The Duke's Legacy (26 page)

“But there was no time for them to produce more children.” Tears spilled down Abbey’s face as she spoke.

“Carstairs had already sired one son,” Sebastian said, fixing Wilsden with a harsh look. “Lady Abigail’s brother did not die of natural causes, did he? That was the missing part of the puzzle that so eluded me but which fell into place as soon as I saw you walk in here today.”

Wilsden inclined his head, seemingly proud of his evil activities. “Exactly so.”

“You!” Abbey gasped, her voice shaking with emotion. “You killed my brother? I thought he and my sister both died of natural causes.”

“Your sister did,” Sebastian said with a sympathetic smile. “That supplied Wilsden with the inspiration to do away with your brother, whom he couldn’t permit to flourish. It is not uncommon for siblings to perish from the same malady and so no one suspected him for a moment.”

Abbey buried her head on Sebastian’s shoulder and fought to contain her sobs. She absolutely did not wish to show any emotion in front of her wicked godfather but, by heaven, it was difficult!

“Your determination to be a leading force in the Carlton House set was all part of the plan, presumably,” Sebastian said.

“My loyalty to His Royal Highness has never been in question,” Lord Wilsden replied pompously. “But it didn’t hurt to be seen by him, to be in his company and take every opportunity to remind him I was making a good job of my stewardship.”

“Is all this really worth committing murder for?” Sebastian asked, yawning.

‘Thank you for reminding me. Have you ever noticed,” he asked, turning to address Mary, “how often accidents of a similar nature occur within the same family? It is really quite remarkable. What consternation will reign when Abbey and Denver have the misfortune to overturn their curricle in this unpredictable weather, perishing in the process. You know how ignorant and superstitious people can be. They will say that the Carstairs family is truly cursed.”

“You really are out of your senses, Wilsden,” Sebastian said, hiding a yawn behind his hand. “Only an utter clunch would expect us to willingly enter a conveyance, knowing you’ve tampered with it in some way, and calmly driver ourselves to our graves?’

“You are being very insensitive, my lord,” Abbey said, her tears replaced by calm determination to show this man that she wasn’t quite the wilting violet he seemed to suppose. “My godfather has gone to considerable trouble to devise a fitting end for us both and all you can do is mock.” She shook a finger at him. “Shame on you, sir!”

“I accept your rebuke, but my opinion remains unchanged. Your godfather hasn’t thought about the consequences.”

“It will work well enough,” Lord Wilsden said, sounding a little less than sure of himself.

“We’ll do our best to oblige you,” Sebastian assured him, winking at Abbey.

Lord Wilsden appeared shaken by his sudden mood of co-operation. “Well of course you will. What alternative do you really have? I expect you think you will manage not to turn the curricle over, but I’m afraid an accident is inevitable.” He rummaged in the folds of his cloak and withdrew a pistol.

Sebastian laughed in his face. “You can’t possibly shoot us both and expect to get away with it.”

“Why not? A lover’s tryst gone wrong. It is all over the house you intended to bring Abbey here with the purpose of persuading her to elope with you. Everyone was most disapproving. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if Evans turns up any minute now and saves me the trouble of finishing you off by doing the job himself.”

“And saving Lady Abigail?”

“Ah yes, there is that. Thank you for point it out. Perhaps I had better attend to the matter before he gets here. Now, what conclusions will be drawn when your bodies are found?” He stopped his pacing directly in front of them, his glowering features twisted with bitterness. “When Abbey remembered her duty and declined to be a-party to an elopement, you decided you would prefer to see her dead rather than lose her to another man. Of course, once you saw your lady love perish at your own hand you were overcome with remorse and decided you no longer wished to live, either.”

“I had no idea you could be so romantic, Wilsden,” Sebastian said, yawning again.

His languid attitude made Abbey want to laugh. They weren’t behaving as her godfather wished them to and she could see it was making him wary. What was less clear was Mary’s part in all this. She had barely spoken a word but still stood staunchly at Lord Wilsden’s shoulder. Hopefully, she would take her turn to explain herself.

“Yes,” Lord Wilsden said, sounding as though he wanted to convince himself as much as them. “That might work better than the uncertainties of a carriage accident, much as I preferred the poetic justice of my first scheme.”

“You surely can’t expect to get away with cold-blooded murder?” Abbey turned a scornful glance upon her godfather.

“Are you not going to beg for your life?” Mary asked vindictively.

“What, appeal to your better natures? Thank you, but no. It would be a waste of time anyway since it is obvious neither of you has a conscience.” Abbey tossed her head, enjoying herself in a perverse sort of way by showing no fear, even if she was petrified. “I expect it would give you satisfaction to see me either swooning or feinting in Lord Denver’s strong arms. Again, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I am not given to swooning. I tried it once when there was something I particularly did not wish to do. Bea saw straight through the ruse and laughed at me for being so theatrical. It quite put me off swooning for life.”

Lord Wilsden sent her a damning glance. “Why should we not get away with murder? You were foolish enough to come here, fully expecting us to follow you, but didn’t think to bring anyone else to protect Abbey. I just
knew
your arrogance would lead you to suppose you could overcome us without assistance, Denver, and I was obviously right about that. If you had a weapon you would have drawn it as soon as we approached. We examined the place carefully before entering, in case you are thinking to persuade us others witnessed our arrival and will come to your rescue. There was no conveyance in evidence, other than your own, and no fresh hoof tracks. Anyone leaving the house to follow you must have taken the same path as us, and we passed no one.”

“Then we are doomed,” Sebastian said with a casual shrug.

Lord Wilsden shared a questioning glance with Mary Bevan but she said nothing.

“If you have somehow managed to call for reinforcements, or have someone concealed outside, they aren’t close enough to be of service to you. Besides, you would not have risked sharing your suspicions with anyone else, just in case you were wrong about Charlie being behind it all and inadvertently tipped off the real culprits.” Wilsden rocked on his heels, looking reassured. “That would be us, of course.”

“Since we are clearly condemned,” Sebastian said, sounding quite off-handedly casual at the prospect of meeting his maker, “perhaps you would be good enough to satisfy our curiosity, Mrs. Bevan. We suspected your involvement from the first.”

Abbey shot Sebastian a glance. This was news to her.

“However,” Sebastian continued. “We have have been unable to decide what you hoped to gain from it.”

“Yes, that’s what we would very much like to know, as well.”

Harold stepped with his father from the adjoining room, his features contorted with suppressed fury.

Chapter Eighteen

Mary appeared rooted to the spot, too shocked to move. She blinked several times as though to dispel the image of her husband standing before her, blistering anger radiating from eyes that usually reflected no emotion stronger than compassion and understanding. She reached out to touch his coat and a strange wail escaped her lips when her fingers made contact with his person. She clutched at her throat with a claw-like hand, eyes rolling wildly from side to side, shaking her head in violent denial.

“I told you!” she yelled at Wilsden, sounding and appearing completely demented. “You’re a blind fool. I warned you we were being duped but you couldn’t bear to think someone might outsmart you any more than you could resist confronting Abbey and Denver.” Spittle dribbled in an ugly stream from the corner of her mouth and her arms thrashed in helpless frustration against her skinny frame as the fight seemed to drain out of her. “Well, we are done for now,” she added, in a voice barely above a whisper.

Wilsden looked over his shoulder, assessing the likelihood of his being able to escape. The solidly reassuring figure of Hodges blocked the doorway, with Bevan’s man in close support. Hodges held his pistol in a hand that didn’t waiver, keeping it trained directly in the centre of Wilsden’s chest.

“Give me the slightest excuse to fire,” Hodges said in an emotionless voice.

His coldly detached manner left no one in any doubt he would carry out his threat without a moment’s hesitation. Sebastian watched as Hodges disarmed Wilsden, before returning his attention to Mary Bevan, more anxious than ever to hear her explanation. Equally aware that Abbey, who had shown such remarkable courage,
needed
to understand what drove her. When she didn’t speak, Sebastian did so for her.

“You were dissatisfied with your life, I think, and ambition drove you to improve yourself by whatever means you could.”

“Dissatisfied?” Harold shook his head. “Why should she be dissatisfied? I gave her everything.”

“Precisely.” Sebastian nodded his agreement. “You attracted the love of a decent man who offered you the opportunity to make a most advantageous marriage, but that wasn’t enough for you.” Mary snorted her derision but still didn’t speak. “I’ve seen how your resentment of Lady Abigail eats away at you, fuelling your dissatisfaction.”

Mary was shocked into showing a reaction, albeit simply a raised brow and contemptuous sneer. “You think you have all the answers, but you know nothing.”

“I know more than you give me credit for,” Sebastian replied calmly. “To someone who knows what to look for, you give yourself away at unguarded moments. That’s how I first learned of your envy for Lady Abigail, which alerted my suspicions. I also detected genuine longing in your voice when I was describing my tour of Italy to you.”

“You’re quite the student of human nature,” she said sarcastically.

“Thank you.” Sebastian inclined his head, acknowledging what he knew hadn’t been intended as a compliment. “Wilsden obviously noticed your dissatisfaction as well, which is what made him approach you in the first place. He must have been aware that a female accomplice was vital to his plans. You were ideal since Lady Abigail trusted you completely, you had unlimited access to her and more opportunities to contrive her downfall, making it seem like an accident.”

“You know nothing!” Mary, her face puce with rage, shouted the words at Sebastian. “No one can understand what I’ve been forced to endure, since
she
came amongst us.” She glared at Abbey with unconcealed hatred.

“Then do us the honour of explaining yourself.” Harold’s tone was glacial as he placed himself in front of his wife. “Explain, if you can, how you could even contemplate taking the life of an innocent young girl who has already suffered so much but has never shown you anything but kindness and consideration. Make me understand, if you’re able, what wickedness could have encroached upon your soul.” He examined his wife’s defiant expression with sadness in his eyes, softening his tone before he spoke again. “Are you unwell, Mary? Have you contracted some ailment that’s caused you to take leave of your senses?”

Harold sounded as though he desperately wanted to believe he had hit upon an excuse to exonerate his wife’s behaviour. Sebastian felt for him excessively, especially when Mary’s response was to move towards her husband, her sharp features screwed into an ugly mask.

“You would never understand. You are so good, so pure of mind, always willing to put others before yourself. You couldn’t see what chaos and disruption
her
arrival caused within the family,” she raved, pointing an accusing finger at Abbey.

“But I didn’t mean to—”

Sebastian stayed Abbey with a warning touch, giving Mary further opportunity to condemn herself with her own words.

“Nothing could be done any more without first considering the impact upon Abbey’s safety. Even the smallest excursion became a major undertaking, with everyone else’s needs taking second place to hers. Did you not feel the neglect?”

“No,” Harold replied shortly. “And you were not unduly inconvenienced by the necessary precautions we took to protect Abbey, either.”

“Huh, not inconvenienced. How can you say such a thing? Nothing was ever the same again. The whole family must arrange their affairs to fall into line with hers, always putting our own concerns to one side and complying with whatever your father thought best for her. We were no longer masters of our own households because nothing was more important than the wretched duchy.” She pulled at her hair, pins tumbling to the floor like a flurry of autumn leaves. “It was ridiculous!”

“That is completely untrue,” Lord Bevan replied. “You were welcomed into this family and made to feel a part of it from the first day upon which Harold made the introduction. That your background wasn’t all that I would have wished his wife’s to be was never once mentioned, not when I saw how highly he regarded you. Your unspeakable lack of gratitude for the affection we have lavished upon you is a scandal.”

“I wondered how long it would be before my origins were mentioned,” Mary said scathingly. “It is true nothing was ever said in my hearing but one doesn’t have to hear the words to sense the overwhelming disappointment you felt when your second son didn’t make a better match.”

“Enough of this,” Harold said. “You still haven’t explained what you expected to gain from your villainous association with Wilsden, or why you should have taken so fiercely against Abbey. She is not to blame for her situation, and I fail to see why you should bear her such animosity. What does she have that you so desire?”

“Money, of course!” Mary said, staring at Harold as though he was three farthings short of a shilling.