So her tears fell until she had exhausted them. Then she washed her face and crept back into her bed and curled herself around him as he snuggled closer to her in his sleep. She had told herself she could do this. She could love him and let him make love to her, but they seemed to be mutually exclusive, and though she tried, she couldn’t stop the breaking of her heart.
More determined the next day, she put on a smile and kissed his ear, and it started all over again. She prayed she be content with what she had: he was her husband, and, perhaps one day there would be a child to love her even if her husband never did.
***
Three days later, the lords prepared to go back to Town. They had planned to leave right after the wedding, but everyone—including Crispin’s sisters—enjoyed their company so much, they were asked to extend their stay. They did, but now they felt like they were intruding and begged they be allowed to return to London.
“Well, Crisp, are you happy?” Matt inquired.
Crispin pondered a moment and smiled. “Yes,” and then more strongly, “Yes, I am very happy. Cat is unlike any other; she is so special, I…I…”
“No matter, Crisp. It’s as plain as the nose on your face. You love her.”
“Matt, I…”
“Stop. I still will not listen to weak protestations that don’t mean a thing. One day you will wake up. Make sure it’s soon, as she needs to be made aware.”
The duke just sighed and said, “I don’t know. I love being with her, but…”
“Don’t wait to tell her. Something could happen, and you might not get an opportunity to do so.” He clapped his friend on the shoulder and wished them both well.
As the threesome headed back to Town, Lord Foxdown looked out the coach window straining to see one of Crispin’s sisters. Anna Marie wiped away the tears that coursed down her face, before her mother could notice them, and she wondered if she would ever see him again.
Chapter VII
They didn’t take a wedding trip, but Catherine said she didn’t mind. With the rushed wedding preparations, she claimed fatigue and said she would enjoy some time at leisure. They did begin to plan a trip for the spring to Scotland or Ireland. One of Crispin’s most lucrative estates was a horse breeding farm in Ireland. The originator of a number of winning race horses before the farm had been sold to his father, Crispin would look for at least two racers to ship back to England. He not only enjoyed seeing his horses run—and win—he also enjoyed a wager or two as well, although he stayed away from gambling as a rule.
Crispin at this time, however, worked closely with his steward, learning the intricate details of the estate. This did not deter him from his first occupation which was to make his wife happy. Each day he set time aside for her. Since they always had their meals together with the family, this time was special just for them. One day they had ridden the estate and appreciated the beauty of the property. Another day Catherine delighted to find that Crispin had planned a picnic for her at a pond with a magnificent prospect. The day it rained, Catherine had luncheon brought to them, and they battled each other with the chess set through most of the afternoon. But, no matter what they did during the day, their nights were heavenly in each other’s arms.
Yet, he uttered not one word, such as ‘I love you’ to his wife who was still waiting. And every few nights, she would silently cry herself to sleep while her husband slept on, his breath stirring wisps of her hair as she wiped away the tears.
Again, she reminded herself to be happy having him as her husband. She had dreamed about it for years, and now it had come true. Was everything perfect? No, but she did have him, and she believed him when he said there would never be any other for him. In the meantime, she and the dowager spent some of their time directing further renovations on the keep. Portions of the castle were dated and needed much improving. Crispin had considered several bathing rooms with large tubs that would accommodate his long legs more comfortably. These were installed with the first ones for his family and in the west wing for him and his wife. He was pleased to discover the tub large enough to hold both of them at one time, and this discovery provided quite a diversion for them.
One sunny day, the duke and duchess were riding along the eastern edge of the estate when a shot rang out, and Crispin’s hat flew off his head. “To the woods,” he cried out. And they urged their horses as far into the trees as they could go before they stopped.
“Did someone sh-shoot at us?” queried his wife in a quavering voice.
“It would seem so, unless it’s a poacher who doesn’t know how to aim a gun.” Crispin quickly ran through a mental list of names of individuals who might have a grudge against him. At the top of the list was the husband of his paramour from months back. Is he seeking revenge after all? He must find out. Foremost in his mind was keeping Cat safe. After telling her to wait for him, Crispin carefully circled around through the trees and came out of the woods about a quarter mile from where they had been shot at. No one appeared in any direction.
Not certain what he should do, he did decide on one thing as he rode back to where he’d left Cat. He would teach his wife to protect herself if he was not around to do so.
They rode back to the castle, where he got his pistols and had his head groom set up targets at differing distances in a field. And there he showed Cat how to fire a handgun. He was shocked to learn that his wife could load faster than he and was a natural born shot who was able to best his score two out of three times.
“Not only are you beautiful, intelligent, and passionate,” he growled, “but you are a devil of a shot also. Don’t tell the other lords or they will never let me live down that my wife is better with a pistol than I will ever be.” Both laughed, but he quickly sobered as he realized that entering into an affaire d’honneur with the cuckolded husband of his paramour might have gotten him killed. He shivered with a feeling as though someone had walked on his grave.
Being very watchful in all directions, they rode back to the stable. When they arrived, the duke looked for and found his steward and gave him orders to hire armed guards to ride the estate and to make sure he, or she, never had a chance to fire at them again. If it wasn’t the cuckold, Crispin had no idea who might want him dead.
Several days later, they got a copy of the London Times and read a notice stating that Lord Underwood’s body had been found at the waterfront, and he had been murdered. As he was a peer, the article was somewhat larger than the small notice regarding an apothecary by the name of Jeremy Cruikshank, who had also been found murdered in his shop. The odd thing about this killing was that it apparently wasn’t for the money as £75 had not been stolen. However, all his formulas, other paperwork, and all his herbs had gone missing.
“Cruikshank…Cruikshank. Why does the name sound familiar?” Crispin frowned as he tried to concentrate on where he’d heard the name before.
Suddenly, Cat said, “The house party. Lord Underwood talked about his friend, the apothecary. Wasn’t his name Jeremy?”
“Yes, you’re right. His name was Jeremy Cruikshank. And they were both murdered? Something’s wrong.” He thought a minute, “Didn’t the article say all his formulas were missing?”
The duchess looked it up again and confirmed the duke’s query.
A thought struck her husband, and he quashed a feeling of panic. The aphrodisiac. Did the murders occur because of the formula? God, does the killer know we were given the formula? The shot today…He was only partially successful in hiding the panic from his wife.
“What’s the matter, Crispin?”
How has she come to know me so well?
“The aphrodisiac may be the reason we were targets the other day.
Chapter VIII
That night as Crispin headed toward their suite of rooms, a furtive figure surprised him by stepping out the alcove. Before the duke could react, Lord Baskin struck him in the head with the butt of his pistol. With a groan, Crispin sank to the floor, dropping the candle which Bask
in quickly retrieved.
Crouching down and pointing the pistol at the duke, Lord Baskin hissed, “What did Damien tell you about the formula?”
Disoriented, Crispin couldn’t understand what he asked.
“I want to know how much Damien told you about the aphrodisiac.”
Pulling his thoughts together with difficulty, Crispin replied, “He told me nothing.”
Grabbing a fistful of hair and holding the gun to the duke’s head, Baskin asked him again.
Catherine had been awaiting Crispin’s return and heard a noise in the hallway. As she headed for the door to investigate, the hairs on the back of her neck rose, and her close connection with her husband caused her to hesitate. Something was dreadfully wrong. Going into her husband’s bedchamber, she very carefully opened his door to the hall and peeked out. She could see Crispin on the floor holding his head and someone standing over him. Getting one of the duke’s target pistols from the case, she quickly loaded it then sneaked through the door and carefully tiptoed toward both figures.
Raising the gun, she commanded in a loud voice, “Turn around.”
Baskin jumped when she shouted at him and swung to face her with his gun. The sconces on the wall weren’t close enough to Catherine for him to see exactly what she was carrying, as she had no candle, but he was sure his pistol would deter her. He smiled when he realized she was clad only in a nightgown. When he finished with her husband, he would ravish her, then he would kill her too. Stepping to Crispin’s side, he pointed the pistol at the duke’s head and laughed.
“Hallo, pretty lady. We meet again.”
“And where have we met before?”
“Ah, I am crushed. You do not remember me from the house party?’
“No, I’m afraid I do not.”
“’Tis a shame, my lady, you were never able to sample my charms. I was willing to pay £500 for one night with you.”
At this boastful comment, Catherine gasped.
“Yes, my lady, I would have put your husband to shame with my lovemaking, and you would never have gone back to him.”
“I doubt that seriously,” she said with a sneer.
“Come here and let me show you the difference between your husband and a real man.”
“No.”
“I will kill your husband right now if you do not come to me.”
“All right, but I must warn you, I have a gun in my hand.”
As Catherine walked toward him, he saw the pistol aimed at him and swung his up to shoot her.
She fired before he finished raising his gun.
With a shocked expression, he fell to the floor, dead from a bullet to the heart.
Cat dropped the pistol and rushed to the duke’s side shoving Baskin’s body farther away. “Crispin, are you all right?”
Her husband sat up slowly as she put her arms around him and gently kissed him on the mouth. “My love, what a complex creature you are. I could stay in your arms forever loving you passionately. Yet, I might fear your wrath if you lost patience with me.” Both chuckled at his attempt at humor. Then he inquired if Baskin was dead.
Catherine confirmed he was and raced back to her room where she rang continuously for the servants, which would bring several of them on the run. When she was certain they must have heard her, she put on her wrapper and slippers and returned to where Crispin still sat.
Within minutes, their butler and two of the footmen were pounding down the hallway. At night, they never used the servants’ stairway to the duke’s quarters as they were ordered not to.
Looking at the body on the floor, his butler asked, “Your Grace, are you and the duchess all right? What happened?”
“Don’t touch anything, Grantley. Send someone for the magistrate immediately. This man is dead, and I want to know how he broke into my home.”
“Y-Your Grace,” his butler stammered, “I locked all the doors as I do every night. All of the windows are locked as well. Unless he broke a window, I don’t know how he could have gained entry.”
“Check everything. I will know how he got into the Keep.” Turning to the newly hired footman, he said, “I want you to stay here with the body. Richards, go get the magistrate. Tell him it’s an emergency.”
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Uh, Your Grace, could I go for the magistrate. I don’t like the sight of blood.”
The duke looked at the new hire with a raised eyebrow. How odd. Being new to the household, this man shouldn’t have come with the other footman and the butler, and now he was requesting to leave. Why had he come? And why was he stilled neatly dressed when the other two were disheveled as they had dressed hurriedly.
“You have your orders. Obey them.” And Crispin asked Richards to help him to his bedchamber. When inside, he ordered him to send one of the other servants to the magistrate and asked him to hide and watch the new hire to make sure he didn’t disappear.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
Richards had been with the family for several years, and Crispin knew he could trust him.
After he left, Catherine got a wet cloth and cleaned the blood from her husband’s hair. Holding the candle close, she determined the bleeding had stopped and suggested he lie down until the magistrate arrived. He was more than willing as his head was pounding, so Catherine mixed a headache powder in water and had him drink it. Perhaps, he would feel better by the time he had to answer the questions he knew he would be asked.
“Cat.”
“Yes, Crispin.”
“Baskin wanted to know about the drug Damien gave us at the house party. He was probably the one who killed the apothecary and Lord Underwood. I will have to inform the magistrate about Damien telling me about the drug, however, I’m not going to say anything about what he did to us. That should be enough to satisfy him along with my suggestion he investigate Baskin’s activities. He may even get proof Baskin murdered both men.” He paused, “Are you all right? Even though it was to protect yourself, you killed a man tonight. Will you be well?”
She heaved a great sigh, then shakily whispered, “Yes…eventually. I don’t regret the fact I killed him. He was…evil and a dangerous man.” Closing her eyes, she said in a stronger voice, “I would have done anything to protect you, my love. Anything.”
With just a little touch of horror, Crispin refrained from asking her what she would be willing to do. Her actions this night were sufficient. Reaching over, he cupped her cheek and gently kissed her lips.
***
The magistrate, Robert Johnson, was thorough with his questions, but the duke stayed with the minimum amount of information and was truthful in all his replies. When he suggested an investigation be started as to whether or not Baskin might have murdered Damien and the apothecary, Johnson was quick to note the wisdom of it and said he would see it done. Before his men removed the body, and the household could begin to settle down for the night, there were two interruptions: the dowager appeared after being awakened by the many footsteps in the hallway, and Roberts brought the new footman to the magistrate and Crispin.
“Your Grace, I did as you ordered me and discovered Smith packing and getting ready to scarper, er, flee. The servants’ outside door was found unbolted. Lord Baskin probably came in through that entrance.”
The duke scowled and commented, “Yes, and Smith probably provided Baskin with a map of the Keep as well. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have known how to find me and the duchess.” Turning to the subdued footman, he demanded, “How much did he say he would pay you for the information?”
But the man refused to look at him, so Crispin grabbed him by both lapels and demanded again.
This time the man replied, “£100. Me family is in River Tick, and it would’ve helped.”
Since £100 was a veritable fortune to a footman, the duke could understand the temptation to betray the Copleys. He could understand but never approve. If the magistrate saw him sentenced, Crispin’s conscience would be clean. If released, Crispin would have to
let him go. The only question was if he would give him any type of reference at all when he only wanted to give him a facer for putting his wife at risk.
Johnson stepped in and assured the duke his men would take the man to gaol and question him further. They would get the whole story from him eventually.
By this time, the Duke of Weirlane was beginning to tire, and his head hurt abominably again. He obtained permission to have the area cleaned of any blood, however, there was precious little owing to the fact that Lord Baskin had died instantly.
All this while, the dowager stood off to the side and just listened. When Johnson and his men left with the body and the footman, she approached her son. “Crispin, what happened?”
He tried to form an answer, but instead swayed on his feet.
“Crispin!” cried the dowager. ”Are you injured?”
Catherine immediately grabbed his arm and pulled him to her side as he told his mother they would tell all on the morrow. But, for the moment, he needed to lie down and let Catherine further tend to his wound.
“Should I send for the doctor?” His mother was beginning to get anxious for him when she learned he’d been hit on the head.
“No, Mother. I’ll be fine.”
“I will see you on the morrow, then. Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Mama.” And she knew he was hurting, but as a grown man, he would make his own decisions. She delighted in the fact he was taking responsibility and beginning to handle it very well. As she turned to walk back to her bedchamber, she smiled. Eventually, he would become the son she knew he could be.
***
“Crispin, will you stay with me tonight?”
“Of course, my love.” He smiled and added softly, “Don’t I always?” After nearly killing a man in a duel when younger, Crispin came close to understanding how one might feel after actually killing someone. He would continue to be there for his wife as she made peace with her actions that night.
Lord Weirlane Page 5
