All Things Beautiful

by Cathy Maxwell

  Julia didn’t wait to evaluate the damage. With both hands, she heaved the poker back and swung in the opposite direction as she stepped forward. Geoffrey dodged to the side, knocking over Harry, who crawled furiously to the far corner of the room. The wicked poker sent books, the wineglass, and the bottle flying off Brader’s desk, barely missing the lamp. With a yelp, Jamie slid off the chair and scrambled for cover under the desk.

  She ignored Jamie’s sobs and Lionel’s moans. She wanted Geoffrey. The menacing poker held tightly in her hands, she took a step forward, stalking him. Geoffrey, wide-eyed with fear, moved back toward the door.

  The sound of Mrs. Elliott’s voice calling her name sliced through her consciousness a split second before Geoffrey turned to the sound. Julia started to warn her to stay away, but Mrs. Elliott had come too close.

  Geoffrey’s long arms snaked out. His hand snatched the companion’s wrist and dragged the startled woman through the door to use as a shield. Julia stopped dead in her tracks, but she still wielded the poker. She had every intention of killing him for the murder of her husband. He would make a mistake. She waited, poised to attack.

  Geoffrey held the stunned Mrs. Elliott in a crippling grip behind her back. The woman gave a sharp cry of pain. His other hand came out to the woman’s side, and Julia found herself staring into the bore of a silver pistol, small but deadly.

  Brother and sister faced off. She could smell Lionel’s blood and Jamie’s fear. The scent only triggered her resolve. She had no delusions about Geoffrey’s intentions. “Let Mrs. Elliott go, Geoff. This is between the two of us.”

  He spoke between gulps of breath, his eyes alive with excitement. “You amaze me, Julia. Maybe I shouldn’t have written you off so quickly after the scandal.”

  “Let her go.”

  He shook his head, grinning maniacally. “I can’t. I’m determined to see this matter through to the end. I can live very well on the Continent. Of course, that means leaving no witnesses to your demise.”

  Harry groaned. “Geoffrey—”

  “Shut up!” Geoffrey bit out. “And you too,” he said to Lionel, who held his bloody jaw in his hand. Jamie started crawling out from under the desk and around toward the door.

  Julia didn’t worry about poor inebriated Jamie. She kept her attention focused on the real threat, Geoffrey. “You won’t get away. No one will believe that Mrs. Elliott and I murdered each other.”

  “No?” Geoffrey’s eyes danced with anticipation. Calmly, he said, “James.”

  Jamie looked up, his eyes wide with fear. Geoffrey took aim and shot him in the head. Shocked, Julia turned in time to see Jamie’s body jerk and his eyes blink in surprise before he fell face first to the floor, where he writhed before the pistol shot finally did its job. Geoffrey tossed the pistol off to the side, the shot spent.

  Julia wasn’t the only one shocked. Harry had given a sharp shout of horror but now turned and vomited. Both Lionel and Mrs. Elliott cried openly, and Julia had a strong desire to join them.

  It flashed through her mind that Geoffrey was unarmed. Seizing the advantage, she turned back to him, the poker raised high above her head.

  She never swung.

  Geoffrey smiled. “You don’t think I would waste my only shot?” In his hand was another silver-tooled pistol like the first. “It’s frightening, Julia, how much alike we are. We could have done well together if only you’d been born without a conscience.”

  He heaved a melodramatic sigh. “The story will be simple. I had to kill Jamie. He went berserk in a fit of drunkenness and murdered his only sister and her companion. This story is not quite as neat, especially with Wolf’s death, but we’ll manage it.” Weaving his story he continued. “Lionel tried to stop him, and had his mouth split open for his pains.” He sighed. “The carpet will not be the same. Perhaps, in the struggle, the house caught on fire. A nice touch, no?”

  Geoffrey gave her his most charming smile, false and insincere. “As the only remaining family members, the Markhams will inherit a fortune. Do you have any idea how much your husband was worth? I could only gather general figures and speculation, although those amounts were more than enough to kill for.”

  His words raised a new panic in Julia: Nan! In their short time together, she’d failed Brader in so many ways, but she would not fail him in protecting his mother. This, her last act on this earth, she would do for him.

  “Brader!” she cried, before springing at Geoffrey. Later she would wonder where she gained the courage or the strength. One second she stood, poker over her head; the very next, she’d sent her body flying through the air at Mrs. Elliott and Geoffrey.

  He fired but not before she hit Mrs. Elliott in the midriff, knocking all three of them off balance. His shot went wide into the ceiling plaster that rained down upon their bodies.

  Julia didn’t think. She reacted. And her first reaction was to kill Geoffrey.

  Mrs. Elliott lay between them, her legs struggling with her long skirts, her hands finally free. Julia ignored the woman’s body, crawling up over it to reach for Geoffrey with her nails.

  He shoved Mrs. Elliott out of the way, giving Julia the opportunity she needed. With a sharp knee to his stomach, she reached for him. She wanted his blood.

  Geoffrey’s breath left him in a whoosh, but he fought back. He covered her face with his hand, pushing her back. She wouldn’t let him win. A surge of strength flashed through her. Julia twisted her face until she could sink her teeth in the soft skin between his fingers.

  He shrieked and attempted to jerk his hand away. Julia dug her fingers in the material of his clothes and held on until his fist struck the side of her head with such bone-jarring force her teeth flew apart. Tossed off him onto the hallway floor, she didn’t have a chance to gather her wits before Geoffrey climbed on top of her, his fingers closing around her neck.

  “You bloody little bitch. I’ll teach you not to interfere with me.”

  Frantically trying to reach his hands to pull them from her throat, she heard his words as if from a distance. She grew dizzy. In the darkening twilight of the hallway, Geoffrey’s face blurred before her.

  Clearly, succinctly, Julia realized she was about to die. Geoffrey had won. She closed her eyes, giving in to a wave of despair. She did not want her brother’s face to be the last thing she saw as he squeezed the life from her….

  Suddenly she was able to grab great gulps of air. Her body choked and heaved in reaction. Rolling over onto her side, she realized Geoffrey no longer held her captive.

  His boots still straddled her but he’d raised his body over her, the position unnatural. And then she realized that a tall dark figure held Geoffrey’s body by the neck. In a dark swirling coat and low-brim beaver, the man’s form, silhouetted by light from the open front door, looked like Brader’s. Brader, returned from the dead to wreak his vengeance on his murderers. Brader’s ghost held Geoffrey’s head.

  Digging her heels into the carpet to crawl away from the dark apparition, Julia wondered wildly if she was in hell.

  The sickening crunch of breaking bones echoed in the shocked stillness…and then Geoff’s knees buckled. As the figure lowered Geoffrey’s body to the floor, one of Geoffrey’s dangling hands hit Julia in the face.

  She screamed…and screamed and screamed until strong hands shook her by the shoulders. Hands, but not those of a ghost. Flesh-and-blood hands held her shoulders, shaking her gently back to consciousness, and when Julia gathered the courage to look up, her gaze met the dark, burning eyes of her husband. Her living husband.

  Raising her hands, she touched his face as if to convince herself he was solid and real. “He told me he killed you.”

  “He didn’t succeed,” he answered in the wonderful low, voice she’d grown to love. Julia threw her arms around his shoulders and buried her face in the folds of his greatcoat. His scent surrounded her. One arm wrapped around her waist, holding her tight against him as if he’d never let her go.

  He lift
ed his other arm. “Move, and I’ll blast you to your Maker,” he swore over her shoulder.

  Julia lifted her head and turned to discover Brader held a pistol on Harry and the babbling Lionel. Both were standing by an open window next to Brader’s desk. Mrs. Elliott had righted herself and stood to the side, pale and silent. Julia reached out to her and hugged her.

  A noise came from the hallway behind them. Julia started but Brader stood still, intent on her two brothers huddling in the study. Herbert Fuller and several swarthy men from his security force, armed with pistols, charged in from the rear of the house.

  Only when Fuller and his men took over Harry and Lionel did Brader relax his stance. He moved with Julia out into the hallway, lifting her bodily up and over the broken form of Geoffrey lying on the floor.

  When he let go of her, she had to lean against him for support. Her hair hung wild and tangled around her face. He reached out and tucked a strand of it back behind her ear. There was such tenderness in his touch, she melted against him without further thought to her appearance. She looked back down at Geoffrey. “He said he saw your body. They all said they saw you dead—and the constable?”

  “We staged it all. Geoffrey was never as clever as he believed.”

  “So you knew about it? That Geoff was behind the highwaymen?”

  Brader nodded. “I’ve had Geoffrey followed ever since he ran out on his Greek wife. Fuller’s men heard he was looking for someone who could ‘remove’ his brother-in-law. I grew up on London’s streets and still have friends in unusual places. Geoffrey should have remembered that before he bandied my name about.”

  “You don’t believe I was a part of it, do you?”

  “No. Not after the night they came for dinner. I never doubted you after that night. Shortly after our dinner, Fuller and I arranged for Geoffrey to hire my own men to act as highwaymen and murder me. Perceval never sent a message. Geoffrey had a contact in the War Ministry who sent it.” Brader looked down at the body. “He moved faster than I anticipated. Nor did I think he would harm you.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “For what?” he asked, puzzled.

  It was hard to see him through the tears. “My family tried to kill you—”

  “And you,” he added grimly.

  “I love you.” The words came out before she could stop them. Julia held her breath. The day before she hadn’t even imagined such a thing and now her love for him was so concrete, so real, she couldn’t imagine not having seen it before.

  Brader went still. And then the light in his eyes burned bright and proud. “Do you mean that, Julia?”

  She nodded, afraid she’d lose all control and collapse into a babbling fool like Lionel. Swallowing, she managed to go on. “With all my heart. When I thought you’d died…” She couldn’t finish the sentence; the ending was too terrible.

  Laughing, Brader caught her up in a bear hug. She looped an arm around his neck and grinned, content to be squeezed and cosseted by this large wonderful man who was her husband.

  The discreet clearing of a throat caught their attention. Mrs. Elliott stood a few steps away. “I want to thank you, Mrs. Wolf. If it hadn’t been for you, who knows what that madman would have done.” She turned to Brader. “She attacked the man. I’ve never seen a woman fight like that. I’m sure, were it not for her bravery, we’d all be dead by now.”

  With her words, Brader tightened his arms around Julia. But Julia was too honest to deny the truth. “If it weren’t for me, Mrs. Elliott, none of this would have happened.”

  Brader looked down. “Julia, that’s not true.”

  “Yes, it is. He’s my brother. Maybe I should have given them money. Maybe all of this could have been avoided. When they told me they’d murdered you, I went a little mad, and then all I could think was that he’d kill Nan too.” Julia raised her hand to her lips. “Oh, dear, Mrs. Brown and Nan. We should check on them.”

  Mrs. Elliott was already on her way out the door before Julia finished speaking. She started to follow but Brader held her back.

  “Mrs. Elliott will go upstairs. Rest here. You’ve been through a dreadful ordeal.” Two of Fuller’s men carried Geoffrey’s body out while another man lighted candles to provide better light in the house. Others were preparing to remove Jamie’s body.

  Her knees began to shake, her stomach churned from anxiety, and her head pounded. She couldn’t agree with him more. “What am I going to tell my parents?” she managed to say before they heard the sound of a cry from upstairs.

  She and Brader moved as one toward the stairs. At the top, Mrs. Elliott held her arm around a weeping Mrs. Brown. Brader started up the stairs two at a time, but Mrs. Elliott’s voice stopped him. “Mrs. Brown and your mother didn’t hear any of the commotion below until the pistol shot.”

  Julia gave a small prayer of thanksgiving. The thick walls of Kimberwood had shielded Nan from the drama in the study.

  Mrs. Brown came down to the step above where Brader stood. Anxiously, Mrs. Elliott followed her. Again, Julia had a terrible sense of foreboding. “Mrs. Brown, what is it?” She asked.

  Tears rolling down her round cheeks, Mrs. Brown faced Brader. “When I heard the shot, I went to check on Mrs. Ashford. She’d been sleeping so soundly all afternoon.” Her lower lip quivered. “I’m sorry, Master Wolf, but your mother passed from this world sometime in the past hour in her sleep.”

  Julia’s world spun and turned black.

  Twenty

  Julia closed the valise with a sense of finality. Night’s dark shadows filled the room. She had deliberately kept the wick low on the lamp, anxious to finish her packing with a modicum of movement so as not to attract Brader’s attention.

  She had to leave Brader Wolf.

  It took all her willpower to fight the urge to climb back into the bed they had shared, pull her knees up to her chest, and lie there waiting for her world to end. Her grip tightened on the leather handles of the valise until her knuckles turned white. How easily did she return to that spineless creature who thought all problems could be solved by her own demise!

  Forcing herself to take deep, steadying breaths, Julia fought the desire to give up. Her life stretched before her, full of long, empty hours, but she would go on. She would survive.

  Crossing the room with a determined stride, she reached for her old fur-lined pelisse and put it on over the green merino wool she’d worn for her marriage ceremony to Brader. Her fingers trembled as she picked up her gloves.

  The door opened. Her hands went still as Brader, tall and dark, stepped into the room.

  He looked first at the bed, obviously expecting her to be lying there. Pulling his eyebrows together in concern, his gaze focused on the valise on the foot of the bed, searched upward, and settled on her.

  He took in her appearance in the old pelisse. Her travel bonnet sat on his desk. Julia held her breath, firm in her resolve. Gloves forgotten, she clasped her hands in front of her.

  He frowned, the expression on his face puzzled. “You’re leaving.” It came out more a statement than a question.

  “I think it best.”

  “Best?” Bitterness etched the word. The sudden light of pain in the dark depths of his eyes surprised her. She didn’t want to hurt him. Never wanted to hurt him. “I thought you loved me.”

  “I do.” A lump hard and sharp grew in her throat. It ached when she swallowed, but she refused to cry. Nor would she throw caution to the wind and run to his arms.

  He loved her.

  And because she loved him, she would leave.

  She chose her words carefully. He must understand. “The scandal will ruin everything you’ve built.”

  “Scandal!” The words exploded from his lips. “Do you think that’s all I care about? What other people think of me?” He took a step toward her and then paused. Changing his mind, he spun sharply on one heel, crossed the room, and slammed the wardrobe door shut. Julia jumped at the sound of cracking wood.

  He rounde
d on her with blazing eyes. “Was it all just a sham? Were you in league with Geoffrey? I noticed you didn’t shed a tear over his death. Was it all planned?” He leaned back against the wardrobe, the expression on his face suddenly bleak. “Are you capable of such treachery?”

  Julia staggered back as if he’d struck her. “No! I knew nothing.” She crossed to him, placing her hands on his arm. “Please, Brader, you must believe, I knew nothing of their plans. When I thought they’d harmed you…”

  She couldn’t finish the thought, suddenly, acutely aware that she’d done what she shouldn’t have done—gotten close to him, touched him. She jerked her hands back as if his arm had turned as red hot as a blacksmith’s iron.

  But Brader was faster. He caught her hand and held it. His body loomed over her while his hand pulled her closer. When he moved his other arm to encircle her waist, Julia felt a moment’s panic. How could she resist him? She prayed she would and that he’d accept and understand her reasons—for his sake.

  “Why, Julia? Why do you want to leave?” The deep timbre of his voice accented his hurt. It took all her willpower not to melt into him and tell him she didn’t mean those words.

  She bit her lower lip to keep it from trembling. “If not for the Markhams, you would have been able to spend your mother’s last hour on this earth with her, not traipsing around alone on a Christmas morn chased by murderers.”

  His arm tightened around her waist, pulling her closer until the folds of his neck cloth brushed her cheek. His voice softly hushed her, before he lowered his head and placed a light kiss against her hair. “I just wish I’d foreseen their attack on you. We trailed them back here.”

  His words confirmed what she’d suspected. Suddenly uncomfortable, she pushed herself away. “But Fuller advised you to see how the game played out,” she finished tersely.