Marrying the Marquis (26 page)

“I dinna want to leave my father alone tonight.”

“The spying produced no clues?”

Alexander Blake shifted his gaze from the passing scenery to Constable Black. “Spying only produced trouble between Raven and me.”

“You’ll settle your differences,” the constable said, “and we’ll dance at your wedding.”

“I can’t settle our differences,” Alexander replied, “if I don’t know what they are.”

“Raven will tell you when she’s ready.”

“I made Crazy Eddie a child minder,” Alexander said, smiling. “You should have seen the look on his face.”

Constable Black chuckled, a sound few people heard. “That could prove dangerous to our witness.”

“Inverary is protecting the boy,” Alexander said. “Eddie escorts Jack around town during the day trying to find the man who drugged Blaze.”

“The gossip about Inverary’s daughter jockeying a thoroughbred reached London,” Constable Black said. “I gather she’s safely married and settled now?”

“Blaze is married,” Alexander said, “but the jury hasn’t decided on settled yet.”

Their coach halted in Inverary House courtyard. The two climbed down and headed for the front door.

“Good afternoon, my lord,” Tinker greeted them. “Good to see you again, Constable Black.”

“His Grace is expecting us,” Alexander said.

“The MacArthurs have already arrived.”

“Thank you, Tinker. We know the way.”

The Duke of Inverary was sitting behind his desk. Four leather chairs had been positioned in a semi-circle around the front of the desk.

After the introductions, the four sat in the leather chairs. The Duke of Inverary poured a measure of whisky into five tumblers, and they were ready to discuss the problem.

“Nothing we say leaves this room,” Constable Black said, glancing at each man in turn. “Whatever we plan must be kept secret.”

“We discussed possible suspects,” Alexander spoke up. “Obviously, the guilty party would benefit financially by rigging the Triple Crown.”

“The Duke of Inverary would benefit,” Constable Black said, “but His Grace would not hire a ruffian to murder his own jockey.”

“The Marquis of Awe would benefit,” Alexander said, “but Ross would not poison his own horse.”

“A horse need not win the Triple Crown to make good money,” the Duke of Inverary said. “A thoroughbred can make a fortune from stud service. A horse that showed or placed in the Classic Races can make almost as much money as the Big Three winner.”

“That’s true,” Ross MacArthur agreed. “On any given day, a number of factors can interfere with the best horse not winnin’ the race.”

“The constable decided the villain need not be a horse owner,” Alexander said. “He could be a gambler.”

“Or he could be a she.” Ross sipped his whisky while the others chuckled at his statement. He held the tumbler up and looked at his father-in-law. “Speyside?”

The Duke of Inverary nodded. “Thor will be targeted because of his Derby win.”

“We must protect Thor,” the Duke of Kilchurn said, “but we must also catch the murderer. Killin’ a horse is one thin’, but killin’ a jockey is another.”

“Catchin’ him will be easy if we know which night he plans to move,” Ross said.

“Good thinking, my lord.” Constable Black lifted his whisky glass to toast the marquis. “We’ll force him into action on the night of our choosing.”

“How do ye propose to do that?” the Duke of Kilchurn asked.

“We need to catch him in the act,” the Duke of Inverary added. “If not, we can only prove trespassing.”

“Any ideas?” the constable asked.

“We’ll place a loose, visible line of guards around the Inverary estate,” Alexander said. “The villain will see the guards and postpone action. The night before the 2000 Guineas Race, we’ll remove a few guards. They’ll be waiting inside Thor’s stable.”

“Why dinna we do that tonight?” Ross asked.

Constable Black looked at Alexander. “Well?”

“If we do it tonight, he’ll be warned if something goes wrong,” Alexander said. “Waiting for the night before the race means he’ll be desperate, and desperate men make mistakes.”

“Did ye compare those lists?” Ross asked.

“What lists are those?” the Duke of Inverary asked.

“I listed anyone who had access to Hercules,” the Duke of Kilchurn said.

“Raven slipped me the guests lists from the Jockey Club Ball and the wedding,” Alexander said. “She’s convinced the murderer attended those events.”

“If you still have the glass used to drug your daughter,” Constable Black said, turning to Inverary, “I would like Raven to do another reading.”

“My aunt Bedelia is visiting,” the duke said. “If she does the reading, we may learn something different.”

Constable Black nodded. “We’ll ask your aunt to read the jockey’s ring, too.”

“Tinker,” the duke called.

The door opened instantly, and the majordomo appeared. “I was walking down the hallway—”

“Fetch Aunt Bedelia,” the duke said, “and do not repeat anything you heard.”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

Several doors down the hallway from the duke’s office, Aunt Bedelia and Raven sat together in the drawing room. On the wall near them was Gabrielle Flambeau’s portrait.

“I thank a merciful God,” Aunt Bedelia said, “the duchess is visiting Lady Althorpe.”

Raven smiled at the old woman. Her stepmother was definitely an acquired taste.

“Yer mother was exquisitely beautiful,” Bedelia said. “I can see the reason Magnus gave her his heart. Too bad they werena able to marry.”

“Did Papa truly love her?” Raven asked. “Or was she a lovely convenience?”

“Magnus has never stopped lovin’ Gabrielle,” Bedelia said, patting her hand. “I always believed yer father’s first marriage was a mistake, his third marriage is pleasant companionship, and yer mother was the wife of his heart. I’m hopin’ they find peace together in the afterlife.”

Raven fell silent. Her aunt’s words heartened her. All children wanted their parents to love each other. Raven wondered if Alex and she would ever share that grand love. His behavior at the wedding cast a shadow over that possibility.

“Lady Bedelia,” Tinker called, hurrying into the room. “His Grace—”

“Tell my nephew I will be there directly.”

“Yes, my lady.” Chuckling, Tinker left the drawing room.

“The gentlemen want a readin’,” Bedelia said, rising from the settee. “Are you comin’ along?”

Raven smiled. “I would never miss an opportunity to torment Alexander.”

Arm in arm, Aunt Bedelia and Raven walked down the hallway. Raven tapped on the office door and then opened it without waiting for permission. She followed her aunt inside, her gaze slamming into Alexander’s.

“Hello, Brat.” Giving her a warm smile, Alexander crossed the office.

“Hello, Alex.” Her smile was more polite than warm.

“I stopped by yesterday,” he said, “but you weren’t home.”

“Prince Lykos escorted me and my sisters to Newmarket.” His dismayed expression heartened Raven.

“I would have taken you if you’d sent me a note.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” she told him. “I know you’re busy with the investigation and other things.”

“I would have taken time out of my schedule,” he said.

“I’ll consider your offer next time.”

Alexander gave Bedelia his attention. “Come and sit in front of the desk,” he said, taking her arm.

Bedelia glanced at his hand on her arm. “I’m old, not crippled.”

Raven giggled, and the men chuckled. Even Alexander smiled.

Bedelia sat in a leather chair in front of her nephew’s desk and lifted someone’s tumbler of whisky. She sipped the amber liquid.

“Speyside whisky.” Bedelia looked at her nephew. “Give me Highland whisky, and dinna bother with a glass.”

The duke opened a bottle and passed it to her. Bedelia sipped the whisky and then nodded. “That’s better.”

“Aunt Bedelia, I want you to meet Constable Amadeus Black and, of course, you’ve met Alexander Blake, Raven’s young man.”

Bedelia looked at the constable. “Ye must come to dinner on Saturday.”

Amadeus Black smiled. “Is there a particular reason?”

“Yer sharp for an Englishman,” Bedelia said. “Trust me, constable. You shouldna miss Saturday.” She flicked a glance at Alexander, adding, “Bring the boy with ye, too.”

Raven could not contain her laughter, earning an irritated look from the boy. She had a feeling Alexander was no match for Bedelia, and she would do well to watch her aunt’s strategy.

“Magnus, everyone in this room must attend our dinner on Saturday,” Bedelia said. “Roxie and Celeste must come, too.”

“That’s easy to arrange, Aunt.”

“May I call you Bedelia?” Constable Black asked her. When she inclined her silver head, he said, “I would appreciate—”

“Give me the ring first,” Bedelia said.

Constable Black, Alexander Blake, and Ross MacArthur dropped their mouths open in surprise. The Dukes of Inverary and Kilchurn smiled, as did Raven.

Bedelia was dazzling the gentlemen, which made them take her seriously. Raven tucked that idea away for future use.

“Do you need privacy?” the constable was asking her aunt.

“No.” Bedelia held her hand out, and Constable Black passed her the boar’s head ring.

Holding the ring in the palm of her left hand, Bedelia covered it with her right hand. “I see a night sky with hundreds of glittering stars and a perfect crescent moon. A MacArthur plaid is draped across the moon, and a dirk rests on top of the plaid.”

“Did you tell her?”

Raven looked at Alexander. “I beg your pardon?”

“You told your aunt what you saw,” Alexander accused her.

“Not everyone is a cheat like you.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Raven gave him an ambiguous smile. “Ask my aunt for a reading.”

Bedelia sipped the Highland whisky. “Young man, there’s more in this world than yer logic can explain.” She looked at the constable. “Give me the glass.”

Bedelia held the glass in her left hand and covered it with her right. “I see a candle with a prominent wick which becomes a man handin’ this glass to a scrawny boy.”

“Can you describe the man?” Constable Black asked her.

“The man is blond, his face a candlewick.” Setting the glass on the desk, Bedelia rose from the chair and glanced at each man in turn. “Do not forget Saturday dinner, or ye’ll regret it. Raven, take the whisky.”

She missed him.

Dressed for dinner, Blaze crossed her bedchamber to inspect her reflection in the cheval mirror. She looked at herself without really seeing, her thoughts on her husband.

Aunt Bedelia had promised she would sleep beside her husband that night. Ross had professed his love, and she could hardly wait to begin the rest of their lives together.

Even the prospect of seeing her stepmother-in-law could not dampen her mood. Besides, Aunt Bedelia had promised Celeste MacArthur would never bother her again. She didn’t know how that was possible, but she had faith in her great-aunt.

“Enter,” she called, hearing a knock on the door.

Raven walked into the bedchamber. “Aunt Bedelia wants to see us privately before dinner.”

“Does my belly look bigger?” Blaze asked, turning sideways.

“No.” Raven rolled her eyes and turned away, saying, “Aunt Bedelia is waiting for us.”

Dressed for dinner guests, Aunt Bedelia sat on the chaise in front of the hearth in her bedchamber. Puddles snoozed at her feet, Sugar cuddled in her lap, and a large reticule lay beside her on the chaise.

“We make our move tonight,” Bedelia told them.

“What move is that?” Blaze asked, glancing at her sister.

“We’re goin’ to catch a murderer,” Bedelia said. “All ye need to do is follow my instructions.”

“Isn’t that the constable’s job?” Raven asked her.

“The gentlemen willna catch the villain,” Aunt Bedelia answered. “I saw the resolution in my vision.”

“Which vision was that?” Blaze asked her.

“The vision sent me to Kilchurn House to accompany ye to England,” Bedelia said. “The villain is comin’ tonight because he knows stablehands drink on Saturday nights. The gents are plannin’ to catch him the night before the race.”

“Why don’t we tell the constable?” Raven asked her.

“They willna believe an old lady,” Bedelia answered. “If they guard the stables, the villain willna move. We need to catch him, not merely prevent him from harmin’ Thor.”

Blaze placed a hand over her belly. “Was anyone hurt in your vision?”

“Follow my instructions and all will be well,” Bedelia assured her. “Sneak into Thor’s stable. Bring Puddles, Sugar, and Beau with ye.”

“Beau is housed in Thor’s stable,” Blaze said.

“Let Beau out of his stall,” Bedelia instructed her. “Let yer animals wander wherever they want inside the stable.”

“What should I do?” Raven asked her.

“Yer wearin’ the star ruby,” Bedelia said. “Stand near a window openin’ so ye can see the ring in the moonlight. When the ruby darkens, the villain is near, and signal Blaze.”

“What do we do when the murderer enters the stable?” Blaze asked.

Bedelia passed her the reticule. “Use my pistol.”

“Pistol?” Blaze exclaimed. “I don’t know how to use a pistol.”

“Ye take the pistol out of the reticule and point it at the intruder,” Bedelia told her.

“How do I fire it?”

“Let me show ye.” Bedelia removed the pistol from the reticule and chuckled when the sisters backed away. “Hold it like this”—she demonstrated—“and put yer finger on the trigger here.”

“And then I pull the trigger?”

“Dinna pull the trigger,” Bedelia ordered. “The pistol isna loaded.”

“What good is an unloaded pistol?” Raven asked her.

“We want to frighten, not kill him,” Bedelia said. “I’ll send yer men to the rescue at the appropriate moment.”

“How do you know the appropriate moment?” Raven asked. “If you make a mistake—”

“I know”—Bedelia interrupted—“because I know.”

Blaze laughed at that. Raven smiled and nodded at her aunt.

“Here’s the reticule and Sugar,” Bedelia said. “Take the servants’ stairs. Ye willna need to wait long.”

“How will you excuse our absence from dinner?” Blaze asked.

“I’ll tell them the truth,” Bedelia answered. “Yer doin’ somethin’ for me, and they’ll see ye soon.”

Blaze and Raven hurried down the hallway to the rear stairs, the mastiff following behind. Reaching ground level, they met the majordomo.

“You never saw us,” Blaze said.

Tinker smiled. “I haven’t seen you all day.”

The sisters scooted out the garden door. Dusk had fallen and was rapidly fading into night. One by one, the stars appeared in the night sky like torches being lit. The full moon had risen in the east, beginning its journey westward.

“Are you frightened?” Raven asked, walking down the dark path to the stables.

“There’s nothing to fear,” Blaze answered. “An unloaded pistol and a slobbering mastiff are protecting us.”

Raven giggled. “Do not forget a deaf kitten and a donkey.”

“I doubt the villain will be carrying a weapon,” Blaze said. “He poisoned Hercules and will probably try the same on Thor.”

The stableyard was deserted. Men’s voices and laughter wafted through the yard.

“Bedelia was correct,” Blaze whispered. “The stablehands are drinking.”

“Papa will have their heads if we can’t save Thor.”

Raven opened the stable’s door. Blaze slipped inside, followed by Puddles, and then the door closed behind them.

Blaze smelled the familiar scents of musky horses and hay. She heard the familiar sounds of horseshoes clomping on the floorboards and snorting horses. The darkness felt unfamiliar, almost expectant.

“Stand by the window opening in the stall opposite Thor’s,” Blaze said, releasing the donkey from his stall. “When I level the pistol, you light the torch.” Then she set Sugar on the floor.

The sisters stood together in the stall. Raven fixed her gaze on the star ruby ring, and Blaze removed the pistol from her aunt’s reticule.

Blaze watched Beau meander from the rear of the stable to the front and then meander back toward the rear. Puddles had disappeared into an empty stall, probably relaxing on top of a bale of hay. Sugar dug her claws into the wood beam and inched her way up to the loft.

Feeling her sister’s touch on her arm, Blaze knew the moment had arrived. She heard the creak of the door opening and broke into a sweat. The sound of boots on the floorboards came closer and closer.

Blaze saw a dark figure stop at Thor’s stall. She stepped forward on silent feet.

“Put your hands in the air,” Blaze ordered, leveling the pistol on the figure.

Raven lit the torch and gasped. “Chadwick Simmons?”

The squire smiled and stepped toward them.

“Don’t move,” Blaze ordered, cocking the trigger, “or your head and your body will part company.”

The squire stopped in an instant.

“The wick man,” Raven murmured. “Chad
wick
Simmons.”

“I was attending your parents’ dinner,” Chadwick said, smiling. “Your father asked me to check on Thor’s safety.”

Blaze flicked a glance at his hands. “Are you holding carrots?”

“I thought Thor deserved a treat.”

“How kind of you. Eat one.”

The squire lost his smile. “I beg your pardon?”

“Eat a carrot.”

And then the sound of men’s voices in the stableyard distracted Blaze. Chadwick tossed the carrots, grabbing her pistol and her.

The stable door crashed open. Ross rushed inside, followed by Alexander and the constable. All three stopped short.

“Stay where you are,” Chadwick said, pointing the pistol at her head, “or I’ll kill her.”

“The pistol’s not loaded,” Raven shouted.

Chadwick threw the pistol at Ross and grabbed Blaze’s neck. “Take a step and I’ll snap it.”

And then pandemonium erupted.

Sugar leaped off the loft onto the squire’s shoulder, digging her claws into him. Chadwick screamed and lost his grip on Blaze.

Beau emerged from a stall behind the squire and kicked him, sending him flying toward the men. Before Ross could grab him, Puddles attacked, his enormous mastiff’s mouth attached to the squire’s leg.

“Puddles, let go,” Ross ordered. The dog released the squire and ran to Blaze’s side.

Ross and Alexander rolled the squire onto his stomach. Grabbing a rope, Constable Black tied his hands behind his back.

“Are ye all right?” Ross asked Blaze.

“Yes.”

“Are you all right?” Alexander asked Raven.

“Yes.”

“Take the squire to the house,” Constable Black told them. “We’ll send a footman to fetch the local authorities.”

Without another word, Ross and Alexander dragged Chadwick out of the stable. Blaze put Beau into his stall and lifted Sugar into her arms.

“Raven, grab those tainted carrots,” Blaze said. “Come, Puddles.”

Cookie?

Cookie for Puddles
.

Blaze and Raven followed the men down the path to the mansion. “Look at them,” Blaze said. “You’d think they caught the culprit instead of us.”

Raven nodded. “And they don’t seem too concerned about our health.”

Blaze and Raven entered the house through the rear door and climbed the servants’ stairs. The sisters could hear the Duchess of Kilchurn before they reached the second-floor drawing room.

“My son would never murder anyone or hurt an animal,” Celeste MacArthur was insisting.

Blaze and Raven paused in the drawing room’s doorway. Their sisters were there as well as Dirk and Amanda Stanley and Mairi MacArthur.

“Do you think all the Stanleys are involved?” Blaze whispered.

“No.”

“How do you—?” Catching her sister’s look, Blaze shut her mouth.

“I cannot believe Chad is involved,” Dirk Stanley defended his brother, his sister nodding in agreement.

Chadwick Simmons looked at the Duchess of Kilchurn. “Tell them, Mother.”

“What do you mean?” Celeste asked.

“I’ll not hang alone,” Chadwick told her, and looked at the constable. “I did my mother’s bidding.”

“That’s a lie,” Celeste exclaimed. “Unnatural son—”

“You’re the unnatural one, Mother.” Chadwick looked at Dirk. “I should have held the title since I was the earl’s oldest son.”

“Stop lying,” Celeste cried.

“While she was married to Simmons, Mother engaged in an affair with the Earl of Boston,” Chadwick told his siblings. “I am a product of that union as are you. She poisoned Simmons and married the earl.

“That wasn’t enough for her, though. She wanted to be a duchess. Mother dispatched our father”—Chadwick looked at the Duke of Kilchurn—“and arranged an accident for your wife.”

“That’s a lie,” Celeste screamed. “James, he’s lying.”

When Ross took a step toward her, the Duke of Kilchurn put his arm in front of his son. “Let it play out.”

“Mother wanted you to marry Amanda so she could live in luxury when your father passed,” Chadwick told Ross. “Your first wife stood in her way and sickened when my mother visited the Highlands that October.”

“What did Celeste gain by murdering a jockey and poisoning my son’s horse?” the Duke of Kilchurn asked.

“Mother did that for Dirk,” Chadwick answered, looking at his brother. “You could never measure up when compared to Ross. She considered you a loser and wanted you to best Ross one time.”

Tinker interrupted, escorting the local authorities into the drawing room. Constable Black forced Celeste off the sofa and tied her hands behind her back.

“These two are facing charges for multiple murders,” the constable said. “We may need to transport them to London.”

“James, I’m your wife,” Celeste shrieked.

The Duke of Kilchurn turned his back on her.

Constable Black looked at Alexander, who said, “I’ll follow you in a few minutes.”

Blaze could not believe how many lives had been ruined by the witch’s malicious greed. Dirk Stanley was white with shock. Amanda Stanley was weeping while Mairi MacArthur tried to comfort her. Ross had lost his mother and Kyra’s mother. The Duke of Kilchurn had lost a beloved wife.

“Amanda, ye arena responsible for yer mother,” the Duke of Kilchurn said. “I consider ye my own and want ye to live with us.”

“I’ll take Amanda home with me,” Dirk Stanley said. “My sister can decide what she wants in a few days.”

“Dirk, ye suffered a bad shock, too,” Ross said, surprising Blaze, “and I dinna think ye should be alone. Pass the night at MacArthur House.”

Dirk Stanley looked surprised by the offer. “I don’t want to impose on your own sorrow. After all, my mother caused—”

“Family isna an imposition,” Ross said, “and we consider ye our family. Mairi, take them home now.”

“Someone send for my hartshorn,” the Duchess of Inverary said, fanning herself.

Aunt Bedelia passed her the whisky. “Take a swig.”

Surprising everyone, the Duchess of Inverary gulped whisky out of the bottle. And then she took another swig.

The Duke of Inverary put his arm around his friend’s shoulder. “Come with me, Jamie,” he said, ushering his friend out of the room. “We’ll sit in my office and share a drink or two.”

“If the candle was Chadwick,” Raven asked her aunt, “where did Celeste fit?”

“Ye canna take visions at face value,” Bedelia answered. “Ye need to ponder the meaning of the symbols. What’s another word for heavenly?”

“Celestial.”

Blaze crossed the drawing room to her husband’s side. “I’m sorry about your mother and your wife.”

Ross put his arms around her, holding her close. He dropped a kiss on the crown of her head. “Ye gave me a fright when I saw that pistol pointed at yer head.”

Alexander advanced on Raven. “I want to know the reason you’ve been cold to me.”

“I saw you kissing Amanda Stanley at my sister’s wedding,” she told him.

“I wasn’t kissing Amanda Stanley,” Alexander said. “She was kissing me.”

“Oops,” Blaze whispered to her husband. “He should have apologized and begged for forgiveness.”

Raven narrowed her gaze on him. She held her left hand out and pulled the betrothal ring off her finger.

“Don’t do this,” Alexander warned her. “You’ll regret it.”

Raven looked from the ring to his face and the ring again. She caught her stepmother’s horrified expression.

Then Raven slipped the betrothal ring onto the third finger of her right hand. She lifted her nose into the air and walked out of the drawing room.

“What does that mean?” Alexander followed her out of the room. “Are we betrothed or not?”