope. Cuffs. Whips.
And a lone, leather-bound journal.
Rand reached for it and hurried her out, closing the door with a bang.
Taking the candle from Rand, Kit reopened the panel, peeked in, and slammed it shut again.
Lily’s limbs shook. “What—what were all those things for, Rand?”
“I’m not certain I want to know. But I imagine this diary will reveal all.”
“Will you show your father that space?”
He was silent a long moment. “No. Not unless I have to. Not unless the diary fails to reveal Alban’s plan to kill Bennett, or the marquess refuses to believe my translation.”
She nodded. It was a sound decision. The marquess had clearly loved Alban, and there was no sense disillusioning him more than was necessary. After all, Alban was already dead.
Never had Lily, nice Lily, thought she’d be glad for a man’s demise. “Never say never,” she whispered.
Rand slanted her a glance, then slowly opened the journal and flipped to the final entry. “‘Nineteenth of August, 1677,’” he read aloud before looking up. “The day Alban died.”
“We’ve got him,” Kit said with a smile.
Lily dropped to her knees and buried her face in Rex’s neck, wetting his fur with her tears. After a long moment, she got to her feet, reached for the bowl of meat, and set it on the floor.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
SIXTY-FOUR
ALL THE WAY back to Trentingham, Lily and Rand and Kit reminded one another that the diary might not reveal anything incriminating.
But they couldn’t help but believe that it would.
It was late when they arrived, and Lily was exhausted. She’d hardly slept a wink those long nights waiting for word from Rand.
The rest of the family were already abed. After a yawning Parkinson let them in, Rand drew Lily close and dropped a kiss on the top of her head. “Go to sleep,” he told her. “You cannot help with this, anyway. In the morning you’ll feel better, and with luck I’ll have good news.”
She nodded and took herself off to her room.
Parkinson led the way up to the library, then lit a few candles and went back to bed himself. Rand and Kit settled at a round wooden table to decipher the diary.
No sooner had Rand opened the cover than Rose walked in, carrying another candle and wearing nothing but a white night rail with a red wrapper tied over it. Although the garments were concealing, their effect was undeniably intimate. She set down the candle and rubbed her eyes. “You found the journal?”
“We did,” Kit said. “Would you like to help us decode it?”
Rand opened his mouth to protest, but before he could, she took a chair. “Of course. Lily asked me to help, because I’m good at that sort of thing.”
She was good at that sort of thing. Inside of an hour, they had Alban’s final entry translated, Rand and Rose doing most of the work while Kit sat back and watched.
Rand noticed that Kit mostly watched Rose, not the diary.
“What does it say?” Kit asked.
“‘I’m going to do it,’” Rose quoted. “‘The time has come.’”
“It’s not enough.” Rand rubbed the back of his neck. “We need to find something that clearly implies murder. The rest of this entry’s no more than a recitation of his day.”
“Then we do the one before it,” Kit said.
Rand sent him a wry glance. “We?”
“Hey, we all do what we can. I found the thing, didn’t I?”
“With Rex’s help,” Rand conceded.
Rose went to a cabinet and poured them each a measure of Madeira, herself included. Then they went back to work.
Another hour passed, an hour of slow but steady progress.
“We’re going to find the evidence,” Rose said, adding to the ever-growing column of words they’d managed to decipher. “It’s here. I know it.” She looked up. “He was a wicked man, wasn’t he, your brother?”
Rand nodded, afraid to be optimistic, but feeling Rose was right. They were going to find their proof. Then he’d just need to convince his father.
They puzzled out a few more words of an entry dealing with the sale of some cattle. “You’re going to take care of my sister,” Rose said while scribbling some notes. “And I expect you to be kind to her all your days.”
He looked up. “I’ll cherish her like no man has ever cherished a woman.”
“You’d better,” she said darkly, then jotted another word.
A smile on his face, Kit watched her and sipped his Madeira.
“‘The date draws near,’” Rand read when the entry was complete. “‘If she is to be mine, steps must be taken.’”
“Not enough,” Kit said. “He could be talking about a horse.”
“But he isn’t.” Rose reached to refill his goblet. “He’s talking about murder. Another entry. Let’s get back to work.”
She seemed tireless, and Rand was rarely tempted to sleep when faced with a puzzle. Especially one this important.
“Lady Rose,” Kit started.
“Hmm?” She crossed out a word and wrote another.
“Rand led me to believe you were, ah, a mite antagonistic concerning his relationship with your sister.”
“Well, that,” she said, “was before I got to know the man properly. I didn’t feel he was good enough for her at first. But now…”
Her soft smile said it all. Although she’d had other reasons to oppose the match than those she was willing to admit, Rand knew her new attitude was genuine. Miraculously, she seemed truly happy for him and Lily. And approving.
It would be an enormous relief for Lily, he knew, and for him as well. And now, when it seemed everything might work out after all, that seemed more important than ever.
Several hours and four entries later, at last they hit gold.
Rand sat back, staring at the page.
; “Read it,” Kit said.
“‘Margery begged and begged,’” Rose read softly, “‘but Hawkridge refused as always.’” She paused, glancing up at Rand. “He called your father Hawkridge?”
Rand shrugged. “Ours is not a warm family.”
“You’ll be warm now,” she warned, “with my sister. Or—”
“Peace, Rose. I love Lily more than my life. Read the rest, will you?”
Kit laughed. At a time like this, he laughed. If Rand hadn’t been so tense, he’d have reached over and slapped him. But in his present mood, he feared he might do his old friend permanent damage.
“‘Hawkridge refused as always,’” Rose continued slowly. “‘I followed Margery to Armstrong’s place, her sobbing all the way. And there, they plotted to elope.’” She reached for her Madeira and took a swallow. “Here,” she said, handing Rand their notes. “You read the rest.”
He took a deep breath before reading, for the first time, the individual words they’d translated, all pieced together. “‘When I overheard their plans, I felt I couldn’t draw air. My heart swelled to such a size it filled my chest, squeezing my lungs, robbing me of sustenance. I cannot allow this to happen. Margery will be mine. They leave in a week, and before that, I must kill him.’”
“There it is,” Kit said admiringly.
“Yes, there it is,” Rose echoed with a satisfied sigh.
“Thank God.” Rand sent a quick thanks to heaven. “And both of you. If—when—Lily and I wed, I’ll be silently thanking you as we recite our vows.”
Dawn was breaking when they left the library. Rose had made peace with the fact that he’d chosen Lily over her, and amazingly, she and Rand were friends. But Kit, Rand was sure, wanted to be more than friends with Rose.
A shame she hadn’t seemed to really notice him.
“Go to Lily,” she told Rand. “Go tell her what we’ve found.”
“Go to her in her chamber? You…you’ll come along, won’t you?”
“No.” She flashed the sort of smile that only Rose could flash. “But if you’re not out in five minutes, I’m coming in. Even you, Rand Nesbitt, cannot ravish a woman in five minutes flat.”
Rand didn’t need a second invitation.
