by Laura Landon
Eve looked at the date—August 12th. Dr. Milton had been murdered on August 13th.
Her blood ran cold. She needed to study the duchess’s entries more carefully. She needed to read them again. Perhaps she’d misunderstood her meaning. But she knew she hadn’t.
A loud pounding at the door startled her. She tucked the duchess’s journal beneath a stack of folders and raced to the door.
“Miss Cornwell!”
Eve threw open the door and stared at a winded Thomas. “What is it, Thomas? Is Dr. Cornwell all right?”
“Yes, miss. He’s fine. It’s Lord Sheffield. You’re to come right away!”
Eve ran from the house and to Gideon’s cottage. Someone wanted him dead, just like they’d wanted his mother dead. And they’d succeeded with Gideon’s mother. But Eve wouldn’t allow anything to happen to Gideon. She couldn’t. She wasn’t sure she could survive if he weren’t somewhere in her world.
CHAPTER 19
Eve couldn’t cover the distance to Shadowdown cottage quickly enough. When she finally reached it she didn’t knock, but threw the door wide and raced into the foyer.
Her heart pounded and her knees trembled beneath her as she rushed down the narrow hall. She just wanted him to be alive. She just needed to look at him and see that the murderer hadn’t achieved his goal.
She rushed through the door that led to the study and stopped short.
Gideon sat in a chair. His hair was mussed, his shirt torn. But he was alive. From across the room she could see bruises that darkened his left cheek. His right eye was swollen and by morning she was sure he wouldn’t be able to open it, and there was a gash on his arm that her father was sewing. But he was alive.
She took one tentative step into the room, then another. Gideon had heard her and looked toward the doorway. Their gazes caught and held, and…he smiled.
Her hands flew to her moth to stifle a cry that wanted to escape, and before she could stop them, a river of tears streamed down her cheeks.
He didn’t speak, but extended his uninjured arm. She raced across the room. When she reached him, she wrapped her arms around him and held him to her. Then she placed her trembling hands on his cheeks and brought her mouth down to his.
She knew she shouldn’t kiss him in front of her father, but she couldn’t stop herself. She’d been so frightened. So terrified that she might have lost him. She couldn’t bear the thought. Not when she realized how much she loved him.
She broke their kiss, but couldn’t stand the thought of separating herself from him. She ran her fingers down his face, then brushed his dark hair from his brow.
“Are you all right?” she whispered.
“I’m fine, Eve. Just a scratch.”
She looked down as her father knotted the last stitch. “Is he all right, Papa?”
“Yes, Eve. Lord Sheffield will survive.”
“What happened?”
“Someone broke into the house.”
“How could they? The windows have bars on them.”
“Only the ground floor windows have bars. My attacker came in from one of the upstairs windows.”
“Did you recognize him?”
He nodded in the affirmative. “It was Clyve Woodman.”
“Your Cook’s son?”
“Yes.”
Eve struggled to think what this meant in relationship to what she’d just discovered. As if she were hit with a stunning bolt of lightning, another piece of the puzzle fell into place.
Evidence was mounting, but she didn’t want to face what she’d discovered. It would destroy Gideon and his entire family.
The earth shifted beneath her.
“Are you all right?” Gideon asked, tightening his hold on her.
“Yes.” She tried to calm her breathing. “Did Mr. Wallace’s men catch him?”
“They’re searching the grounds right now.” Gideon squeezed her fingers. “Don’t worry, Eve. They’ll find him.”
“What if they don’t?”
He smiled.
Eve’s heart skipped a beat. How could he be so cavalier about what had happened to him? How could he seem so relaxed? Didn’t he realize he could have been killed? This was the second attempt on his life. What if the killer got away again?
Eve’s father interrupted the inner turmoil threatening to consume her.
“Eve,” he said as he finished securing the bandage on Gideon’s arm. “Go to Lord Sheffield’s room and find a clean shirt. It won’t do for him to greet his father and brother in a torn and bloodied shirt.”
“Have they returned from Tumberline?”
“They returned a short while ago,” Gideon said. “Father sent word that they’d come as soon as they changed horses and got something to eat. I expect them soon. But we already know what they’ve discovered,” Gideon finished. “Tumberline isn’t involved in this.”
“No, it isn’t him.”
Eve left to get what Gideon would need, and returned with a clean shirt. She assisted him in putting it on, then helped him to the sofa while her father cleaned up the things he’d needed to sew Gideon’s wound.
“Do you know why Clyve Woodman would want to kill you?” her father asked.
A frown furrowed Gideon’s features before he shook his head. “I can’t imagine, sir. There was an incident several years ago, but I can’t believe he seeks revenge for something that happened that long ago.”
Eve reached for Gideon’s hand and held it. She knew it had nothing to do with the events of the past. She knew the reason Clyve Woodman wanted him dead was because he was being paid to kill him. Suddenly, a muffled pop echoed from outside. Then another. And another.
Eve’s breath caught. A few seconds later, the door burst open and the Duke of Townsend rushed into the cottage. Gideon’s brother followed him.
“Gideon!” the duke yelled from the foyer.
“I’m fine, Father. We’re in the study.”
The Duke of Townsend and Lord Benjamin rushed into the room. “What’s happened? We heard gunshots.”
“It’s nothing, Father. Someone—”
“Your son was attacked, Your Grace,” Eve’s father said. “He suffered a knife wound. But it was minor in comparison to what could have happened.”
“And you were going to gloss over it, as if it were no more than a sliver in your finger?” His Grace said with an accusing tone to his voice. The dark countenance to his features spoke volumes. “I do not appreciate your attempt to keep me in the dark, Gideon.” He turned to face Eve’s father. “Thank you, Dr. Cornwell.” His Grace turned his attention back to Gideon. “Do you know who attacked you?”
“It was Clyve Woodman.”
There was a short silence before Gideon’s brother spoke. “That eliminates the need for us to explain what we found at Tumberline Estate.”
“I gather you found Baron Tumberline innocent of wanting to eliminate me to gain Tumberline.”
“More than that,” Lord Benjamin said. “Baron Tumberline was in the process of leaving Tumberline.”
“Leaving?”
“Yes. It seems he has married a titled widow lady who lives nearby, and they will reside at her ‘much larger’ estate. He no longer has need for Tumberline Manor, and passes it to you with his blessing.”
“I see,” Gideon said.
“Which takes us back to the question,” His Grace said. “Why does Clyve Woodman want you dead?”
A shiver raced down her back. She knew why Clyve Woodman wanted Gideon dead, but how could she say what she thought—what she knew? She could scarcely believe it herself.
What if Gideon’s mother and Dr. Milton were wrong? What if Ernesta Wayland, the Duchess of Townsend, was innocent? But Eve knew she wasn’t. She knew Gideon’s mother and Dr. Milton had been right. And they’d paid with their lives.
Eve’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. She rose to answer it. She was glad for the opportunity to escape, even if it was only for a few moments. Her mind swirle
d with information and she needed to sort everything out.
She walked to the front entrance and admitted Inspector Wallace. His features were grim. Eve showed him into the study.
“What were the gunshots about?” His Grace asked, even before Wallace could greet the men in the room.
“I’m afraid the intruder is dead. My men tried to take him alive, but he gave us no choice.”
“I see,” His Grace said.
Eve stood beside Gideon, and when Mr. Wallace shared the news of Clyve Woodman’s death, he reached for her hand and clasped her fingers in his.
“It’s been years since we’ve had any dealings with Woodman. What do you know about him now?” Gideon asked. “Is he wanted by the authorities?”
“Yes. There is a reward for his arrest in connection with the murders of two women. It seems Woodman has quite a temper and when crossed is quite dangerous.”
“I see,” His Grace repeated. “But that doesn’t explain why he would want to kill my son.”
“No, and I haven’t discovered any connection to you or your family other than that his mother works as your cook. But his intent was obvious. The outside of the house beneath Lord Sheffield’s sleeping quarters was soaked with kerosene. My guess is that after he made sure Lord Sheffield was dead, he intended to set the house afire to cover his lordship’s murder.”
Eve pulled her hand from Gideon’s and clutched at her stomach. This was too much to comprehend. How could anyone be so evil? And not just Clyve Woodman, but the person who’d hired him.
She stumbled back a few steps. She needed to escape. Needed to go where she could be alone. Where she could breathe. Where she could think. “If you will excuse me, I’ll prepare tea. There’s something stronger on the sideboard,” she said, motioning to a marble-topped table against the wall.
Gideon’s brother moved toward the decanters and glasses, but Eve hardly noticed his movements. She was too intent on escaping to take note.
Her heart pounded in her breast as she made her way to the kitchen where she and Gideon and Lettie had spent so many peaceful mornings and afternoons. She heated water for tea, then gathered the dishes she’d need without even thinking of what she was doing. Her mind was too confused to do any task requiring more detail.
She knew the question that was on everyone’s mind. The question His Grace had already asked. “Why would Clyve Woodman want to kill Gideon?”
And they would never…never…come up with the correct answer to that question. The answer was too unbelievable. Too incredible. Too implausible to even consider.
Eve lifted the kettle from the stove and tried to pour the boiling water into the flowered tea pot. But her hands shook too much and she quickly set the kettle back on the stove.
“Eve,” her father’s voice said from behind her. “Are you all right?”
She turned, looked at her father for a brief moment, then rushed into his arms. “Oh, Papa.”
“What is it, Eve? He’s all right, you know. He wasn’t injured that severely. And the man responsible is no longer a threat.”
Eve shook her head, then swiped at the lone tear that trickled down her cheek. “Oh, Papa. I don’t know what to do. It’s not what it seems.”
“What’s not?”
“Anything. Everything.”
Eve stepped away from her father, then clasped his hands in hers. “Papa, make your excuses as soon as you can, and return home. The files we found are in the study. The Duchess of Townsend’s journal is there, too. Read it. I need you to tell me that what I read is not real. I need your—”
She couldn’t say more. The lump in her throat would not allow her to say more. “Please, Papa. You have to read Her Grace’s journal.”
“I will, sweetheart. I’ll read it now. Calm yourself. I’m with you. You’re not alone.”
Eve nodded. As usual, her father said the perfect words.
“I’ll make my excuses and leave immediately,” he said.
Eve nodded. “Thank you, Papa. I’ll be home shortly. As soon as everyone leaves.”
Her father gathered her in his arms and gave her a comforting squeeze, then left the kitchen. He was already gone when she carried the tea tray into the study.
She was the only one who cared for tea. The men had their drinks. And for the first time in her life, she wanted something stronger than tea.
. . .
Gideon waited until Ben accompanied His Grace to the door, then turned to Eve. Ben would be back soon. After what had happened, his father and brother decided it wasn’t safe for Gideon to stay alone. Ben had volunteered to spend the night.
He didn’t have much time to talk to Eve, but he needed to find out what was wrong. Because there was definitely something wrong. And it was more than just the fact that he’d been injured.
Her face was as pale as the china cup she’d tried to lift to her lips several times, then returned to her lap when her hands shook too much to take a drink without spilling the tea. Her breathing hadn’t calmed, but remained ragged. Several times her gaze darted to the door as if she couldn’t wait for the opportunity to escape. But most telling was the fact that it was impossible for her to hold his gaze when she caught him looking at her. Yes, something was severely wrong.
“I need to get home,” she said when she returned from carrying the tea tray to the kitchen.
Gideon crossed the room before she could leave. He stepped in front of her to prevent her from escaping. “You’re not going anywhere until we talk. What’s wrong, Eve.”
She lowered her gaze to the floor. “Nothing’s wrong. I just need to go home. It’s been a long day.”
Gideon clamped his hands on her arms and pulled her to him. “I know this is difficult for you,” he whispered in her ear. “The cottage was broken into and a man was killed. I’m sorry you were involved. I would have spared you if I could.”
She placed her palms against his chest and pushed away from him. She displayed more strength than he thought she had left after this grueling day. But when he looked at her, it wasn’t only anger he saw on her face. But tears in her eyes. Tears she wasn’t able to stop from spilling down her cheeks.
“You think I am so delicate I am upset because a vile, evil killer is dead? You think I regret that the guards killed the man who tried to kill you?”
Her voice was louder than usual, her tone strident. Gideon knew she was on the verge of losing her composure.
“I’m not sorry, my lord. I am glad. I’m glad that he is dead and you’re alive.” She slashed her arm through the air in front of her then lifted her gaze to his. “Oh, Gideon.” Without hesitation, she threw herself into his arms.
“Shh,” he whispered as he gathered her to him. “Everything will be fine. Woodman is dead. He can’t harm me anymore.”
Eve wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face against his chest. “I’m so afraid,” she said as her tears dampened the front of his shirt. “I don’t want you to be hurt, but I’m so afraid you will be. Someone wants you dead, Gideon.” She clung to him even tighter. “And they aren’t going to stop until they achieve their goal.”
“You don’t think Clyve Woodman was acting alone?” he asked.
She lifted her chin and looked him in the eyes. “Do you?”
He didn’t answer her immediately. He hadn’t wanted to think what finally knowing the identity of the man who’d no doubt shot him, then attacked him meant. Eve was right. This wasn’t over. Someone was the mastermind behind this, and until they knew who it was, and why, he would never be safe.
He cupped his hand to her cheek and brushed away the tears with his thumb. “No, Woodman was only following orders.”
She looked up at him and the hurt he saw in her eyes tore his heart from his chest.
“I’m afraid, Gideon.”
“Everything will be all right, Eve. It has to be.”
Because he knew now what he’d forfeit if things weren’t all right. He knew what he’d lose. And he couldn’t
bear the thought of losing her.
He lowered his head and brought his lips down atop hers. The kiss they shared was filled with hunger and need and desperation. She answered his demands with a fulfillment that left him breathless.
The front door opened, then closed, and Gideon lifted his lips from hers as Ben walked in on them. But he didn’t release her completely.
She belonged in his arms.
If only he could stay alive long enough to show her she was the only person he ever wanted to hold.
. . .
Her father was still reading the Duchess of Townsend’s journal when she walked through the door. From the stark look of shock and horror on his face, Eve knew he was close to the end. She knew he’d already figured out who had murdered Gideon’s mother. And Dr. Milton. And was behind the attempts on Gideon’s life.
She sat on the sofa and waited until her father read the last entry, and closed the journal.
His breathing was heavy and labored as he slowly lifted his head to look at her. His wide-eyed gaze was filled with a cold fury she’d never seen before. He slammed the journal shut and grabbed it as if he intended to throw it across the room. Instead, he bolted from the wing-chair and waved the journal between them.
“Do you—” He held the journal up as if it were the guilty party in this horror show. “Do you know what Her Grace is saying here?” he bellowed.
Eve nodded.
“What kind of person would do this to another human being?” he raged.
“Someone without a heart,” Eve answered. “Someone who wants something so desperately she’ll do whatever she must to get it. Even commit murder.”
“How do you want to handle this?” her father asked.
Eve felt a heavy weight drop to the pit of her stomach. “We’ve got to tell him. Gideon has to know that there’s nothing wrong with him. That there never has been. That he’s as normal as you and me.” Eve lifted her gaze and stared at her father. “And His Grace has to know. “He has to know that his wife killed her best friend. And Dr. Milton. And has been poisoning his son.”
