Read A Bewitching Bride Online
Authors: Elizabeth Thornton
A Bewitching Bride (28 page)
“That he was a thief or a burglar?”
They were in the bridal chamber, with the gas lamps turned up. Gavin was pacing in front of the window, and Kate was sitting close to the fire with a scarlet plaid stole around her shoulders to ward off drafts. They were expected to join Kate’s family in the private parlor to talk things over and have a bite to eat.
Gavin nodded. “According to Cedric,” he went on, “Liddel was thrown out of Sandhurst for petty theft and cheating at cards. The police have yet to confirm this, but everything leads them to believe that it’s a clear case of accidental death.”
“Just like the last time,” Kate replied reflectively.
Gavin’s face was grim when he faced her. “Not quite. In this case, Cedric and I were the only ones to give the police our formal statements. As soon as word got out that the police had been sent for, the hotel emptied of guests
and
mourners.”
and
mourners.”
“Why? What have they to hide?”
Some of the tension went out of him, and he grinned. “It wouldn’t be the first time an errant husband had kept an assignation with his light-o’-love in an obscure hotel. He’d hardly want it to get back to his wife, or vice versa if the lady were married, and the police are not known for their discretion in such delicate situations.”
She gave him a cool stare. “Had much practice in that quarter, Hepburn?”
“With married women? Never.” He waited a breath. “And you? Had much practice with men, Kate?”
She thought of the male patients at the clinic. Suppressing a smile, she said modestly, “A little, but only with married men.”
“Careful, Kate, or I’ll forget that I’m a husband in name only.”
It took a moment for her to grasp his meaning, then hot color flooded her face. “Imbecile,” she hissed. “It was a joke.”
He gave her a lazy grin. “As I am well aware. Did you know that when your temper is up, your eyes change color? There’s a hint of violet in them. It’s very attractive.”
Voice like ice, she replied, “Can we get back to what is really important—the police investigation?”
He gave a quick chuckle but allowed himself to be diverted. “It’s as I told you. They think what they were meant to think, that Liddel was a burglar who came by his just deserts when he tripped and fell down the stairs. Case closed.”
“What they were meant to think? It could be true, couldn’t it? And if he was the man on the moor, then all our worries are over, and we can stop looking over our shoulders day and night.”
He gave her a long, steady look. “You don’t really believe that?”
“No. I just wish it were true. I’m speculating. That’s all.”
“Well, speculate on this. Liddel was at the Deeside Hotel in Ballater. Now he is here in Aberdeen and just happens to show up at our hotel. A thief with his expensive tastes wouldn’t waste his time in a second-class establishment like this. He’d try for one of the first-class hotels in Union Street where the pickings would be better. But more important by far, he seems to know where we will be almost before we know it ourselves.”
She thought about his words before answering him. “When my family visits Aberdeen, they always put up at this hotel. It’s close to the beach and not far from the clinic. It wouldn’t be too hard for Liddel to figure out that I’d turn up sooner or later. However . . .”
“What?”
“While you were waiting for the police to arrive, I did a lot of thinking. Liddel wasn’t after me. He didn’t lure me into that staircase. I followed him.”
Another interval of silence went by. “What are you thinking?” Kate asked finally.
“Perhaps he was meeting someone, his partner in crime, I assume. There was a falling-out of thieves, or perhaps it was premeditated, or perhaps his partner decided to cut his losses and act for himself.”
“How did Liddel’s killer slip away? Cedric was outside smoking a cigar, and I was still upstairs. I would have seen anyone who came through that door.”
“Are you sure of that?”
She wasn’t sure, because she hadn’t kept her eye on the door all the time. She had been waylaid by Sally.
When he extended his hand, she automatically placed her hand in his. He pulled her to her feet. “Something is on your mind,” he said. “What is it?”
Her eyes searched his. “What were you doing on the staircase? Were you following me?”
He grinned. “You were emitting a signal that only I can hear. I mentioned that once before. ‘Gavin!’ you were screaming. ‘Come and save me. I’m in mortal danger! ’ Not that I heard your words clearly, but your message was loud and clear.”
“As it was,” she replied, not liking his portrait of a woman who needed a man to rescue her at every turn, “I didn’t need rescuing at all. The poor man was dead.”
He adjusted the stole around her shoulders and examined her critically. “Scarlet becomes you,” he said. “You should wear it more often.”
“Possibly.” Her tone was aloof. “But I wear what is suitable for the occasion.” She threw off the stole, folded it neatly, and set it over the back of a chair. “Shall we go?”
They made directly for the private parlor where her family had assembled for a late supper. Everyone was crowded around the table, demolishing, like the frugal Scots they were, the last of the funeral meats the caterers had supplied. Kate was the only one in full mourning.
“Told you so,” said Gavin. “You should have worn the scarlet stole.”
Kate pretended not to hear. Squaring her shoulders, she made straight for her cousin Hamish. Gavin watched as they became involved in an animated conversation, their two heads bent together like conspirators.
She was up to something, he thought.
Then again, so was he.
Kate lay quietly in bed, breathing evenly, trying to convince her in-name-only husband that she had fallen asleep. She tried to keep her mind blank, but of course, that wasn’t possible, so she focused on something irrelevant: the heather-clad moors of home, the broom blazing with its yellow blossoms, and the snow-capped peaks of the Cairngorms.
She liked to think it was a paradise, but it wasn’t. Eagles and hawks abounded as did foxes, stoats, and weasels, and birds and beasts of prey were always on the hunt for their next meal. How was it possible that she had become the hunted?
This wasn’t the first time she’d been hunted.
The thought exploded through her brain.
This wasn’t the first time she had been hunted, she and her mother both.
This wasn’t the first time she had been hunted, she and her mother both.
Her breathing became erratic. Why? When? How? Who?
She had no answers except that they’d found a temporary shelter with someone. Who? Who had waited for her on the other side of that door in her dream? That’s what she had to find out.
She knew where she would find answers. It seemed, now, that she had always known but had suppressed her memories because she was afraid of what they would reveal. But not knowing was far more dangerous than knowing. When she had answers, she would decide how much she would tell Gavin.
“Gavin?” she whispered. Good. He was snoring softly. It was time to join her cousins.
As soon as he heard the door click, Gavin was off his makeshift bed and grabbing for his clothes. It irked him that she hadn’t taken him into her confidence. He couldn’t get into her mind for answers because she’d taken good care to wall him off. Hamish was easier to read: adventure, danger and . . . a convent. A convent? What did a convent of nuns have to do with anything? Unless . . . he let the thought revolve in his mind . . . unless that was where Kate and her mother had taken refuge all those years ago.
Refuge? That’s not how Kate saw it in her dreams. It was a prison.
What in hell’s name was going on?
He dressed in double-quick time and met Dalziel just inside the back door of the hotel. “I’m sorry,” said Dalziel, “so sorry. I took my eyes off her for only a moment—”
Gavin held up a hand to silence the other man. “If anyone is to blame, it’s me,” he said, “and you couldn’t have known about the side door. Just tell me where she is now.”
“She is with her cousins,” Dalziel said. “They’re walking toward the beach. And they are armed.”
“Armed? Not Kate, surely?”
“I saw Hamish hand her a revolver. I think he showed her how to use it.”
“Bloody hell!” He stood there fuming. “Get off to bed, Dalziel,” he finally said. “I know where they are going.”
He was remembering Kate and he walking along Constitution Street on their way to the beach, and how she had shivered when they passed the old Catholic hospice and school.
He didn’t follow her. He aimed to get there before her. On that thought, he turned into the lane behind the hotel and set off at a sprint.
Hamish became less cocky the nearer they approached the old Catholic hospice. “You never did tell us, Kate, why we had to be armed to face a bevy of nuns. What kind of trouble are you expecting?”
“Keep your eyes peeled,” she admonished. “It’s not the nuns I’m worried about. It’s who we may meet on the way. A woman out alone at this time of night invites the wrong kind of attention.”
Rory gave her an awkward pat on the back. “Never fear, Kate. We’ll see that no harm comes to you.”
She blinked back the sudden sting in her eyes. It was ever thus. Though she was a good five years older than her cousins, even as children, they’d fought her battles for her whenever the local children taunted her with being a freak. And she had fought their battles for them, not with her fists but with her words.
They really were the oddest family, each a little fey in their own way.
“Why isn’t Hepburn with us?” Hamish asked.
She knew that tone—censorious, with an edge of belligerence threatening retribution if Gavin failed to live up to what her hotheaded cousins expected of him.
“I didn’t invite him,” she said simply. “Look, I want answers to what really happened all those years ago. Who was my mother? You know how it has always bothered me. Nobody seems to know. I want to think about it and decide how much I’m going to tell my new husband, that’s all.”
“And you think you’ll find answers at the convent?” asked Rory, disbelief rife in his voice.
“I don’t know. I hope so.”
“You’ve left it a wee bit late, haven’t you, lass?” Hamish put in.
“I’d forgotten about the convent until we passed it the other day. It may mean nothing at all, but I have to find out.”
It was a three-story edifice, and lights shone dimly from various parts of the building. They entered the precincts by an iron gate and approached the lighted porch that overhung the main entrance. Kate used the bellpull to alert the porter to their presence, and after a moment or two, the door swung open. The kindly faced nun did not seem surprised to see them and ushered them inside and shut the heavy door with a bang. Her name, she said, was Sister Anne.
“Sister Dolores is expecting you,” said Sister Anne. “The sisters are at Compline, but not Sister Dolores. She cannot manage the stairs, you see.”
Kate and her cousins exchanged a quick glance. They were expected? They hadn’t even given their names.
The little nun chattered as she led the way. Kate waved her cousins to follow, but she wasn’t ready yet, not nearly ready, to leave the corridor where she had last seen her mother. It was all coming back to her, not a dream but a memory. She was in the right place. Matron was a nun, hard-faced and hard of heart. The other nuns went in fear of her as much as the children in the orphanage did. Her mother wasn’t housed in the hospice. Few were. Matron believed that illness was sent by God to punish the guilty. Repentance could be won only by prayer and suffering.
Tears dripped slowly down Kate’s cheeks as she made her way from the main entrance toward the door that had led to a new life for her. It wasn’t the same. Gas sconces were set in the walls where she remembered candles. She’d forgotten about the pervasive scent of incense. Is that why she loved the fresh scents of the Highlands?
She passed the hospice and came to the section where the cells were located, a series of small rooms to house the seriously disturbed. The doors were all open. She entered the first and saw a nun helping a patient to drink from a glass. The nun’s words were soft and soothing but inaudible to Kate.
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