by Tracy Kay
“This house seems so empty without the children, my lady,” the elderly maid said as she poured Beatrice a cup of tea.
“Yes, it does, Gertie. I never thought it could get this quiet. Without Jeremy and Joselyn here to keep us company, it is very lonely indeed.”
“Would you like me to stay the night, mum?” Gertie was concerned for her employer and her friend of many years.
“Oh, no, dear. You have your own family to attend to,” she replied, taking a sip of the tea. “You go on home, dear. I will be fine. I have Pookey and Mr. Swift to keep me company,” she patted the dog in her lap, “and my tea.”
“Have a good night then, mum,” the maid bobbed her head and gave a brief curtsy.
“You too, my dear,” she waved absently while opening the book. Beatrice sipped her tea as she read the adventure that Swift had penned. When she heard the clock chime eleven, she put aside the book, tucked Pookey under her arm, picked up a candle, and moved about the room extinguishing the lights.
As Beatrice moved up the stairs, she stopped when she heard a banging noise. “Who is there?” She called out but no one answered her. Shaking her head at the foolishness of an old, lonely woman, she made her way to her bedroom. She put Pookey in his dog bed, placed the candle on the table next to her bed, and began to undress. She heard the noise again and said to herself, “I know I didn’t imagine that.” She walked to her door to investigate, but didn’t see anything. The hallway was dark and there was only silence.
Too afraid to investigate further, she returned to her room and finished undressing for bed, donning a thick, flannel nightgown. Even though it was spring, she still became terribly cold at night. She shivered as she crawled into bed, glanced towards the window, and watched the leaves of the tree dance in the breeze.
As she blew out the candle and settled into her bed, she saw a brief movement across the room coming from her dressing room. She gasped as she saw the dark shadow move towards her. When it was hovering over her, she raised her hand up as if to ward it off. “Please, no,” she whispered as the pillow descended over her face. It took only moments before she was still and breathed no more.
The dark shadow ignored the silent barking of the little dog as he slipped out of the room. The tree branch outside the widow hit the pane again, sending a third banging noise eerily throughout the quiet house.
CHAPTER NINE
Joselyn entered her room, threw her cloak across the chair, kicked off her shoes, pulled the pins from her hair, allowing it to tumble down around her, and began to undress. The day was gloomy and she wished the rain would stop. She took a breath to steady her frazzled nerves. She was tired and it had been a long funeral with endless condolences. She had never realized how many people had loved her aunt. She was going to miss Aunt Beatrice, she thought sadly. Despite their disagreements, she had loved the old woman.
At first it was believed that Beatrice had died of natural causes, but after Brandon’s closer examination, it was believed she may have been suffocated. Joselyn was positive that her aunt had been murdered. She could not understand what Farrington had to gain by killing her. Aunt Beatrice was innocent and did not deserve to have her life snuffed out. Suffocation was not a nice way to die. She was going to miss that dog, Pookey, too, but she was glad Aunt Beatrice’s maid, Gertie, was able to take the dog. Joselyn brushed away the tears and allowed her dress and petticoat to drop to the floor, kicking it away from her before she removed her corset.
“Buenas días, señorita. I see you are as muy bonita as ever.”
Clutching her corset against her breasts, Joselyn whirled around in surprise to face the man with the familiar voice from her past. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought it was time I paid you a visit.” Manuel Parez sauntered over to Joselyn, took the corset from her hands, and added it to the pile on the floor.
“Get out, Manny, or I will scream,” she threatened as a shiver of panic travelled down her back.
“You do not want to do that, babé.” Manuel put a hand around her slim neck and dragged her close. As he rubbed his thumb slowly back and forth over the hollow of her throat, he whispered in her ear in a soft, Spanish accented voice. “Your high society friends would come running and I would be forced to explain our little relationship.”
“What do you want?” Joselyn demanded, trying to shove him away to no avail.
“Money and . . .” He paused, leaned back and looked her up and down. “You.”
“I do not have any money and you cannot have me,” she gritted out and pushed at his chest. Dear god, but he was bigger than she remembered and she couldn’t stop the shudder of trepidation that ran through her. The years had only increased Manuel’s handsomeness. The Spaniard had soft, black hair and deep brown eyes framed with spiky, black lashes that accentuated his olive skin, high cheek bones and prominent jaw. He was of a medium height, but muscular from years of hard labor, and to Joselyn he seemed very strong and very intimidating. She had never imagined that she would see this man again, and now, with him standing in front of her with his arms around her, the old feelings of helplessness, fear, and unwanted desire all came back to her in full force. “Manny, let me go.” She pushed at him again, but he only held her tighter in his grasp. “We settled this years ago. Why are you here?”
“As I said, I need money. Ten thousand quid should do,” he demanded as he cupped her breast.
“I don’t have that kind of money.” Joselyn tried to shove him away as need overcame her.
“Ah, but the Cathcarts do and I am sure you can find a way to get it,” Manuel purred as his thumb ligthly teased her nipple to a hard peak through the thin material of her chemise.
Joselyn gasped and gave him another shove. When he let her go, she stumbled backward and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her arm. She jerked away from him and put some distance between them. She stared at him in shock as a revelation came to her. He was the one who was threatening her. Dear god, Manny had killed her brother, her aunt, and Roger Cummings. He never seemed like a killer before, but what did she really know about this man. Next to nothing, she realized. She backed away from him and fell onto the bed. “You killed my brother, my aunt. You have been sending those horrid notes,” she accused, trembling with fear.
Manuel shrugged. “I know nothing of this.”
“You lie.”
“Have I ever lied to you, babé?” He loomed over her and placed a knee between her thighs.
“No, but I don’t know if you lie now.” Joselyn’s breath caught in her throat when his knee rubbed against her thigh.
“I do not lie,” he insisted. “I do not come here to kill, only to blackmail you.”
Joselyn shuddered, terrified of him and what he made her feel. “I don’t believe you.”
Manuel shrugged again. “Believe what you wish.” He ran one hand through her hair and placed the other on the small of her back. “I want the money, babé, and if I do not get it, I will tell all your friends of our little affair.” He leaned her back against the bed and covered her with his body. “And maybe I will need to hurt someone. You would not want me to hurt someone close to you, would you, babé?” He threatened, enjoying his power over her.
Joselyn gasped with fear and stammered, “N . . n . . no.”
“Bueno,” he answered and touched her face with his fingertips. When he lifted her chemise up and out of his way, Joselyn began to struggle. He gripped her hands tightly in one of his and raised them above her head, causing her to flinch in pain, while he wrapped his free arm around her waist pulling her securely against him. “Do not fight me, babé. I want you,” he warned. “And you want me,” he whispered in her ear before roughly taking her. When he was finished, he moved off her and straightened his clothing.
Trembling with emotion, Joselyn sat up and pushed down her chemise in irritation. “You didn’t have to rape me to get your point across, Manny.”
“Ah, did you want to enjoy our mating?” He asked
sarcastically, knowing very well she had been ready for him.
“Get out!” She snarled at him and pointed at the door.
“Do not forget, ten thousand. You have three days, babé,” he warned and quietly slipped out of the room.
CHAPTER TEN
Joselyn was in the library staring at the open book in her lap. She couldn’t get Manuel’s words and actions from yesterday out of her mind. Everyone thought all her tears were from her grief over her aunt’s death, but she cried more for herself and Manuel’s threats. The rape she could handle. He had done that enough times to her. She expected it, but the threats and the possibility that he was the killer was more unsettling than she cared to manage. Manuel would make it impossible for her to be accepted in society if he revealed her secret affairs and her blackmailing. She should have known he would return. His absence from her life these past few years was too convenient, too easy. It was hard enough with her brother’s death, the threats, that horrid attack the other day, and her aunt’s death, but now, Manuel Parez had to return to her life. She couldn’t take any more and she had no idea what she was going to do.
Deep in thought, Joselyn jumped when the Cathcart’s butler entered the room. “Lady Joselyn?”
“What?” She snapped irritably, not bothering to look up, afraid her feelings would be revealed.
“Henry Cummings, Lord of Dunley, is here to see you, my lady,” Avery announced.
“Tell him I am indisposed.” She had no wish to see that man.
“I did, my lady, but he was insistent on seeing you.” Avery regarded her with sympathy, believing the poor girl was grief stricken, and it wasn’t proper for her to receive callers when in mourning.
“Give me a moment and then send him in.” Joselyn tossed her book aside in aggravation. She didn’t want to deal with Henry. She took a moment to compose herself and wiped away the stray tear, glad that no one would question her puffy eyes and tear stained face. They would simply think it was from her grief.
Joselyn stood and straightened her dress, frowning at the pulls from her nervous habit. She ruined more dresses that way. She had to stop that bad habit of hers.
“My dear, dear, Lady Joselyn,” Henry entered the room and grasped her hands tightly in his. “I heard about your unfortunate mishap the other day, and now, your aunt. You must be terribly distraught.”
“Yes, I am,” Joselyn replied dramatically as she tugged her hands out of his. “The attack was horrid, absolutely horrid, and on top of it, my aunt’s death.” Joselyn dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief. “I thank you for your condolences, Lord Henry, but I am not up to visitors today.”
“I won’t stay but a short time.” Henry drew her down onto a sofa beside him. “I came to offer my protection. I know Lord Kenrik is protecting you, but he has his own family to care for, and there will come a time when he can no longer protect you.” Swallowing his pride one more time, Henry came to ask Joselyn the question that would change both of their lives forever. “If we were married, you would not need the Cathcarts, and perhaps, this madman will stop his threats, knowing that you are no longer available. I know I have asked in the past, and you have turned me down for one reason or another, but I am asking one last time.” Henry sank down on one knee and took her hands in his. “Will you marry me, Joselyn?”
“Lord Henry.” Joselyn took a deep breath to keep herself from laughing out loud, which would have only humiliated them both. “I don’t know what to say. I am unsure of everything. You are such a dear friend, and I know my marriage to you would have made Aunt Beatrice happy. And Zachary would have approved, but I don’t want to put you into any danger. Besides, Lord Henry, I am in mourning, and it would be unseemly for me to marry now.”
“I am sure people will understand you putting aside the traditional, obligatory mourning period under the circumstances, and I can deal with any danger that may come along,” he defended. “Don’t you think I could protect my own wife?”
“Certainly, you could,” she said, pulling her hands from his and indicating that he sit next to her. Not wishing to hurt his feelings, she put off the inevitable by lying and giving him false hope. “Lord Henry, I need to think about this and what I should do next. It doesn’t only affect my life, you understand. Whatever I do will affect Jeremy. He is such a helpless boy.” She leaned in towards him and whispered conspiringly. “Only between you and me, I think he is a bit touched in the head.” She leaned back away from him. “And it is my responsibility to watch after him.”
“Jeremy will be welcome in my home, Lady Joselyn. I would never expect you to abandon your brother,” he argued. She was making this difficult. He was perfectly capable of taking care of her and her brother. He didn’t understand her reluctance since he was offering her the perfect solution for her current situation.
“Let me think about it, please, Lord Henry,” Joselyn implored. Somehow, she had to make this odious man comprehend she wasn’t interested in him or marriage.
“I don’t mean to push, Lady Joselyn, but . . .”
Joselyn cut him off and patted his hand. “I know, Lord Henry, but I need a little more time. Now, I am sorry, but I am quite undone by recent events. Why don’t you come by in a day or two?” She suggested, dismissing him.
“As you wish, Lady Joselyn, but please keep my proposal in mind.” Henry stood, bowed stiffly and left the room.
Joselyn leaned back and sighed. Perhaps it was time she thought about marrying. With the death of his brother, Henry inherited the family title and estates. He was easy to manipulate, and he seemed to be a bit dense. The real question was could she tolerate the man and would he change once they were married.
Joselyn was musing over the possibility when Nicholas entered the room. “I see Lord Henry paid you a visit,” he commented.
“Yes, he proposed,” she revealed coyly and picked at her gown, the only sign that she was nervous.
“Do you intend on marrying him?” Nicholas inquired, not at all amused by the turn of events, but confident he could make Joselyn his own.
“I don’t know,” she answered honestly. “Perhaps.”
“He would not make a very good husband,” Nicholas stated blatantly. He was not going to allow her to marry another man.
“And why is that?” She questioned absently, not really interested in his opinion.
Nicholas sat down next to her. “He is a milksop and you would have him wrapped around your finger in no time.”
“And what is wrong with that?” She snipped defiantly, meeting his gaze.
“You need a decisive man.” Nicholas grinned, knowing she wouldn’t like his answer.
“Like you?” She challenged, her eyes flashing. As if she would marry a man she couldn’t control.
“Yes, like me.” He draped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “You need a man who you can’t manipulate and one who knows how to love you properly.” His lips closed over hers and he kissed her deeply.
In shock, Joselyn pushed him away, breaking the kiss but not his embrace. “How dare you take such liberties?”
“I do dare, Joselyn, honey. I dare because I want you.” He caressed the back of her neck with his fingertips and leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “And I will have you. Soon.” He picked up her hand and slowly kissed her palm. He gazed into her eyes for a long moment before leaving the room.
Joselyn sat in the silence unable to move. Nicholas wanted her. Dear god, she would never be able to resist him if he persisted. No woman could. He was known as a master seducer. She knew all the rumors, all the scandals. After she had moved into the Cathcart manor, she had made a point to learn as much about Nicholas as she could. According to the rumor mills, he had had several mistresses, some of which were married women. Those women who said no to him, he hounded until they finally gave in, having no other choice but to give him what he wanted. She had heard that by the time he had finished with a woman, no other man could satisfy her. He manipulated and controlled a w
oman until she was obeying his every whim and she was lost. Joselyn could not allow that, not with the secrets she had and with Manuel re-entering her life, making everything impossible. She would never permit a man like Nicholas to control her. Nicholas Cathcart will simply have to find another woman to want.
Joselyn glared at her discarded book and huffed. She picked up the book, opened it, and tried to read, desperately wanting to put her worries aside for a time.
“I can’t believe Brandon let you out of the house after that attack and Lady Beatrice’s death, Maddy,” Gretchen commented, as she shuffled her lists of things to be done for the ball, sitting at the small secretary desk in the Malany’s spacious parlor.
“It was only because Simon was going to be here. Otherwise, I doubt he would have permitted it,” Madeline explained, as she sipped her tea and settled more comfortably in the settee across the room from Gretchen. Madeline had been surprised when Brandon permitted her to visit Gretchen to help plan for the Malany ball. Actually, Brandon had thought it would be a good distraction for her, and since he knew one or more of the Malany brothers would be in attendance to keep her safe and Raven had several men guarding the house, he had given no objection.
Madeline looked over her cup at her friend and wished that all she had to worry about was planning a ball. With Beatrice’s recent death and Brandon’s confirmation that it was murder and not natural causes, everyone was anxious and more cautious than usual. She simply could not understand why someone would kill such an innocent and lovely, old lady as Beatrice. Putting aside her feelings of grief and fear, she returned to the task at hand. “We only have a couple of hours before Brandon returns, so we need to make the most of it. Why don’t we start with the invitations? Who is on your list?” Gretchen handed her the paper with the list of names, and as she returned to the desk, Madeline quickly perused it. “You need to invite Lady Worton. You do not want to snub her.”
