Arriving at Windmere, the subdued trio dismounted and after a low-voiced exchange with Tilden by Barnaby, they retired to Barnaby’s study. Notified by Tilden of their return, Cornelia joined them. Shortly, Lamb, Luc and Simon walked into the room, their faces grave.
Simon went immediately to where Mathew sat like a stone-faced statue. His hand was gentle when he placed it on his brother’s shoulder. Mathew jerked and looking up at him, said thickly, “I killed him, Simon. I killed Tom. I killed my own brother.”
Simon nodded, anguish for Mathew knifing through him. He was unsure of his own emotions about Tom’s death. They’d never been close, had actively disliked each other, but the man had been his brother. . . . And a smuggler, he reminded himself savagely. A would-be murderer. If not stopped, Tom would have cold-bloodedly killed Barnaby and Lamb to protect his smuggling activities. Mathew had killed Tom, but unknowingly, and to protect his own life and that of the others. To Simon’s mind, Mathew was a hero and bore no blame for Tom’s death.
Simon knew that the days ahead were not going to be easy for any of them, Mathew most of all. His heart ached for him. In a short span, Matt had seen the title and fortune he’d assume he’d inherit stripped away from him, and now he had to live with the terrible burden of having killed their brother—and the ugly scandal that was about to erupt.
Looking over at Barnaby slumped on the sofa, next to Emily, Simon asked, “When will you notify Deering?”
“Within the hour,” Barnaby said flatly. Picking up a snifter of brandy from the table at the end of the sofa, he took a hefty swallow. Setting down the snifter with a thud, he added, “Lamb and I will ride into the village and explain to Deering precisely what happened.” His eyes on Mathew’s face, he said slowly, “Deering will learn from us how it was that Tom came to me late this afternoon with the news that he had discovered that the smugglers were using the tunnels beneath Windmere to warehouse their contraband.” Barnaby paused, frowning. “I think”—he began, putting it together as he spoke—“that I asked Tom to inspect the old barn for me to see if he agreed with me that it should be destroyed.” Barnaby straightened. “Yes, that would work . . . and it was while he was there . . . remembering from childhood, the tunnels, he decided to see if the hidden entrance was still usable. He was horrified when he found the contraband.”
Mathew stiffened, staring hard at Barnaby. Barnaby’s gaze never wavering from his, he said, “Of course, once we were over our astonishment at his news, we thought it was most exciting and like the blundering amateurs we are, we had to see it for ourselves. Peckham, uh, accompanied us. Unfortunately, we stumbled into the smugglers moving their contraband. We were fired upon and in the exchange that followed, tragically your brother and my butler were killed.”
There was silence when Barnaby finished speaking, but Lamb and Luc were nodding their heads in agreement and Emily and Cornelia were staring at Barnaby with awed respect.
Cornelia thumped her cane on the floor and exclaimed admiringly, “You’re a very good liar. I like it!”
Looking at Mathew, Simon said quietly, “Matt, I think it would be best if we allowed Barnaby and Lamb to explain to Deering what happened.”
“I’m to hide behind a pack of lies?” Mathew cried.
“No,” said Barnaby coolly. “We’re all hiding behind a pack of lies, but I would remind you that this pack of lies will protect the family from scandal and allow the public to think that your brother died a hero. We know the truth. There is no reason to wash our dirty linen in public.”
“What of Nolles?” Emily asked. “Won’t he refute your story?”
Barnaby smiled grimly. “Nolles dare not say a word, else his part would be exposed.”
No one had anything else to say and after a moment, Barnaby rose to his feet. “Unless there are objections, Lamb and I shall be off to see Lieutenant Deering.”
Barnaby’s eyes met Mathew’s. They stared at each other a long moment and then slowly, almost imperceptibly, Mathew nodded.
When Barnaby and Lamb’s tale of the events at the old barn became public it created a nine days’ wonder in the neighborhood. Deering was delighted by the amount of contraband recovered from the tunnel and, as Barnaby had predicted, Tom was hailed as a hero. With his grieving relatives standing at his graveside, Tom was buried at Monks Abbey. Nolles, unfortunately, escaped unscathed, appearing as he swaggered around The Ram’s Head to be amazed as anybody by the discovery of a huge store of contraband in the tunnel.
All in all, Barnaby was satisfied with the outcome, but there was one last task he needed to complete before he could put the matter behind him. A week after Tom was laid to rest, Barnaby oversaw the dismantling of the barn and the filling in of the tunnel entrance with boulders brought in by estate carts.
Emily stood at his side as the last cart rolled up and the boulders were muscled into place. Where the barn had once stood, there was only an open space, a mound of rock and boulders marking the spot where the entrance to the tunnels had been.
“I’m a little sad to see it destroyed,” Emily said, her hand resting on Barnaby’s arm, “but at least Nolles won’t be using it anymore.”
Barnaby nodded. “We’ll have to do something about him eventually . . .” He grinned down at her. “But not for now. For now I’d like to live a rather mundane existence. No more smugglers underfoot . . .” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Your little band as well as the Nolles’s gang, and no more attempts on my life.”
She dimpled up at him. “Won’t you be terribly bored?” Barnaby laughed and, heedless of the workmen still about, swung her into his arms and kissed her. Emily responded sweetly and he was breathing hard when he finally lifted his lips from hers. “Bored?” he asked smiling at her, his heart overflowing with love. “Married to an Amazon? I sincerely doubt it.”
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Copyright © 2011 by Shirlee Busbee
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ISBN: 978-1-4201-2436-1
Rapture Becomes Her Page 39
