A Most Peculiar Season Series Boxed Set: Five Full-length Connected Novels by Award-winning and Bestselling Authors

by Michelle Willingham

  “You’re bluffing, Collingwood.”

  The simple logic in Trudy’s words haunted him. ...sometimes, Collingwood, you must break the law in order to do the right thing. “I assure you, I am quite prepared to prove every word—to the authorities and your peers. Why do you think I invited witnesses to our game? They do not know the story I told is yours, but they will if you persist. They will realize that I was warning them.” Dare heaved a deep sigh. Men could become deucedly difficult when their pride was pricked. “Come now. Be gracious. Be the men I know you are. You’ve taught the lad a lesson. He is willing to make things right, and that is the least you can do. This whole sordid affair will be done with.”

  Halston’s eyebrows shot up as if he’d just realized something. “Bloody hell! If Carr is the Shadow, he killed old Amory!”

  “Never. What possible reason could he have to do such a thing? Amory was not a part of your little coterie. Carr would have no reason to steal from him. Whoever killed Amory was trying to make it look like the Shadow was the culprit.”

  Carr moved to his side as the men formed a group and talked in muted tones. Dare realized for the first time that his own future depended upon their decision. He scarcely knew himself. He’d lied, he’d subverted the law, he’d withheld information and evidence in an investigation, and now he could add blackmail to that list. God only knew what he might do next.

  Morvill cleared his throat and lifted his chin. “Though it galls us, we concede the sense in what you say, Collingwood. I believe we have made our point, and that, perhaps, Carr deserves a bit of mercy. We are agreed to your terms.” Behind Morvill, his friends nodded.

  The tension in Dare’s shoulders eased. “I had every confidence that you would. And, as Carr reminded me earlier this evening, there is dignity in silence, is there not? I propose we all honor that principle. ‘Twould have been a pity if there was any retaliation, any gossip about this, or anything that would force one of us to see that the unvarnished facts were known and let the cards fall where they may.”

  Morvill nodded, acknowledging the veiled warning. “How do you suggest we proceed?”

  “Since you’ve all been so understanding, I think Carr should arrange to have your things returned to you by noon tomorrow or, better still, do it himself. And each of you shall convey Carr’s markers back to him in exchange. Is that agreeable?” He waited until each of them had nodded assent before he spoke again.

  “Excellent! I believe that concludes the matter. Shall we return to our game? I fear our comrades have eaten everything in sight and left nothing for us. Or we could return to the dancing. There must be more than one fair maid in want of a partner.”

  Carr looked stunned and Dare realized he’d been balancing on a very fine edge. Now it was over. He had broken his beloved law, but scandal had been averted. The right thing had been done and justice had been served. The Carrs were on course for an unspoiled wedding day and a bright future.

  His future, however, was a bit more murky.

  There had been a marked absence of men in the ballroom for the past hour or two, and Trudy wondered why. Surely Collingwood had not instigated a contest of the sort men were so fond of? Was there nothing they wouldn’t wager over?

  Trudy moved closer to the French doors to the terrace. They were open, allowing a cool breeze to penetrate the warmth of the ballroom. The evening air would do wonders in calming her anxiety. She was glad of a moment alone to collect her wits. She’d been on edge, fearful of forgetting herself and saying something that would reveal one of the secrets she was keeping. She could barely keep them straight anymore.

  Oh, this was all too much! She spun around and slipped through the doors. She needed to be alone with her thoughts. Unfortunately, there was already a small group of couples engaged in conversation and jesting on the terrace. They motioned her to join them, but she waved and went down the terrace steps into the gardens.

  She stopped while she could still hear music, the murmur of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. She wanted solitude, not isolation. Ducking beneath the trailing branches of a willow, she leaned back against the trunk and felt her tension easing with the memory of the things Dare had done beneath the Devonshire’s willow. Within a moment or two, she was almost able to believe that everything would come aright.

  The crunch of pebbles underfoot alerted her that she wasn’t alone and she peered from beneath the branches. Charles Amory. She held her breath hoping he hadn’t noticed her in the shadows.

  “I say, is that you, Miss Gertrude?”

  Drat! “Yes, Mr... um, Lord Amory.”

  He laughed. “I am as unaccustomed to hearing that as you are to saying it. My dear father is not yet in the ground.”

  She wished he sounded a bit sorrier when he said that. “Did you have your meeting with Lord Towe?”

  “Yes. All is settled. I am my father’s only heir, after all.”

  Had there been a doubt? “I am glad to hear it. Perhaps now you can mourn in peace.”

  “You are very dear to worry about me, but put your mind to rest. I am already quite at peace.”

  A little shiver passed through her. What an odd conversation.

  “And fortune is on my side, it would seem. I was hoping for just such an opportunity to be alone with you.”

  “You were? Whatever for?”

  “To tell you that I know who the Mayfair Shadow is.”

  Trudy blinked. He couldn’t possibly know such a thing. “You are jesting, Lord Amory.”

  “Not at all, m’dear. I actually found it quite easy to follow you and your brother. I saw him pinch Lady Beatrice’s brooch at Carlton House. Then I was most amused to see you abroad after dark as a lad. Nicely done. Until that precise moment, I really thought your brother alone was the Shadow. Imagine my surprise to realize you are a team.”

  Her heart raced and ice formed in the pit of her stomach. There was something she should remember. Something important. She frowned. “You are mistaken. Lancelot merely danced with Lady Beatrice. And I am not the Shadow. My masquerade as a boy was a lark.”

  “Hmm. Still, it will be amusing to have you found with my watch in your possession.”

  His watch? “I do not have your watch.”

  “You will.”

  “How...?” Of course! Lancelot did not have Amory’s watch, so Amory’s watch had never been stolen. He had lied. Fear prickled the back of her neck.

  “I see you are beginning to understand, Miss Gertrude.”

  “I am afraid not. None of what you are saying makes any sense, Lord Amory. I think you have had too much to drink.” She took several steps backward. “I am returning to the house. I suggest you go home.”

  “Before you go, would you mind telling me what you’ve done with the jewelry I left scattered around my father? Most of it was trivial, but the sapphire bracelet was a bit dear. I am going to be needing that now.”

  Trudy’s mind was racing, trying to put Amory’s words together in some sensible way.

  “I even managed to get my hands on one of your brother’s buttons and left it on the ground near my father. Stroke of genius, if you ask me. But your brother or Collingwood found it first, I think. You wouldn’t happen to have another, would you?”

  She shook her head. “I haven’t the faintest notion what you are talking about, Lord Amory.” But she was beginning to put the puzzle together.

  He seized her arm and jerked her toward him. “Would you like to scratch me, Miss Gertrude? Strike me? I’d be obliged if you’d leave some marks to brand me a victim.”

  Trudy was aghast as everything became clear. “You killed your father, did you not, and meant to blame it on the Shadow? You left those things in the clearing to incriminate Lancelot.”

  Amory shrugged. “You or him. It really does not matter. Your brother is going to hang for his crimes anyway. He may as well hang for mine, too.”

  Fear constricted her throat so she could barely speak. “You... you k-killed you
r own father?”

  “He called me a spendthrift and a scoundrel. Said he was going to disinherit me. Couldn’t let that happen, could I?”

  “You came here tonight to speak to Lord Towe to assure yourself that your father did not have time to disinherit you.”

  “Aye, you’re a sharp one.”

  His hand tightened around her arm. “But you are here now and I must put you away so you cannot tell your story.”

  He was going to kill her! “You will not get away with this. Lancelot will vouch that I am not the Shadow!”

  “But who will vouch for Lancelot?” Amory laughed and she realized he was quite void of any conscience at all. “I suspect he is smart enough to keep his mouth shut, m’dear. If you are not the Shadow, he’d be the next logical choice, would he not? Once you are dead, do you really think he would put a noose around his own neck?”

  She struggled to break free, but his grip was unshakable. He cut her scream for help short by his backhand across her cheek. Her ears rang as he slipped his arm around her neck.

  She was going to die.

  After a few more hands of whist, Dare and Morton made their way out of the card room, intending to take a shortcut across the gardens to the ballroom wing. Morton clapped him on the shoulder and laughed. “Damn me if that wasn’t one of the most entertaining evenings I’ve had in a long time.”

  “I didn’t know you were such an enthusiastic gambler.”

  “I like a game as much as the next person, Dare, but it was the byplay I found interesting. I would not go so far as to say you’ve made some enemies, but I vow a few of our peers will be giving you wide berth for a while.”

  Dare shrugged. “None of us will talk, Morton. Exposure—either of Carr as the Shadow, or Morvill’s coterie as cheaters—would benefit no one.”

  “I gather we’ve become accessories tonight by brokering this bargain. There would be no way to escape the stink of this no matter which side you’re on.” Morton quirked his eyebrow in a cynical arch. “But how will you prove you found the Mayfair Shadow? You will be the only loser here, Dare. Hardly seems fair.”

  “I hope to win a far greater prize. I pray you will not be so blind as to ignore the gift in front of you.”

  “I haven’t the faintest notion—”

  Dare cut him off with a wave of his hand. “Balderdash, Morton! You don’t have to admit it, but do not lie to me. We have been friends far too long for that.”

  “Hmm. I think I shall keep mum on the subject. But what of your wager? Are you going to let Littleworth win?”

  “Haven’t a choice in the matter. I cannot name Lancelot Carr as the Shadow or his reasons will come out. I gave my word to Morvill’s group that nothing more would be said.”

  “But your reputation—”

  “Unfortunate, but there it is.”

  “I might point out that you needn’t name the Shadow. According to the terms of the wager, you need only find a piece of jewelry reported stolen by the Shadow.”

  “Yes, but the pieces are being returned to their owners, and—”

  “You are responsible for them being returned, are you not?”

  “I think that is a bit problematic.”

  “For you, perhaps.”

  Dare laughed. “Why do you care?”

  Morton grinned. “Because you won, by God, even if you cannot brag about it. My money was on you. Damned if I don’t want Littleworth bragging that he bested you when he didn’t.”

  “Ah. So to win your bet, I must win mine? Pride and profit are always good motives.”

  “Afraid so, my friend. I’ll vouch for you and I daresay we can impose upon Morvill and the others to cooperate. They will have to admit they have their goods back if their womenfolk are to wear them again. Where’s that sapphire bracelet you found near old Amory’s body?”

  Dare removed it from his watch pocket and dangled it by the clasp. “It’s not Lady Halston’s. I suspect it may be the Amory heirloom.”

  Morton snatched it out of his hand. “I’ll take care of it.”

  Dare cocked an eyebrow. “Hard up for the ready these days?”

  “Insurance against emergencies.”

  “What sort of emergency—?” He paused when he heard the sound of a sharp smack, a gasp and a muffled cry to his right.

  Morton heard it, too, and nodded. They turned down an intersecting path and ran toward the sound. He heard footsteps behind them—others were also looking for the source of the disturbance. As they rounded a corner in the winding path, the scene that greeted them was appalling.

  Amory had his arm around Trudy’s neck and was tightening his hold. She clawed at his arm, trying to loosen his grip. Her face was flushed from a lack of oxygen and she was attempting to stomp on his foot.

  Blind fury seized Dare. He did not recall closing the distance between them, just gripping Amory’s arm with one hand, Trudy with the other, and flinging Amory backward. Morton moved toward Amory, leaving Dare to see to Trudy’s welfare.

  He pulled her into his arms and squeezed so tightly that she squeaked a protest. “My God, Trudy! Are you all right?”

  “Yes... yes... now you are here.”

  Morton grunted. “Wish I could say the same about Amory.”

  Dare turned. Morton was kneeling beside Amory, who was staring sightlessly at the sky. He looked at Morton for an answer.

  “Dead. Hit his head on the brick border of the path. You were rescuing Miss Gertrude. It couldn’t be helped.”

  Perhaps not, but— “Damn.”

  “Perhaps you ought to take Miss Gertrude inside. I will handle things here.”

  He could feel Trudy’s trembling against him and his every instinct urged him to take her away from this ungodly mess. “What—”

  “I know what to do, Collingwood. Wait for me in Towe’s library. I will join you when I’ve dealt with this.” With a wry lift of his eyebrow, he reached into his jacket and withdrew the sapphire bracelet.

  A moment later, the clearing filled with curious guests.

  Torn between his conscience and his concern for Trudy, he removed his jacket and draped it around her shoulders with little hope it would still her trembling. “We will inform Towe and send for the charleys.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  FOR THE SECOND time in a few days, Trudy sat near a fireplace holding a tumbler half full of alcohol. She thought it was whiskey or brandy—she couldn’t tell which, but it was strong and it lit a fire in her stomach. Slowly, she was beginning to warm and her shivering ceased. Outside, she could see the coaches lining up and somber guests departing. She wished she were one of them.

  Near the door, Collingwood stood in conversation with an investigator, Lord Towe and Lord Morton, nothing but an occasional nod or shake of his head to indicate what they were discussing. She was grateful that Collingwood had managed to keep her family away by assuring them that she was faring well. He sent them home with the promise to bring her to them as soon as possible. The last thing she needed now was her mother’s hysteria and her father’s blustering.

  Collingwood gave a final nod to something the investigator said and turned to give her a reassuring smile as he came toward her. Odd, how her heart could leap at the prospect of being near him again. Though appearing in shirtsleeves was improper, she did not want to give his jacket back. She liked the way it smelled of him—soap, leather and something indefinably masculine. Comforting, calming, and secure.

  He sat across from her and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “I can take you home now, Trudy. There will be no lengthy investigation.”

  “Will the magistrate not want to talk to me?”

  “He said it would be unnecessary based upon the circumstances.”

  “What circumstances?”

  “Morton and I were witnesses to Amory’s assault on you. In addition, a search of the grounds around Amory revealed stolen jewelry, the broken walking stick Amory used to kill his father, and his own watch. With a little gu
idance, the investigator concluded that Amory was the Mayfair Shadow, that he had only reported his watch stolen so that he would look like a victim, and that he killed his father with his walking stick in Halston’s garden to keep him from disinheriting him. Tonight, you came across him trying to hide the evidence and he attempted to kill you to silence you. The magistrate is quite willing to close the investigation based on his findings.”

  “But, Dare... it is a lie.”

  “How so? Do you deny that Amory was the killer?”

  “No. But—”

  “Or that he meant to kill you, too?”

  “I...”

  “Or that he was found to be in possession of items attributed to the Shadow?”

  “You know that—”

  “That this is the easier explanation? That it will satisfy the magistrate and society, and that it will damage no one?”

  “Does Lancelot know about this?”

  “Yes, and he was a bit reluctant to accept this conclusion. But, Trudy, it satisfies all parties involved. Even before you stumbled upon Amory, Lancelot had arranged to return the things he pilfered, and his victims had agreed to return his markers. And now a killer has been found and dealt with. Do not forget that Lancelot, himself, was a victim. To make it all public now would only confuse the matter and embarrass a good deal more people than your brother.”

  She puzzled over his explanation, but she could find no fault with it, save— “But it is not the complete truth.”

  He smiled. “’Twould seem the tables have been turned—me arguing for justice while you argue for the law. But here is a truth or two for you. Amory was a killer and would have killed you, too. He’d have been convicted had he lived. All was well for Lancelot even before you encountered Amory and he attempted to kill you. Amory’s reputation can suffer no worse once it is known he killed his own father. So, if this explanation will help the authorities to put the matter to rest, and no harm is done by it, let them believe what they may.”

  “Oh. But—”

  “Is this the right thing for Lancelot, Trudy?”