A Lady's Vanishing Choices (16 page)

Chapter 19

The distant sound of a softly shutting door, footfalls, and the faint stirrings of the household rousing for the day pulled Bethany from a deep sleep. Tempted to cuddle down once more in the warmth of the bed, she opened her eyes and gazed at the ceiling. The smells of preparations for the early morning meal wafted to the upper levels of the house. Her stomach rumbled in answer.

Only then did the happenings of last night hit her. She sat bolt upright in the bed, glancing at the unfamiliar chamber. The walls, covered in ivory wallpaper, added light to the room where rather heavy oak furniture over-filled the space.
I’m not at the manor. I’m at the hall.

She grimaced and threw back the covers. Her heart tripped, and she drew a shaky breath.
Nearly drowning must have addled her brain. Someone wanted to kill her
.
She covered her mouth with her fingers, and her heart stroked even harder. It must be someone with access to the manor.

Someone she knew
.
Panic grabbed her, but she forced the sensation away. She must
think
.
Royce didn’t believe her—the clod
.
She straightened her fingers to avoid her nails biting into her palms.
She never wanted to witness that sarcastic smirk on his face again
.
For several minutes, she twisted a lock of her hair around her fingers.

A light scratch sounded at the door. She cleared her throat and called, “Come.”

A young maid carried a tray containing a chocolate pot and a lovely cup decorated with roses. “Morning, Ma’am. Tis a lovely day.” She smiled and placed the tray on the table beside the bed before pulling the drapes aside. “I was in here earlier, but you was dead to the world. I brought fresh clothing just as Mrs. Carrington told me. Here on the chair.” She raised her brows. “I’m here to help you with your morning toilette.”

Bethany scrambled out of bed and plucked the garments up to inspect the gown. “If you will be so kind, I shall need help with the ties.”

She allowed the maid to lace the bodice before she smoothed the skirts and adjusted the sleeves. “There. That will be all. Thank you for your assistance.” Before the maid could leave, Bethany whirled around. “Is Mrs. Carrington available this morning?”

“She’s been away. When she arrived this morning, she went straight to her chamber.

She hardly ever is below stairs until well after eleven o’clock.”

“After she stirs, I have a message I wish delivered to her.” Bethany penned a quick note and folded it. “Make certain she receives this the moment she’s about.”

The maid curtsied, took the paper with a smile, and left the chamber.

Bethany poured a cup of the hot liquid, sipping a swallow while she sank into a chair. Taking up the thread of her thoughts again, she considered her next course of action. She
must return to the manor this morning. She swallowed
. At least, I’m aware the killer is after me. I must search him out before he does away with me.
Shivering with a chill of foreboding, she set her chocolate aside. When she could identify him, she would make Royce listen to her
.
He’d believe her if she had a face to add to the tale
.
She quietly tiptoed down the back stairs and ducked out the rear door.

Royce strolled into the parlor. Lifting one brow, he observed John and Sara sipping tea. “Where is everyone?”

John placed his cup on the side table. “The men are out and about their duties.” He averted his gaze when he added, “Bethany left shortly after you did.”

“Blister it.” Royce allowed his accusing stare to land on John, then Sara. “Why didn’t you stop her?”

Sara held up her hands. “I only returned this morning, shortly before she left. Don’t expect such from me that early in the morning.”

John snapped, “On what grounds? I couldn’t detain her, after all.”

Royce shut his eyes for a second and turned away in exasperation. “Someone, or more than one person, has Bethany in their sights. For her to return to the manor and the danger there is foolish.
She should have waited. I told her I would protect her.”

In a reasonable tone, Sara proffered, “What was the poor girl to do? You could hardly offer her a home in your bachelor establishment.”

Royce ignored her statement, scowled in her direction, and continued,
“This morning I circled the grounds surrounding the lake. There is no doubt someone lurked in the protection of the woods, watching every move last night. Someone drugged Bethany, brought her to the lake, and dumped her in the water. She drank some chocolate. That was probably the source of the drug.”

John muttered, “Things are rapidly assuming alarming proportions.”

Royce glowered from under his brows, and he allowed sarcasm to color his tone. “What led you to that conclusion?”

With an answering level of sarcasm, John replied, “A small observation, old chap.”

Sara sniffed. “No sniping at each other. The servants are tittering about her being in the house without a chaperon. Something must be done to guard her reputation.”

“I doubt her uncle would allow me to offer for her even with that. I’m certain he wishes to malign her in every way possible.”

“She would be safe from her uncle and all his foul ways if John would allow me to travel to London and speak to Mother, or her true guardian, Uncle Phillip. Being with child isn’t a valid excuse to tie me by the heels.”

Royce bumped his closed fists together as he paced. “Put your mind to rest. I intend to travel to London. I’ll discover every scrap of information available about that damn chit. I told her I’d keep her safe.” He halted in his pacing and glanced at Sara. “I’ll speak to your uncle and pray nothing further happens to her before my return.”

He headed to the stables with a pounding ache in his head.

Hopkins called to Royce when he entered the stable. “Milord. I jus this minute stabled my horse.”

Royce winced. “Softly dear fellow. I really should abandon this heavy drinking habit I’ve acquired since Perry’s death.”

Hopkins frowned, but he lowered his voice. “Wallerin’ in self-pity never done a bloke no good. Ye needs a clear head for the problems looming afore ye.”

Royce smiled. “Indeed. I’m glad for your return, scolds and all.”

Hopkins grinned. “No need to throw the hammer at me. It’s happy I am to be back.” His expression sobered when he stepped toward Royce holding a package in his hand. “It be a hem set-out, truth be told.”

A hollow pit formed in Royce’s stomach. “I take it you’ve news for me.”

“You being home to a peg, no sense in me bammin’ ye. Course, or I’d still be beatin’ the bushes.”

“Give over, Hopkins.” Royce waited impatiently while his batman opened the package he held. Royce caught his breath on a gasp when he viewed Perry’s watch and fob lying in Hopkins’s palm. Stunned, he could hardly speak. He locked gazes with Hopkins and finally muttered, “Where?”

“Gregg. You remember him? He’s a lyin’ low for a spell in Bath. It bein’ a quiet, little back-water of a place, with a parcel of ‘ol biddies always maulin’ their inners with the waters, and those self-same ladies havin’ full purses, he’s interested. Well, he put me onto a bloke wot fences such items.”

A jolt of sadness pieced Royce and grief choked him when his fingers closed over the articles. The murdering dog shall pay. “Who?”

Hopkins shrugged. “He says a pretty widow lady as needs to sell her husband’s watch. Bein’ so young and lovely, he gives her more than it’s worth. I pays dearly for it.”

“You were able to trace the lovely widow, I take it?” Royce tensed in anticipation.

Hopkins stuck his hands in his pockets. “Tracked her—right to her grave. Seems she got soaked and took to her bed a dyin’ of lung fever.” Hopkins let his gaze drift back to Royce.

“By any chance, did you learn her name?”

Hopkins nodded. “Joliet Savoy.”

“What?” Royce couldn’t prevent his voice from shrilling in astonishment.

“I’m not tryin’ to gull ye. It’s wot they says.” Hopkins seemed well pleased with the extraordinary piece of news. “Thought that might set ye in a pucker.”

“Joliet Savoy,” Royce echoed. “Joliet Savoy was in league with the traitor.”

Hopkins gave a low whistle. “You mean all this time she was up to her eyebrows with traitors?”

Royce nodded. “So I understand. Too bad we can’t question her. Where did you come by this information?”

“I has me sources, Milord.” Hopkins sniffed. Before Royce could ask again, Hopkins said, “Don’t go rippin’ at me. I askt the doc’s housekeeper.”

“You did well. Tell John all you’ve told me,” Royce ordered before he explained, “I’m off to London. Things have gotten into a tangle here. First, Perry’s murder.” Fighting to keep his throat from completely closing, he continued, “Someone is attempting to harm Bethany. And there is a traitor running loose. This chaos cannot all be coincidental. But I’m in a quandary to connect Perry to all of this. And Bethany. Her uncle, I would suppose, is in league with the traitor.”

“You knows that for dead cert?” Hopkins squinted up at him.

“I have no actual proof, but he seems highly suspicious. If Bethany is involved in any way, her part ends when I return.” He would be relieved to have her under his protection as soon as possible.

“Wot hair-brained scheme ye planning?” Hopkins cast a glare at Royce.

Royce stepped further into the stable, his expression grim. “I intend to marry the lady—keep her out of trouble from now on. I lost Perry, but I have no intentions of losing her.” He shook his head and set about saddling his mount. “I’m not best pleased with the situation in which I find myself, but I’ll have her free from her uncle’s grip—and in my bed,” he finished.

Hopkins shouldered him out of the way. “That a done do, milord. Allow me,” he said with his head thrown back while he grabbed the gear into his capable hands.

Royce leaned against the stall, thinking out loud. “Perhaps Arthur didn’t murder Perry,” he conceded. “I want to go after him. I want to bring the killer down and I want the killer to be Arthur.” With that admission, he tightened his lips. “I can’t see my way clear in this yet.”

Hopkins grunted in agreement.

“Have you discovered anything about Laurent Harcourt?” Royce glanced at Hopkins.

“He had rooms at the Red Rooster Inn. No visitors. Kept to hisself mostly.”

Royce raised his brows. “No family? No mention of his sister?”

“Nary a word.”

“That’s strange. I was positive I heard mention of a sister.”

“If ye ask me, the whole business is strange. Makes no sense.”

“He still stands high in my list of suspects for a traitor.”

“Jus’ because ye don’t care for the bloke?”

Royce grinned. “Enough reason, but he’s wicked and dangerous with a blade as well.”

“But, milord.”

Royce held up his hand. “I discovered a little about him as well. When he’s in London, seems he runs with a fast set, or so I’m told—younger sons, not in the military or with any other gainful employment. Any one of ‘em could be mixed up in this dirty business.”

“He be a younger son of the gentry?”

“Not that I’m aware of, but he runs with ‘em. The entire bunch, always ripe for any mischief with no one to say them nay, they always lurk in the background of trouble. The Foreign Office has so many incompetent friends of Prinny’s fobbed off on them, it’s a wonder the country doesn’t literally collapse under the weight of such meddling.”

“I sees wot ye mean.” Hopkins squinted over at Royce. “I’ll keep me cheaters open on all suits.”

Royce grimaced and mounted his steed. “Take care of things here. I’ll only be gone a few days at best.”

The pain of Perry’s loss had settled into fierce anger and most of his fury centered on Laurent, or perhaps Arthur. Where had Laurent been when someone dumped an unconscious Bethany into the water, or for that matter, where had Arthur been? What connection could there be between Perry, Bethany, and treason, or to Laurent? The connection to Arthur Littleton was plain to see, but the connection to treason seemed remote. More questions than answers.
‘Twas unfortunate Joliet Savoy died before she could be questioned. A few subtle probes leveled at his old friends in the Horse Guards might prove
helpful.

Royce rode at a steady pace, anxious to reach London. He balled his fists and his stomach cramped at the mere thought of Bethany in danger. The sooner he could take her under his care, the better.

When he arrived in town, he tightened his lips. This may take a few days. Best to start immediately. Weary from a hellish day of seeking answers, Royce collapsed in a chair before the hearth in his London house.

Sara had the right of it about Bethany’s guardian. He couldn’t suppress a grin. He withdrew a folded sheet of paper, and with a great deal of satisfaction, read the writing down to the signature.

As the duly appointed guardian to my sister’s child, Bethany Anne Littleton by my brother-in-law, Henry Littleton, I hereby grant permission for Royce Carrington, Lord Rivton to marry my ward.

Signed, Phillip Clarke.

Leaning back in his chair, Royce could imagine Bethany sitting beside the fireplace with a volume in hand, comfortable and warm. He could picture her reading with the velvet drapes drawn against the night, a most pleasing aspect of his upcoming nuptials.

A sense of unease washed over him. He ignored the disquiet, relying on Hopkins to watch over her until he could confront Arthur Littleton and claim her as his own. With a deeply exhaled breath, he decided to find his bed. Another grueling day lay before him on the morrow.

Royce intended to travel to Bath and ask the doctor how Joliet Savoy managed to sell Perry’s possessions from the grave. Perhaps he could find a few answers. A ray of hope bloomed in his chest while he made his way up the stairs.