by Jo Barrett
His wife cast him a tender, understanding smile.
Crittenden's head, however, snapped up. “I beg your pardon?"
He looked away from her sweet face and focused on his friend. “Elizabeth. She reviled me most explicitly."
"I had no idea,” Crittenden murmured then sipped his tea with a heavy sigh. “I stayed away from England too long."
He grinned at Crittenden. “I, for one, am glad you've returned."
"As am I,” Agatha said, with a beaming smile. “One can never have too many friends."
Magnus’ fork clattered onto his plate as his gaze focused on the past.
Agatha reached for his hand. “What is it? Magnus, what have you remembered?"
"The only other woman I've ever known that disliked me—” He turned his eyes to her, and blinked away the thought. “No. It can't be her. It's preposterous to even think it."
"Preposterous or not, it's a start,” Crittenden said. “Who are you thinking of?"
He turned to him and said, “Beatrice Hayden. Although it's beyond imaginable."
Agatha adjusted her glasses and peered closer at him, her mouth set in a somewhat firm line. “Then why did you say her name?"
A slow easy grin pulled at his lips. “Easy, love. Green is not your color.” He took her hand and kissed the pulse point at her wrist, winning a slight gasp. “But to set the matter straight, I have not had any other connections with that woman other than she was Elizabeth's friend."
"So you didn't—” Crittenden said, his hand waving in the air.
"No, I did not. As I've said before, several times."
"But you did dance with her,” Agatha said.
"She approached me. I thought it odd at the time. I'd always thought she hated me,” he said with a shrug.
"You spoke, I presume,” she said. “What did she say? Anything that might give us a clue?"
"I have to admit I'd paid her little attention. My thoughts were occupied on another figure across the room,” he said with a wink.
She attempted to hide her grin. “What did she say?"
He gazed down at the pristine tablecloth and tried to relive the conversation. “She complained about my inattention. Said something about the ladies in the room. And she said—” his head snapped up, “she said it was time for me to find a new wife."
"Good Lord,” Crittenden said, flopping back against his chair.
"Damnation,” Agatha grumbled. “I've been a complete idiot. I can't imagine how I'd missed it."
"What did you miss?” Magnus asked.
"First that horrible comment at our wedding, then as she left, she looked straight up at me in my rooms and gave me the oddest sort of nod. I'd dismissed it all at the time, my thoughts concerned with a different matter entirely. But her perfume, she'd worn that scent at our wedding. I cannot believe I was so blind to the facts."
She shook her head, tossing her napkin to the table and rose from her chair. She stopped in front of the window and stared out at the garden. “And I call myself a scientist,” she groused.
Magnus stole up behind her and slipped his arms around her waist. Pressing his cheek against her hair, he said, “We've all been blind to the facts, love. The entire incident is not of the ordinary sort. And we still don't know that it's she for certain."
"I know it's her. I can feel it."
He chuckled and kissed her cheek. “Now that isn't a very scientific answer."
She let out a small giggle and leaned back against him. “No it isn't, but it would seem that where you're concerned I have difficulty thinking clearly."
"Is that so?” He nuzzled her neck, recalling every moment of their lovemaking and nearly forgot that they weren't alone. But they would be—tonight and for many, many nights to come.
Crittenden rattled his cutlery. “Would you two stop cooing over there and get back to the matter at hand?"
She cupped the back of his head and held him close for a moment more, then stepped from his arms. “You're quite right, my lord. We've much to discuss,” she said.
Magnus ground his teeth together. “Yes, like when are you leaving?"
"You just asked me to stay,” Crittenden said with a howl of laughter.
"Since we now have a suspect, I see no reason you need to hang about. We've only need to watch for her,” he replied, ready for his friend to leave so he could take his wife directly up the stairs and make love to her all afternoon. She'd be safe in his bed and in his arms.
Her beautiful blush proved she'd thought something similar, he'd bet his life on it. But that thought sobered him. Beatrice wanted to kill Agatha, and if she succeeded he would suffer more pain than any fire, any wound he could ever sustain. He'd rather be dead than live his life without her.
"I think we should set a trap,” Miss Reynolds said, as she strolled into the dining room.
"Is listening in on private conversations a habit of yours?” George asked, a frown on his face.
"Only when it's important.” She took a plate and sat beside him at the table. “We'd best plan quickly too."
"What sort of trap?” Magnus asked.
"One in which it appears I am alone, of course,” Agatha said.
He gripped her by the shoulders. “Absolutely not. You are not to be alone for even a moment, do you understand?"
"I won't be alone. You and George and Katherine will be waiting for her to strike."
"You bloody well will not,” Crittenden said, jumping to his feet and pointing a finger at Katherine.
"I don't like to be ordered about, my lord. And I suggest you put that finger away, or you may very well lose it,” she said, brandishing a carving knife.
Ignoring George and Miss Reynolds’ as they continued to argue, Magnus looked to his wife. “You cannot put yourself in such a position, Agatha. I won't allow it. You cannot—I cannot—” The thought of losing her sucked the air from his lungs.
She smiled tenderly and touched his cheek. “It's the only way, my love. We have no proof it is her, so we must bring her out into the open."
He jerked her into his arms and held onto her, his body shaking. “I won't lose you now,” he whispered harshly. “Not after all we've been through, not after waiting so long to find you."
"You won't lose me, I promise, you won't,” she vowed, her arms wrapped tightly around him.
"She's right, you know,” Miss Reynolds said, breaking into Magnus’ horrific thoughts. “We either set a trap for her, or wait until she makes her next move. Either way, Agatha's life is in danger. It would be best if we were prepared."
Crittenden sighed. “It's damned annoying when you're right."
Magnus turned and looked at their friends as he continued to hold Agatha against his chest, wanting, needing to protect her with all that he was. “This has to end."
"Then I suggest we get started,” Miss Reynolds said.
Magnus assisted Agatha into her chair and sat down beside her, never letting go of her hand. They sipped tea and nibbled at the remains of their breakfast, as they designed their snare.
"The orangery is the ideal location. With all the plants there are numerous places for us to hide,” Katherine said.
Her husband gave a solemn nod. “Agreed. The question is, how soon will she strike again?"
"I would think she'd try as soon as possible. She's not let up one bit on her attempts since she began,” Crittenden said, filling is fork.
It would seem little turned the gentleman from his meals, Agatha thought. “George, I've noticed you have a rather rapacious appetite. Did you not like the food in India?"
He chuckled behind his napkin. “Sorry to make a pig of myself. You are a truly keen observer, my dear. And you are correct. I'm afraid the spices did not set well with me. I longed for solid English fare. Had it prepared whenever possible, but it wasn't quite the same.” He lifted another hardy helping to his grinning lips.
"What of American food?” Katherine sipped her tea, eyeing him over her cup.
&nbs
p; "I've not yet sampled any."
"Then perhaps it's time you should."
Magnus cleared his throat, apparently not having missed the subtle innuendoes. “Back to the matter at hand."
Katherine nodded, a faint blush to her cheeks. “Yes, of course. Now, I suggest that Agatha go about her regular tasks. That way we won't alert her to our suspicions."
Magnus stroked his jaw, reminding Agatha of the many kisses she'd placed there during the long, wonderful hours of the night.
"Not too regular,” he said. “After all that's happened, it would be reasonable that we'd take some precautions."
"True,” Agatha said, pulling her thoughts back to safer, more important ground. “Katherine could act as my guard, so to speak. We could work on an experiment together, then she could go to fetch something, leaving me alone."
"I still don't like it,” George grumbled.
"Neither do I, but we've little choice,” Magnus replied.
They agreed on a span of time and Agatha rose to return to her rooms to change into a work dress.
"I shall be back shortly,” Magnus said, rising with her.
"You don't need to escort me. Tess is in my rooms, I shan't be alone."
"Nevertheless, I shall see you to the stairs at the very least."
"Very well.” She smiled, letting his attention flow through her like sweet summer wine.
At the bottom of the stairs he turned her into his arms and kissed her. “Be careful, love,” he said, brushing her cheeks with the back of his fingers.
"I shall be fine.” She pecked a kiss to his lips then turned and climbed a handful of steps.
Pausing, she looked back at him. His gaze, so intent, so warm, so full of love, her heart felt near to bursting with joy. “Have I told you today, that I love you?"
With one foot on the bottom stair, his hands wrapped around the end of the banister, a soft smile spread across his face. “I believe you said something to that effect a few hours ago."
"Ah, yes,” she chuckled. “Well, I think it bears repeating. I love you, Magnus, with all my heart."
He was before her in an instant, his strong arms around her. “I shall never tire of hearing it."
The tightness of his voice brought tears to her eyes, but she kept them from slipping away. “And I shall never tire of saying it."
He kissed her—hard—then pulled away before she could be lost in the sensation, although her heart pounded beneath her breast from the heady taste of him.
"I love you, Agatha, but I shall never be able to tell you how much."
"As long as you try—often,” she said, her voice trembling with emotion.
"Everyday, my love.” His lips touched hers then moved across her cheek to her ear, his arms wound around her body, pressing her to his broad chest. “Everyday, for as long as I live."
"We shall get through this and have many happy days together,” she whispered.
"Yes,” he said, pulling away, setting her at arm's length. “Yes, we will.” A smile brightened his face. “Now, off with you, so we can bring an end to this business."
She pecked a quick kiss to his lips then hurried the rest of the way up. She spared a quick glance over her shoulder at him standing on the stairs before slipping down the hall.
Magnus made his way back toward the dining room, and met Crittenden in the hall.
Miss Reynolds brushed past, a rosy tint to her cheeks. “I'll just go change into something more appropriate,” she said, and hurried up the stairs.
Magnus shot Crittenden a look, and the man merely smiled.
"I'll not remind you of your mother and her machinations, but you are well and into it, you know."
His friend folded his arms and studied him. “True, but you can't be the only one enjoying yourself."
"I happen to be married, a status, as I recall, you wish to avoid."
Crittenden chuckled. “After seeing you these past days, even with this difficult situation, you've never been so content. So happy. I would even venture to guess that I've not seen you smile or laugh so much since I've known you. Makes a man—consider things."
Magnus nodded, feeling a small flush of embarrassment to his skin.
"Agatha is good for you,” Crittenden stated.
"I couldn't agree more.” His gaze strayed to the staircase. “I only wish I were as good for her."
Crittenden slapped a hand to his shoulder and steered him toward the orangery. “You cannot blame yourself for this business. It will be handled soon enough and the two of you can get on with your marriage, safe and content in your daily routines."
Magnus nodded as they strolled down the hall, then came to an abrupt halt. “My God. Routine,” he rasped. “She knows Agatha's routine."
His heart racing, he rushed back down the hall to the stairs.
"What are you thinking?” Crittenden asked, his steps keeping pace with Magnus.
"She knows Agatha will return to her room to change into her work dress. She's done so from the first day she began her experiments."
"But she said her maid would be there."
"She assumed,” Magnus rasped as he paused at her door, listening for any sound.
Crittenden's wide eyes met his. “Voices,” he mouthed. “The maid?"
Magnus’ heart fell to the bottom of his chest as he shook his head. He motioned for Crittenden to remain at Agatha's door, while he moved down the hall to his rooms, hoping to surprise Beatrice through his connecting door, and praying he wouldn't be too late.
[Back to Table of Contents]
Chapter Fourteen
"Oh, Tess,” Agatha called to her maid lying still as a stone on the floor beside the bed.
"She can't hear you,” Beatrice said.
Agatha had seen Tess’ feet sticking out from behind the bed on the far side of the room, but hadn't managed to cross to her before Beatrice appeared from the dressing room holding a gun. Agatha's gun.
"Is she—” she swallowed her fear, she could show no sign of weakness.
Beatrice studied her before answering. “No. I've not decided her fate as of yet."
Clasping her hands before her to keep them from shaking, she took a deep breath. “But you've decided mine."
"Yes. I'd first intended to push you out the window, but now,” she said, motioning with the gun, “I think I'll simply shoot you."
"You won't succeed in escaping. We'd deducted it was you. Magnus will find you."
"Oh, but he'll have no proof. After all, this is your gun.” She waved the gun toward the secretary. “Sit down, Lady Leighton. You're going to write a letter."
Agatha moved leisurely, praying Magnus and George would wonder what was keeping her so long, but they were likely hiding in the orangery by now. She hoped Katherine didn't appear. She had no doubt her friend would do something rash, headstrong was too small a word to describe Katherine Reynolds.
Agatha sat down at the desk, knowing full well what she wanted her to do. “A suicide note, I presume."
"You are the smart one, aren't you?” Beatrice eased closer, but not close enough that Agatha could do anything. “Start writing."
"What do you wish for me to say?"
"Oh, the usual. Your husband doesn't love you, and you're unhappy. This dismal house has driven you quite mad and you wish to end it all."
"No one will believe it, no one that knows me,” she said, stalling for time, trying to come up with some way out of this horrendous predicament.
"No one does know you, silly girl,” she hissed. “You were a speck on the wall for too many seasons. No one will care that you're gone."
"My husband will care."
She laughed, a frightening maddening sort of laugh. “That fool of a man doesn't know the first thing about love.” Her gaze narrowed. “And neither do you."
Agatha turned in her seat, away from the pen and paper. “Then how will killing me make him suffer? If he knows nothing of love, then my death will surely not cause him any grief."
"When did you suspect he cared for me?"
"It was obvious at Crittenden's ball. He couldn't keep his eyes off of you. I nearly laughed aloud when I realized who'd caught his attention."
"And if he'd not chosen a new wife, what then? How would you have found your revenge?"
"If you must know, I was going to marry the fool,” she said, her face contorted into a distasteful scowl. “I was ready to marry the disgusting beast, disgrace him at every turn, and send him to the poorhouse."
Much became clear to Agatha. Her years of observation brought a good deal to light. “You dislike men immensely. So much so that you avoid them at all costs."
"They're all oafs. What of it?"
"Nothing, except it explains quite a bit. She was more than your friend, wasn't she?"
"You don't know anything,” she growled. “Just shut up and write that note."
"I know that you wish to kill me so that Magnus will suffer, as you suffered. Your words, not mine. That leads me to believe you loved Elizabeth as more than a friend, but I suspect she didn't love you in the same way."
The gun shook in her hand. “She loved me! It was him, it was all his fault. We were happy until he came along."
"But you were never lovers. She may have not loved Magnus, but she never loved you either. You were merely a friend to her, nothing more. She wanted rank and money—and men, but never you."
The gun shook violently. “You're wrong!"
Magnus opened the connecting door and eased inside the room. Agatha held her breath and forced her gaze to remain on Beatrice, lest she give him away.
"I am rarely wrong in matters of deduction,” Agatha said, forcing a cool reserve to her voice, one she did not feel, by any means. “I also know that you will not succeed in this plan of yours."
"You little nobody!” She lifted the gun higher and took aim.
Magnus lunged from behind, throwing Beatrice to the ground.
"Magnus!” Agatha lurched forward, but Crittenden burst through the door and placed himself between her and the pair wrestling on the floor.
