by Allison Lane
Dear God! One of the reasons he had pushed William to buy colors was the hope that military life would steady him. Had it been Randolph who was responsible for that long string of pranks and vandalism? What coercion had sealed William’s lips?
“Don’t blame yourself, Drew,” she begged, correctly interpreting his horrified expression. “I am more at fault than you, for I knew how much pleasure he took from hurting others, yet I allowed him to lull my suspicions. But enough of Randolph. Tell me of Anne’s betrothed. Does she truly love him? Since we are being honest, I have never liked the Raeburn family, begging your pardon.”
“No insult taken. I’m not fond of them myself and am looking for an excuse to end my betrothal so I won’t have to jilt her at the altar.”
“You would?”
“If necessary, but we’ll speak of that later. Frederick is a different matter entirely.” He described the man and his background, finishing with, “And Anne loves him.”
“Excellent.” She turned to go.
“Not yet, Lizzy. What I really wanted to discuss was Lady Emily’s fall. Did you witness it?”
“I should have, of course, for I was right next to her, but I was talking to Lady Redtree and only realized something was amiss when Lady Emily’s head thwacked the fireplace.” She grimaced at the remembered sound.
Damnation! “You were my last hope.”
“Does she refuse to discuss it?”
“She remembers nothing before she awoke,” he explained. “But don’t repeat that.” A missing memory would tarnish Emily’s reputation. “I suspect Fay pushed her, but I can’t prove it.”
“Why?”
“Of the three hundred people in the great hall, not one seems to have witnessed the fall itself,” he said, deliberately misinterpreting the question. His eyes bore into hers, forbidding her to pursue Fay’s animosity.
“It is possible,” she agreed. “She had been talking with us a short while before.”
He sighed, taking her through the events of the evening. But her recollection of who was in the immediate vicinity turned up no one he had not already questioned. He could only hope that someone across the room had been looking in Emily’s direction. But surely they would have come forward at the time.
* * * *
Cherlynn was well aware of Drew’s reason for scheduling the extra betrothal party. And she was grateful that he had stepped in. Once Charles removed her from Broadbanks, Emily would have no reason to keep her around. She wasn’t ready to leave, dangerous though it was to stay near Drew. Yet the extra time mocked her continuing impotence. Calls on Lady Travis and Mrs. Rumfrey produced nothing about Fay. Even Mrs. Monroe added no new information.
Drew was turning up similar blanks. “I’d like to hit something,” he growled, pacing the library like a caged lion. They had fallen into the habit of meeting there each night after everyone else was in bed.
“What a masculine response to frustration,” she muttered.
“The only reason you’re not bothered is that this gives you more time to comb my brain for embarrassing memories!”
“Come now! You’re only upset because the wrong girl caught you skinny-dipping at the Enderfields’ house party.”
“Nothing is going to turn up, Cherlynn,” he said firmly, refusing to be sidetracked. She wished he would go back to calling her Emily. He was courting disaster by vocalizing her real identity. What if the servants overheard, or he slipped when in company? “I might as well call it off and be done with it.”
“No, Drew.” She caught his gaze and held it. “Don’t ruin Anne’s party. Give it until the end of the week. That’s only three more days. I can’t explain it, but I know we’ll find something by then. What did you learn today?”
“Nothing helpful. The tenants won’t talk about Fay. I thought it was due to the betrothal, but their nervousness makes me think they fear her.”
“I’ve gotten the same impression in the village, even from Miss Langley and Lady Travis. But I have no evidence you can use.”
He nodded. “Both Elizabeth and Lady Clifford saw Fay near Emily after I stepped out of the ballroom that night. But by the time they realized Emily was injured, Fay was gone. Neither saw her leave or saw Em fall.”
“Lady Clifford must be protecting your feelings then,” she said. “She told me that Fay whisked herself away the moment I fell. But she didn’t actually see anything incriminating.”
“There were three hundred people in that room. Surely somebody saw something!”
“Not necessarily,” she said soothingly. “People see what they expect to see.”
“I suppose,” Drew agreed with a sigh. “Damnation! Why am I so sure I’m missing something important?”
“So you feel it, too?”
He nodded. “Any ideas?”
“Not really. The feeling is strongest when I hear about Randolph, but I can’t figure how that can help you. I’ve found no new information about his affair with Fay. How about you?”
He shook his head.
“None of his other crimes are relevant.” She shrugged, ignoring the question blazing in his eyes.
“Don’t do this to me, Cherlynn,” he said with a scowl. “He was my brother. If you’re not going to share the information, why did you bring it up?”
He had a point. Why had she brought it up? She hadn’t meant to, but something had forced the words out. “I found out why he was so short-tempered that night on the cliff,” she said with a long sigh.
He stared at her. When she said no more, he wandered to the window and gazed out at the darkness. “I’m waiting.”
“Jack Gardner’s daughter Maude was betrothed to Ben Lockyard. When Jack woke up the morning of March 15, Maude was missing. Grace heard that she was in the family way, but not by Ben.”
“Randolph?” he asked.
“Nobody really knows. The innkeeper’s daughter is the only one who knew of her condition. Maude never named her lover, but there had been rumors that Randolph was dallying with her. By evening, Jack and Ben were looking for him. Two hours later, Jack was found unconscious from a beating. He died of his wounds, but not before urging someone to run. Ben’s body turned up two miles away – and only half a mile from the cliff. Randolph’s horse came home without him that night. I’d wondered why he was walking back from the Blue Parrot. The image didn’t fit my understanding of the Regency aristocracy. It’s all of three miles.”
“Devil take it!” He strode back to his chair. “I hadn’t thought of that. Randolph never walked anywhere. But why didn’t the grooms say anything?”
“The head groom knew the horse would never have gone near the edge of the cliff, so when Randolph’s body turned up, he assumed suicide. But mentioning it would have distressed your father.”
“And affected the burial,” he finished, dropping his head into his hands. “At least we know his death was an accident. I wonder if he meant to kill them.”
“Probably not Jack. I suspect they jumped him, but once Jack went down – Randolph must have thought him already dead – he would have gone after Ben to hide his involvement. Having just killed twice, he had no qualms about attacking you. Perhaps because he hated you, or maybe he wanted the added protection of being Broadbanks’s heir.”
“He was too drunk to think that clearly. He may have thought I had seen him. The fight would have concluded only minutes before I passed Ben’s body – but I missed it in the dark.”
She nodded. “When you hit that rock, he probably thought you were dead. His confusion from all that fighting would explain why he fell over the cliff.”
He frowned. “You’re forgetting Fay. Why didn’t she calm Randolph down and help him roll me over the edge? That way she could get a husband who loved her, as well as the position and wealth she has always coveted.”
“She may not have had a choice. Since you didn’t see her, she was probably in the trees. Randolph may have fallen before she realized he was in danger. At that point, she could on
ly realize her dreams by forcing you into marriage. But I can’t see any way to use Randolph’s crimes against her.”
“Nor I.” He sighed. “And we’ve only three days to find something we can use. I don’t know if I can survive welcoming her to dinner tomorrow.”
“Of course you can. I thought Regency gentlemen had stoic masks that could hide their innermost feelings despite the most awful provocation.”
“I wish that were true.” His eyes raked her from head to toe, setting fires alight in every part of her body.
“Don’t, Drew,” she whispered.
“I’m going to miss you, Cherlynn.”
“It’s only the novelty,” she said, turning toward the door. “That would fade if I stayed longer.”
His hand stopped her progress. A finger tilted her chin so she had to meet his eyes. “Tell me you’ll miss me.”
“You know I will. Writing will be terribly frustrating. I’ll kick myself every time a question arises that I forgot to ask.” She was fighting to keep her voice light and her face calm. This must be the last time they met like this.
“You care,” he breathed, and she knew she’d failed.
“Don’t, Drew,” she repeated. “Win, lose, or draw, I’ll be gone soon. I’ve accepted that. I can live with it.” Her eyes squeezed shut so she wouldn’t see that beloved face hovering so close to her own. But the unwanted admission tore from her lips. “I’ll never love another.” Bidding him farewell, she forced her feet upstairs, wishing she had left ten minutes earlier. He was too perceptive. The last thing she wanted was his pity.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
A sleepless night left Cherlynn on edge. Time was rapidly running out. Charles was still determined to leave despite Drew’s imminent wedding and his vow to stand up for his friend. Rumors that Emily was questioning Fay’s background had led to a furious exchange in which he accused her of meddling. She could hardly deny the charge, so she’d fallen back on swearing her behavior was unexceptionable.
That argument had immediately been followed by an altercation with Lady Clifford in which Cherlynn had condemned the woman’s selfish manipulation and refused to consider wedding Rupert. Emily’s mother left in hysterics, but Cherlynn no longer cared. Too many other problems pressed close.
By the time the last guest arrived for the betrothal party, Cherlynn’s tension had multiplied a hundredfold. The undercurrents sweeping the drawing room made her want to scream. Charles watched her like a hawk. Lady Clifford glared, especially when Drew pulled Emily aside to report on his latest interviews. No one had seen anything untoward. They were no closer to finding proof of Fay’s transgressions, though he had talked to a dozen more guests from the ball. And their investigation of Emily’s fall was now common knowledge, raising speculative glints in more than one eye.
Lord Broadbanks had suffered yet another attack after confessing his sins to Drew. He would not join them this evening, though he had spoken to Frederick that afternoon. No one knew what had passed between them, but Frederick’s eyes often strayed to Fay, who was noticeably irritated. Might Frederick cancel Fay’s betrothal? She didn’t know if he had the authority to do so. Lord Raeburn still lived, though in a coma.
Cherlynn exchanged pleasantries with Miss Langley and Mrs. Monroe as questions simmered in her mind. Frederick’s increasing hostility toward Fay might warn the girl that her betrothal was in danger, giving her a new reason to harm Emily. Would Fay confront her in the drawing room or lure her away from company?
Cherlynn tried to keep one eye on Fay, but she soon lost sight of the girl. The crowd was larger than she had expected. Sixty people were attending this neighborhood betrothal dinner. Not until Cherlynn was laughing with Drew, Frederick, and Anne did she again spot Fay. Their eyes clashed, sending a shiver of fear down her back. The girl was furious. And even more so when Drew escorted Cherlynn across the room to meet a distant cousin, one hand resting lightly on the small of her back. Did Fay realize, as she did, that he was paving the way for a change of fiancées?
* * * *
Fay planted another poisonous seed in the fertile ground of Lady Travis’s mind, determined to destroy every last vestige of Lady Emily’s reputation. The girl was a whore who should not be inflicted on respectable people. Drew was a high stickler whose infatuation would never survive rumors of Emily’s infidelity.
“I saw them with my own eyes,” she continued. “Writhing, without a stitch of clothing between them.”
“With her groom?” demanded Lady Travis.
Fay nodded, a smile tugging the corners of her mouth. Let the slut try to get out of that one!
But her good humor vanished moments later. Drew was sticking so close to Emily’s side that no one could cut her without also cutting him. And his frown when she had earlier tried to claim his attention boded ill.
Her irritation rose when she discovered the seating arrangements at dinner. Lady Emily was placed at Drew’s right, while she, the future Marchioness of Broadbanks, languished halfway down the table between the vicar and Lord Clifford. Mr. Rumfrey was such a dithery man that he rarely understood what anyone was saying, usually responding with placating absurdities that urged forgiveness for any sin. She doubted he understood even her most blatant hints. And Lord Clifford would never accept calumnies against his sister. He even ignored truths.
Irritation changed to fury during the betrothal announcement.
Drew rose to present the happy couple. “I propose a toast. To my sister Anne and Mr. Frederick Raeburn, who will wed in December, God willing. Unfortunately, the health of both Lord Broadbanks and Lord Raeburn is too frail for them to join us on this joyful occasion. But my father has expressed delight with Lady Anne’s choice.”
“Where will you be living?” asked Lord Lindleigh once the company had drunk to the couple’s future.
Frederick smiled. “At Lord Thurston’s suggestion, Broadbanks will include Raeburn House in Lady Anne’s dowry.”
Several more toasts were offered, but Fay refused to participate. How dared Broadbanks give away her estate? Everything was going wrong. She had demanded that Drew put Raeburn House in her name, threatening to tell his father about Randolph’s death if he did not. Instead of complying, he had smiled and told her to go ahead.
Lady Emily had bewitched him until he no longer cared what others thought. What if he no longer cared whether Broadbanks lived or died? It was a frightening thought, for if true, he might jilt her.
Her mind twisted frantically. How could she prevent it? The steps she had taken to destroy Emily’s reputation wouldn’t suffice. If he was besotted enough, he wouldn’t believe them. He might even cite them as just cause to end their betrothal, and if he could disprove even one of her charges, these arrogant cats would tear her to shreds. Emily would become the toast of the neighborhood.
Such an insult couldn’t be borne. It was too late to look for alternatives to Drew. She had played fair from the start. He was the one who had thrown over the arrangement their fathers had made all those years ago. He was the one who had tried to discard her like an old coat he no longer wished to wear. And he would do it again. No matter how dishonorable the action, he was going to leave her standing at the altar. This insulting position at the table confirmed it.
Servants cleared her untouched plate, offering her a choice of sweets. She chose a tart, methodically tearing it to shreds. By the time the pastry had been reduced to crumbs, she knew what she must do.
Kill Lady Emily.
Only by destroying the girl could she control Drew. Once his inamorata was gone, he wouldn’t care whom he wed. Duty demanded a wife, so he would accept the one already poised to assume that role. She had already tried once, but that had been a sudden whim triggered by the intimate look they had exchanged. This time she would take no chances.
Decision made, Fay watched Emily circulate in the drawing room after dinner, laughing with Drew, joking with Frederick – she would have to do something about him as well, or Raeburn House wou
ld be lost – and charming several ladies who had earlier lapped up all Fay’s spite. Emily must die. And it must be soon.
* * * *
“How dare you show your face in respectable society,” hissed Lady Travis as Cherlynn joined her and Miss Langley after dinner. The gentlemen remained ensconced over port, so she was on her own.
Cherlynn raised her brows. “Would you care to enlighten me on my supposed transgression?” Who had spilled the beans about Drew’s kiss in the folly? Fay? Or had the servants overheard Lady Clifford’s ranting?
“You were seen, my fine lady, disporting yourself with your groom!”
Fay must be spreading spite. “How odd! I have no groom, nor have I had dealings with anyone else’s.”
“Your sins will never be forgiven,” said Lady Travis firmly, beginning to turn away in a deliberate cut.
“Will you condemn me without a hearing?” Cherlynn demanded, glaring at the gossip. “When did this indiscretion take place? Where? With whom?”
“Tuesday last at eleven in the morning,” snapped Lady Travis.
“As I thought. It could not have been me,” she said. “I was taking tea with Miss Langley at that time.”
“Quite right, my dear,” confirmed Miss Langley, realization blossoming in her eyes. “We had such a comfortable coze.”
Lady Travis’s glare changed to speculation.
“Someone mistook the identities of the participants,” said Cherlynn firmly, thanking fate that Fay had made the mistake of including specifics so the tale would sound more authentic. The first rule of successful lying was to avoid details that could be checked. “Or is someone deliberately piling calumny onto my name?”
“No lady would do such a thing,” exclaimed a shocked Miss Langley.
“Was this tale mentioned by a lady?” Cherlynn asked slyly.
“She considers herself so,” stated Lady Travis, “though I’ve had my doubts. And this proves them.”
“Miss Raeburn fears your friendship with Lord Thurston,” said Miss Langley, abandoning circumspection in light of this condemnation.
