A Convenient Bride (41 page)

Rolling her eyes skyward, she listened to the rain click against the window glass. “It’s still raining out,” Brenna said, after a moment. “Must you go?”

He nodded. “Every moment they’re free puts more women in danger.” He came to Brenna and kissed her. He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. “I love you, Brenna.”

Her mouth dropped open. With a grin, he left her.

Brenna slumped back on the bed, her heart beating at a rapid pace. Her shock was genuine. He’d given her no hint of his feelings. Now he spoke of love?

“When did he come to this conclusion?” she muttered. It was not a declaration with poetry and candlelight, or during a romantic walk around the lake. But theirs was no ordinary relationship. The three words were heartfelt and wonderful. That was what mattered.

James looked up. She smiled down at him. “Your father loves me, yes he does.” She caressed his soft cheek. “Is that not an interesting turn? He swore he’d never love again.”

James kicked his feet and squealed. She laughed. “You are such a silly boy.” She came to her knees at his feet. She pressed her lips to one foot and blew. The funny sound and tickle caused him to squeak. They played for a time before Agnes came to help her dress. Nanny followed a few minutes later.

“The men have gone out?” Nanny asked. She took James.

“They have.” Brenna went to the window. With rain on the glass, the outside world was a blur. She leaned her forehead on the pane and prayed for Richard’s safe return.

He loved her. She could not lose him to a killer.

A
ndrew was at the breakfast table when Brenna went downstairs. She was relieved that a night’s rest was beneficial to his health. He seemed fit as he and Anne chatted over their meal. After filling her plate, she took a place next to them at the table.

“Your headache is gone?” Brenna asked, and received a nod.

“Thankfully so.” Andrew rubbed his temple and winced. “I suppose I deserved a whack for marrying his sister without permission.”

“I am just pleased that Richard accepted the marriage and that you both are back at Beckwith Hall,” Brenna said. “Richard missed you.”

“I missed him, too,” Anne said. She took a bite of eggs. “Though sometimes he can be as angry as a feral cat.”

“Yes, he certainly can.” Brenna thought of how different he was since they first met. He was not as stoic and laughed more often. “He was unhappy for a very long time.”

“He was,” Anne agreed. “You and James brought hope and happiness back into his life. For that, I’ll always be grateful.”

A sober cast hung over the household as Brenna finished her meal and went to check on James. The staff was quiet while they worked. Everyone was on edge over the hunt for the killers.

The manor was protected with armed guards posted everywhere. Brenna hated that her home felt like a prison. The only positive was that James, and the rest of the family and staff, were safe.

“What do you have planned for the day?” Lucy asked, when they met in the hallway outside Brenna’s bedroom.

“Other than fretting over my husband being in danger and chewing my nails to the quick?” Brenna said. “Nothing.”

Lucy made a face. “We could write letters. I have not written Miss Eva in almost two weeks.” She covertly glanced around them, as if looking for onlookers, then pulled something from behind her back. “Or we could take this map into your room and try to figure out where our killers may be hiding.”

Brenna’s eyes widened. She snatched the map out of Lucy’s hand. “Where did you get this?”

Taking Brenna’s hand, Lucy pulled her into Brenna’s former bedroom. “Remember back when we first came here and His Lordship mentioned that had Andrew not been missing, he’d find you a map to the hall so that you would not get lost?”

“I do remember,” Brenna said.

“Well, I asked Andrew if he had one for the park. He did. The man apparently has an interest in maps. Ask him about a place anywhere in England, and he’ll probably have a map to show you.”

“This is wonderful,” Brenna exclaimed, then lowered her voice when Nanny shushed them from the other bedroom.

Brenna dragged Lucy to the bed. They spread the map out on the coverlet and knelt for a better view.

Though somewhat simplistic in its drawings, it showed many of the houses and landmarks she recognized from her explorations. “I know some of these places. This is Beckwith Hall.” She ran her fingertip over the map. “This is the abbey, and this, I believe, is the Cookson cottage.”

She lifted her eyes to Lucy, awed. “You are brilliant.”

“I like to think so,” Lucy said, and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “Now where would our killers hide?”

Finding a few familiar markings was easy. Figuring out the other notations proved daunting. There were smaller buildings Brenna took to be cottages or perhaps stables or
dower houses. Branching out from Beckwith Hall, the properties nearby were also marked with the same careful detail. Too much detail. It soon became clear that they needed an expert to untangle the intricacies of the map.

Excitement prickled through Brenna. “Please fetch Andrew. We will meet him in the library.”

Ten minutes later, the three were hunched over the map, spread out on the desk. To her surprise, she discovered that Andrew not only had the map in his collection but also had drawn it himself.

“So you know what each of these buildings are?” she asked. She was nearly giddy. And Brenna was rarely giddy.

“I do,” he replied. He pulled a pair of spectacles from his pocket and slid them on. “What exactly are you looking for, My Lady?”

“We want to see if the men have missed any hiding places during their search. Since many of the properties in the park are vast, there may be small outbuildings hidden from the road or tucked into wooded areas that are unseen unless someone knows where to look. And there is no time to press the neighbors for details of their properties.”

Andrew lifted his attention from the map. “What an excellent idea,” he said, his eyes bright. “Hand me the pen and ink, and I will write what each of these markings are. We will give it to His Lordship, and they can do a more detailed search.”

“Won’t it ruin the map?” Lucy said.

He shook his head. “I have several other copies.”

The steward took the pen and ink from Lucy and went to work. The two women watched, fascinated, by his vast knowledge of the park. “How do you know all of this?” Brenna asked, her curiosity overcoming her desire to see the task completed.

“The property owners allowed me to walk their properties to find the correct positioning for each building, pond, stream, and whatever else I wanted to include. It truly is very accurate.”

Brenna wanted to hug him but thought better of it. She did not want to startle the poor man.

After an hour, he lifted his head and grinned. “Done.”

The two women clapped happily. “Now we must wait for His Lordship to return.”

They did not have to wait long for someone’s return. When Brenna heard boot steps in the foyer, she hurried out to find that it was Jace and not Richard who’d arrived.

“Where is Richard?” She tried to keep her voice calm.

“He is with Freemont at Tarleton House. The family has gone for the season, and the manor is being searched.” Jace slapped dirt off his breeches. “I returned for a fresh horse. Mine picked up a stone. I came inside because I thought you’d want to know that your husband is safe.”

Brenna stepped close and pressed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you. I was worried.”

Andrew stepped forward. He held out the map and explained what they’d done. Jace looked impressed. “It has everything marked, down to the smallest hut.”

Jace rolled up the map and tapped it on his open palm. “This will be of great help.” He tipped his hat to the steward. “I should get back.”

“Be careful,” Brenna urged. Jace had become a good friend. She’d hate to see him injured. Or worse.

“I will.” Then he was gone.

Brenna stood for a moment in indecision. She hated waiting. Her adventurous nature felt trapped within these walls. There had to be some way for her to assist.

A thought took root. She turned to Lucy. “I need your help. Quickly!”

T
arleton House was empty but for a few worried servants. They allowed the search, even as they assured Richard that they’d kept the doors locked, as a precaution after the murder.

As expected, there was nothing to indicate anything untoward. Richard suspected that the Runners were unwittingly playing a game with the killers. The men were moving from place to place to keep ahead of the two dozen or so investigators and Jace’s men. Since the huntsman’s account, they’d vanished.

“I fear their desperation may drive them to kidnap someone in order to get away,” Richard said. “I’d hate to see more innocents harmed.”

“We would need a hundred men to completely cover the park. We have just enough to keep George and Clive from taking the roads out on horseback and to scatter the rest around,” Mister Freemont said.

“If we do not catch them soon, they will find a way to escape our net,” Richard agreed. He stared up at the façade of Tarleton House. “What are we missing?”

Jace rode up to join them. He dismounted and walked over. He unrolled and held out the map. “Your Andrew is a brilliant man. I’d marry him myself if he were free,” Jace jested, and waved over several Runners. Once they were gathered, he ran his finger over the map, explaining what they were seeing. “This map covers the park in precise detail. If we go in groups of two, each pair can cover a property. It will be more efficient than guessing where the killers will go next.”

All, including Richard, were impressed. “I knew Andrew had some unusual interests. I never thought one would be beneficial to crime investigation.”

Mister Freemont went in search of the Runners still wandering the property. Within the hour, the Runners agreed to the plan, took torn pieces of the map, and rode out.

Richard, Jace, and Mister Freemont collected their horses. “Fire a shot if you find the men,” Jace said.

The sound of racing hoof beats drew their attention. To Richard’s surprise, Brenna, trailed by Lucy, rode up the drive as if the devil himself were on their tail.

Brenna drew Brontes to a skidding stop. Her hat slid forward on her forehead. She pushed it back.

“Brenna. What are you doing here?” He stepped forward and gripped Brontes’s bridle. He did not wait for her answer. “Return to the hall immediately.”

Her face tightened. “I will not. We are here to help.”

Aware that they were the focus of every pair of eyes, he led the horse away from the rest of the party.

“It is too dangerous for you to be out here. Go home to James. He needs you more than we do.”

“He is with Nanny and Mrs. Beal,” Brenna said, through her closed teeth. She leaned down in the saddle and lifted her skirt. She had a small pistol tucked into her garter. “I am armed and capable of using this. Now, are we going to argue
over my stubborn nature and lack of sense, or are we going to hunt for the murderers?”

A war waged inside him, and his head began to pound. He wanted to spin the mare around and send them back to Beckwith Hall, and he wanted to kiss her breathless. She was his fierce warrior wife, the Brenna who faced danger without flinching.

The second won out. He pulled her face down to his and kissed her soundly. She smiled beneath his mouth.

“What am I to do with you?” he said, breaking the kiss.

“Love me forever?”

His eyes rolled up, and he expelled a harsh breath. “That I will. Lord help me.” To the sound of her soft laughter, he released the mare and walked over to gather his horse.

“Freemont and Lucy will take the Cottswood property, and Brenna, Jace, and I will take the Livingston land.” Jace tore the map and handed Freemont his piece. “Fire a shot if you find anything,” Richard added. “And be safe.”

T
he Livingstons were in residence when the trio rode up. Mister Livingston agreed to the search and sent a pair of footmen to assist. It took two hours to cover the property, and they found no clues to George and Clive Everhart.

“They are as slippery as fish,” Brenna grumbled, as they traveled back to the road. “How can they hide so well?”

“It is a large park,” Richard said. “We believe they are on foot. That makes it easier for them to hide.”

“And you are certain they have not fled the area? Clive’s uncle could have spirited them away,” Brenna pressed. “They could be on a ship to the Americas.”

Richard stopped in the road. He pulled off his hat and scratched his head. “We are not certain of anything.”

“What a dismal situation,” Brenna said. “I still cannot believe George is a murderer. I’ve met some very devious and calculating men in my life, and he showed no signs of a black heart.”

“We were all fooled.” Richard replaced his hat. “He lived at the hall. His sister lived there. We were all blind to the truth of his nature.”

Deep in her heart, Brenna wanted to believe this was a mistake, not for George but for her. She despaired to think her instincts were so flawed.