by Tracy Kay
“Apparently, we didn’t know him as well as we thought we did. Marshall, a killer.” Jared scowled, unable to agree with Madeline. The note’s admission of guilt was all the proof he needed. “Who would have guessed that a fop like him could be a killer? He had the perfect disguise and had us all fooled.”
“I am telling you, Jared, he was not a killer, and he would never have killed himself,” she denied vehemently. She would never believe that Marshall would do such things.
“You don’t know that, Madeline,” Jared argued.
Madeline went to his desk and started to go through it. “There has to be something here. Help me search, Jared,” she snapped, desperate to find something that proved Marshall wasn’t a killer.
“Search for what?”
“I don’t know. Evidence. An invitation or something to explain the mask. Why would he have a mask?” She waved it at Jared before handing it to him. Taking the mask from her, he lifted his shoulder, speechless, having no answers for her. In frustration, she shuffled through papers scattered on the desk and knocked over the empty glass. With trembling hands, she picked up the glass and placed it next to the full one. She knitted her brow in bewilderment. The significance of the two glasses eluded her, but she knew it was important.
“Madeline, he killed himself.” Jared took her hand and guided her away from the desk. “I understand that you are upset, but it is that simple. Why don’t we go to the parlor and wait for Brandon there?”
Pulling away from him, she commented forcefully, “I don’t want to wait for him in the parlor. I want to search for evidence.
“What evidence, Madeline?” Brandon asked, taking in the room before him. He had returned home and received her brief message, informing him of her whereabouts shortly after they had left. Although he was displeased with her and Jared for disobeying him, he was now grateful for that message and that he had followed them. He wouldn’t have wanted them to deal with this alone.
“Brandon!” Madeline ran into his arms, hugging him close to her. “Marshall . . .” She started, but unable to control her emotions any longer, she began to cry.
As he held her, Brandon scanned the room and then met Jared’s eyes. “I assume you brought her here.”
Jared shrugged sheepishly. “She was determined to come with or without me. I thought it would be better if I went with her.”
He nodded and set Madeline aside. “Take her home and send for the authorities. I will wait here.”
“He didn’t kill himself, Brandon,” Madeline denied determinedly, wiping the tears away.
“Madeline, do you know of anyone who would want him dead?” He inquired tenderly, brushing back a stray hair on her damp cheek.
“No.” She tossed her head in confusion and grief. “He didn’t have any enemies. At least I didn’t think he did, until now.” As she blinked away her tears, she remembered the scrap of silk still in Jared’s hand. “Jared, the mask.”
“Oh, gads, I almost forgot it,” he exclaimed, looking at the offending material in his hand. He passed it quickly to Brandon as if it were on fire. “Maddy found this in between the rungs of the chair.” Brandon nodded and pocketed the material to inspect later.
“Brandon, he couldn’t have killed himself. I won’t believe it,” Madeline cried in denial, putting her hand to her cheek and biting her lip hard.
Putting his arm around her, Brandon ushered Madeline to the door. “Sweet, he did this to himself. But if it will make you feel better, I will search through his things, and question some of his friends and associates. Will that satisfy you?”
She nodded and looked back at Marshall’s body, the fallen chair, and around the room. Something was wrong, something out of place. Something wasn’t right with the room or the mask. She felt it, but couldn’t place it. All evidence pointed to suicide, but it wasn’t right. She could never prove it, and she wasn’t sure why she felt this way, only that she knew Marshall Nevell did not kill himself.
That stupid cow! She was supposed to come alone, not bring her idiot brother. He seethed with rage. No matter, she still found the body. She would be frightened and anguished. She would be devastated. He breathed in deeply. But that stupid bitch couldn’t follow simple instructions. She was supposed to be alone, not have a brother there to comfort her. He wanted her to hurt. He wanted to be the one to cause her pain. Lots and lots of crushing pain. That bitch! He hated her!
He suppressed his anger and let the memories comfort him. It was a splendid death. He breathed in the sweet memory. Nevell’s eyes had bulged with surprise when he learned who was killing him. Ah, it felt marvelous watching that ridiculous man die. His only regret was that he couldn’t strangle the man with his own hands. But that was all right, watching him die was enough and knowing he had caused it to happen. He grimaced in gratification. Marshall Nevell was finally dead and out of his way. He was one more step closer to his Joselyn.
He frowned at the thought of Nicholas Cathcart. Joselyn was using him for money. She would never marry such a man. He was confident of that. Let her play, because once she was his, he would be the one to play, and he would make her pay for her infidelities. Oh, how he would punish her. Yes, with delicious, torturous punishment.
He looked back at the house as Brandon Cathcart arrived. There was another imbecile. He thought he was so intelligent. The fool would believe Nevell killed himself. He would believe the note. He will go in there and comfort poor, little Madeline. The bitch! The mere thought of her enraged him. He sneered smugly. Madeline would have found the note by now. Pity, she hadn’t screamed when she found the body. Perhaps she had fainted. He would have liked to have seen that. He would make her suffer. No quick death for that bitch. He would take his time. Yes, she would have a long, slow, and painful death. He breathed in deeply at the thought of killing her. Her death will be beautifully sweet.
He hid in the dark, in the bushes, and watched her leave, crushed and broken. Her younger brother had to support her and had to help her into the carriage. The poor thing. She was crying. He smirked with satisfaction. It had been a very good day and the future was looking even better. As the carriage rolled away, he moved through the shadows, heading in the opposite direction.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
“With Marshall dead, does that mean I can start having my morning rides again?” Deirdre asked Brandon hopefully as the family walked into the parlor after dinner.
“I suppose we can relax a little and get back to our normal routines, but caution is always important. You must have Nicholas, Stephen, or me as an escort for your riding excursions, puss. There is still the issue with Farrington, you know.” Brandon put his arm around her and gave her a tight squeeze.
Deirdre pouted at Brandon’s directive and moved out of her brother’s embrace to sit across from Jeremy at the chess table. One day, she would like to go riding without one of her brothers as an escort. She knew it would never be allowed, but it would be nice to have the same freedoms her brothers had.
“I still can’t believe Marshall is dead,” Joselyn said as Nicholas joined her on the settee.
“I can’t believe he was the one threatening you, Joselyn.” Stephen absently poured the brandy, trying to reconcile his feelings. He was still in shock that his friend was a murderer.
“He was clever,” Nicholas added, taking the proffered drink from Stephen.
“I am still not sure he was behind everything,” Madeline whispered softly as she peered into her sherry.
Brandon moved behind her chair and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Maddy, puss, we went over this. All the evidence points to Marshall.”
Gazing up at her brother, Madeline shuddered. “I can’t believe he shot me, Brandy.” Madeline lowered her head and quickly wiped away her tears. “I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it, Madeline,” Joselyn retorted confidently. “He confessed. The man wanted me dead, wanted you dead. He was a horrible man and I am glad he is dead.”
“He was my frien
d, too, Madeline. I don’t understand his duplicity, but he betrayed us all.” Stephen sat in the chair across from her, starring morosely into his brandy.
Madeline was silent. She didn’t believe it. Not Marshall. He was moving on. He had called on Clara, and according to Clara’s mother, they seemed agreeable. This was all wrong. She couldn’t prove it, but she knew it was wrong.
Nicholas interrupted her thoughts and the gloomy conversation. “Enough of Marshall. I have an announcement to make for those who don’t already know. I meant to make it the other day, but with Marshall’s death and Mother and Father departing for the country, there didn’t seem to be a right time. Now with all of you here, what better time than the present?” Nicholas chuckled, meeting each family member with his eyes. Brandon was lightly massaging Madeline’s neck and shoulders while she sipped her wine, and Jared was standing in front of the fireplace, trying to imitate Brandon’s casual nonchalance. Stephen sprawled in a chair toying with his drink, while Deirdre and Jeremy sat near the window playing a quiet game of chess. Joselyn was snuggled up close beside him.
Taking Joselyn’s hand in his, Nicholas stood, pulling her up with him. He kissed her palm lightly before making his announcement. “Joselyn and I are engaged to be married.” Nicholas watched his family carefully for their responses. Deirdre squealed with delight, jumping from her chair to hug him and Joselyn with congratulations. Stephen pounded him on his back as did Jared. Coming as no surprise, Jeremy shook his hand and gave his sister a hug.
Madeline gave her brother a tight hug and whispered, “Be happy, Nicki.” She gave Joselyn a quick hug before returning to her seat.
Brandon stood apart from the rest of the family watching the scene coolly. He did not approve. He believed Nicholas was making a mistake, but there was nothing he could do about it. Sighing heavily and swallowing the rest of his brandy, he joined his family in well wishes. He could at least make the effort of supporting his brother, even if he disapproved. Clasping his hand on his brother’s shoulder, Brandon congratulated him. “I hope you will both be happy, Nicholas.”
Nicholas studied his brother and nodded. “We will be, Brandon. Thank you for accepting this.”
Brandon gazed steadily at him. “You aren’t giving me any choice. It is your life, Nicholas and I will support your decision.”
“Thank you, Brandon.” Nicholas grasped Brandon’s shoulders and gave him a bear hug before letting him go.
“We need to plan an engagement party,” Deirdre smiled happily. “Have you set a date?”
“Next month,” Nicholas replied. “We don’t want to wait.”
“Then we have a lot of planning to do.” Deirdre took the seat next to her brother and Joselyn and began to plan. Like her sister, Madeline, she loved to plan parties. It was one of the few things they had in common.
Madeline returned to her chair and watched her sister, her brothers, and Joselyn and Jeremy make the wedding plans. Usually she was involved in the party arrangements, but today, she did not have the heart. She could not stop thinking about Marshall and could not figure out what it was that bothered her about his death.
Joselyn waited nervously as the butler led Henry Cummings into the parlor. She had sent a message for him to visit today to tell him of her engagement. She didn’t want to have this discussion, but in all fairness, she felt that she must. He had been kind to her and he deserved her honesty. “Lord Henry, please sit down,” Joselyn gestured to a seat across from hers. “I asked you here because I have some news that I rather you hear from me than from someone else.”
“What news? Lady Madeline wasn’t hurt again, was she?” Henry asked, coming to the wrong conclusion.
“No, nothing such as that,” she reassured. Joselyn took a deep breath to settle her nerves before telling him the news. “Lord Henry, Nicholas Cathcart and I are engaged to be married. Nicholas and I made the announcement last night to his family.”
“What?” Henry came out of his seat in disbelief. “You can’t be! How could you do this to me?” He peered at her with a pained expression, his body quivering in denial.
“Please, Lord Henry, do calm down.” She frowned at his reaction. She hadn’t realized he would be so distraught. “Lord Nicholas and I love one another, and when he proposed, I had to accept.”
“You deceived me.” Agitated, Henry began pacing the room. “You led me to believe you were considering my proposal.”
“And I did,” she answered, watching him pace the room. “Please, Lord Henry, try to understand,” Joselyn pleaded. “I never thought Lord Nicholas would ask or I would never have given you hope. Please, don’t be irate.” If she was truthful with herself, she enjoyed this part of ending things and smoothing over the ruffled feathers. She never knew how the man would react, and obviously, Henry wasn’t taking it well. Goodness, but he was acting as if they had actually had an affair. Men and their bruised egos, and how easily she could manipulate them. She was going to miss this; indeed, she would.
He turned to her and stared at her in shock. “Don’t be irate? How can I not?”
“Lord Henry, I am sure there is another woman who will love you and want to marry you, but she is not me,” Joselyn placated, hoping he would understand. “I don’t love you, Lord Henry. I never did and I never lied to you about that.”
“You love Nicholas Cathcart,” he stated, slowly sitting in the chair across from her.
“Yes.” She sighed with relief. He was going to accept the situation. She smiled at herself. Like all the others before him, he had no choice but to do so. Yes, she was going to miss this. Perhaps in a few years after she had supplied Nicholas with an heir, she could have an affair or two. She was sure by then Nicholas wouldn’t mind. After all, he would probably have his own mistresses, and it was only fair for her to have her entertainment as well. She so enjoyed the game.
“Well.” He cleared his throat and composed himself. “I guess that is that.”
“Yes, Lord Henry, it is,” Joselyn replied definitively as the Cathcart’s butler re-entered the room.
“I am sorry to interrupt, Lady Joselyn, but there is a message for you, and I was told it was urgent.” The butler handed her the missive, bowed, and left the room.
Holding the note in her hand, Joselyn stood and dismissed Henry. “Lord Henry, thank you for coming and for understanding.”
“I don’t understand, Lady Joselyn.” Henry rose from his seat and stated before leaving, “I will never understand.”
Joselyn huffed as she watched him go. She supposed she should have been honest with him from the start. She would have never married him, even if Nicholas hadn’t asked for her hand.
Joselyn huffed again and headed for the stairs when she remembered the note in her hand. Pausing at the bottom of the stairs, she opened the note and read it quickly. For one long moment, she stood there staring at the contents of the note, her mind a blank. Coming to her senses, she ran up the stairs to her room, dropping the message on the stairs, unnoticed. Joselyn quickly changed into a riding habit. She ran back down the stairs and passed Madeline laden with packages. She ignored Madeline’s unspoken question and surprised face as she rushed out of the house.
Madeline watched Joselyn hurry out and crinkled her brow in bewilderment before heading for the stairs. She had returned from a glorious morning of shopping with Gretchen and Corinna. Brandon had allowed her and her friends to go out with only a footman in attendance as long as he knew where they were shopping and she was back before the afternoon. It felt like ages since she could go somewhere without one of her brothers trailing along. Although she was grateful for their love and attention, they didn’t have the patience for shopping. She could not wait to see Deirdre’s face when she saw the hat Madeline purchased for her. It was the one she had been admiring before she had been shot. She was lucky the hat was still there. Madeline rushed up the stairs, anxious to give Deirdre her gift.
When Madeline was half way up the stairs, she paused, seeing a piece of fo
lded paper on the stair in front of her. Curious, Madeline picked it up and continued to her room. Laying her packages on her bed, she quickly perused the paper and gasped at its contents. Wasting no time, she rushed out of her room, walked determinedly into Brandon’s bedroom, went to his bureau, and took out the pistol he kept there. She carefully loaded the gun the way Brandon had taught her. Then she took up a pen, ink well and a sheet of paper from his secretary and jotted down a quick message, telling him where she had gone and why. She ran down the stairs, quickly informed the butler about the note for Brandon, and ran out the door, yelling to the footman to bring the carriage around. As she entered the carriage and gave the driver directions, she shuddered with apprehension and fear. Aaron Farrington had kidnapped Jeremy.
Richard Wallace, Earl of Ruxford, waited patiently in the Malany’s library. It was the first time he had been in this particular room. He usually waited in the parlor. He stared at the painting above the mantel, noting how it somewhat resembled Lady Gretchen. It must be her mother, he thought. He clasped his hands behind his back, rocked back on his heels, studied the painting and contemplated the object of his pursuit.
Gretchen would make a good wife if only he could convince her brothers to allow him to marry her. He had been working on it for months now and he believed he had Warren Malany, Viscount of Sheffland, on his side. However, try as he may, he couldn’t get Lady Gretchen’s attention. There was always someone else in the way, but he would succeed and he would have her. She would give him the sons he wanted. If her mother could produce so many sons, surely, she would as well. She would be easy to control, which is exactly what he needed: a wife who would do as he ordered, have his children, and run an efficient home. He had no time for the silliness of the younger girls who dreamed of undying love and hadn’t a clue on how to run a household. He needed a woman who already had the skills of managing a home and the many social obligations someone of his stature was required to attend.
