The Notorious Widow (26 page)

But Seabrook’s stubbornness had allowed Jasper to overhear part of these plans. Both had to be intimidated into silence.

Blake had wanted to comfort Catherine when she’d finished her tale, but it hadn’t been necessary. She’d been fighting mad rather than grieving.

“We have to stop him,” she’d said, skirts swirling as she strode about the room. “Three men dead by his hand, and God alone knows how many more.”

“I agree, but we can’t charge him with murder,” he’d reminded her. “There isn’t enough evidence.”

“Why? Mrs. Stevens saw him.”

“Do you expect me to go before the assizes and claim that Jasper murdered Mr. Berens? Jasper’s motive would be an accident that Berens himself claimed was caused by a ghost. My evidence would consist of a housekeeper who saw the ghost in the yard and checked to make sure every door and window was locked.”

She’d sagged. “You don’t believe me.”

He’d pulled her close enough to drown in her eyes. “I do believe you, Catherine. I am as convinced as you that Jasper started that fire. He probably struck Berens on the head first so he couldn’t escape.”

“But the windows—”

“Maybe Mrs. Stevens was wrong. Or maybe Jasper broke one to get in – the fire would hide a broken window. But I can’t prove it. Besides, we are not trying to send Jasper to the gallows. We want a confession.”

“But he has to pay something.” She’d trembled.

“Because he killed your husband?”

“In part, though it helps to know that Harold died trying to help others. But if he deliberately killed Berens, what’s to stop him from killing someone else?”

“What, indeed?” he repeated now, as footsteps approached the door. Jasper might consider murder a tidy solution to a growing number of problems.

Blake rose as Lord Rankin entered the study. The man did not appear ill. Nor did he appear cooperative. Anger blazed in his eyes, reddening his face. His fists were clenched.

“How dare you drag me from a sickbed to complain about a young man’s prank?” he demanded, throwing himself into his desk chair.

The question removed all doubt about which approach to use. Abandoning the notion of appealing to the father, he addressed the magistrate. “I said nothing about pranks, Lord Rankin, though a man of twenty-six is too old to indulge in juvenile behavior. I wish to present evidence of a crime. It is your duty to hold the accused until the next assizes.” He resumed his seat.

“You needn’t preach duty to me, Rockhurst,” growled Rankin. “I have been magistrate of this district for thirty years.”

“And Jasper has been terrorizing it for twenty.” He met Rankin’s angry face, confident that his own was set in implacable certainty.

“Pranks,” snorted Rankin. “You, better than most, should know that young men will sow their oats. I read the London papers.”

So Rankin knew about the turkeys he’d smuggled into Lady Horseley’s bedchamber last year. Not one of his better ideas, as he was the first to admit, but he’d wearied of her attempts to malign him. In the end, she’d seen the humor of it. He had repaired the damage, and they had declared peace. He acknowledged the irony of decrying Jasper’s behavior as juvenile when the lad was his junior by four years.

“I am not discussing pranks,” he repeated. “I am discussing crimes – deliberate damage to property and deliberate injury to people and animals.”

“Then why have I heard nothing before?” Rankin drummed his fingers on the desk top.

“Because everyone knows you have turned a blind eye to his shortcomings since childhood. The tutors at Harrow recognized them, as did his fellow students. You must have received letters when he was sent down.”

Rankin frowned, but his eyes revealed the disbelief he must have cultivated to protect his family name.

“Locally, he intimidates the victims into silence,” continued Blake. “They know that disclosing his deeds will draw retaliation.”

Rankin’s expression grew troubled. “How do you come to know of them, then?”

Blake softened his tone. “Until recently, his victims were unwilling to fight back. Most are from the lower classes and know their word will never stand against his. Many are your dependents and thus will one day be under Jasper’s thumb.”

Rankin flinched.

“And though his actions are deliberate, they are designed to look like high spirits or carelessness. He is arrogant enough to believe that he is immune from censure.”

“Arrogance is hardly a crime.”

“Not in itself. But his conceit has twisted history to convince him that he is above the law.”

“Nonsense,” sputtered Rankin. “I admit I’ve had to chastise him for the friends he keeps, but he hasn’t a malicious bone in his body.”

“Hasn’t a malicious bone? Tell that to the cats he tortured and dismembered in childhood,” snapped Blake, angry enough to reveal his loathing. “Tell it to the merchants he ruined, the tenants he punished, and the girls he seduced – not because he wanted them, but merely to hurt their loving families. Tell it to the innocents his lies besmirched and the friend whose eye he put out. And tell it to the men he murdered.”

“I-I-” Rankin’s hand clutched his chest. His face had gone from purple to white.

Cursing himself for succumbing to temper, Blake poured wine for his host. He hadn’t believed the man was truly ill, but this was more than shock. And it was not at all what he wanted. Causing a fit that killed Rankin would elevate Jasper to the peerage, making it a thousand times harder to defeat him.

He resumed his seat as Rankin drank, then waited until the viscount’s color returned.

Rankin shook his head, inhaled deeply several times, then stared at his visitor. “You are sure?”

“The evidence is clear.”

“I will listen, but I want Jasper here as well. He has a right to face his accuser.”

“It is not a right he accorded Mrs. Parrish when he savaged her reputation, but I believe in fair play,” he agreed, relaxing. It was far better to catch Jasper unaware, with a witness at hand, than to grant him an opportunity to prepare excuses. He only hoped that Rankin’s pride in his position as magistrate would balance his obsession with the family’s good name, keeping him impartial.

“Thank you. I have already sent for him. He should arrive shortly.”

In fact, he did not arrive for another hour, but Blake remained silent. Rankin was arranging excuses and honing his disbelief. His eyes flicked often toward the family tree, usually accompanied by a grimace or a flinch. But that would make the disclosures more shocking and his condemnation of Jasper harsher. Yet conjecture, hearsay, and logic would not be enough to guarantee that shift, Blake reminded himself as Rankin poured more wine. Somehow he must push Jasper into admitting guilt.

He suppressed a grimace, hoping Rankin knew about him only from London’s society pages. He might be an earl, but many lords considered him a dangerous heretic for his support of the reformers in Parliament. They knew he demanded equal justice for all classes – which was why Jasper’s crimes infuriated him.

This case cast shame on England’s justice system. A merchant or laborer would have been transported long ago had he committed any of Jasper’s crimes, even inadvertently. High spirits excused harming others only in the aristocracy. No tenant could claim that trampling a lord’s fields was a boyish prank or careless mistake. No magistrate would listen. Only the result mattered. Yes, the aristocracy deserved privileges in return for the responsibilities attached to their positions. But those privileges should not include preying on those they should be protecting.

Jasper embodied the worst traits of the aristocracy – arrogance, heedlessness, and a conviction that he could do anything with impunity. He must be taught a lesson.

“What is so important that I must cancel my plans?” demanded Jasper, slamming the door behind him.

“Lord Rockhurst has filed a complaint against you,” said Rankin, motioning Jasper to a chair. “As magistrate, I must investigate his charges.”

Blake drew in a breath to steady nerves still jumping from Jasper’s explosive entrance.

Jasper gave him a look of pure loathing. “I should have known he would make trouble when I learned he was Seabrook’s friend. You can ignore him easily enough. He is a weak-minded fool who has been deluded by a schemer. And he incited that brawl at the assembly rooms, though I’ve not yet discovered his purpose.”

“Insults won’t erase your deeds,” said Blake mildly, holding his temper firmly in check – he suspected that Jasper was trying to trigger it. “Nor can excuses hide your intentions forever. The more victims you create, the easier it is for others to see the truth. Too many people now know that you punish any irritation, no matter how insignificant.”

“Lies, my lord. Plots conjured by greedy men who hope to use your sympathy to force favors from me.”

“Favors, sir?” asked Blake, feigning surprise. “What favor could I seek from you?”

“Not you,” sputtered Jasper. “The fools you’ve been talking to. Carruthers. Jenkins. Seabrook himself.”

“Odd that you can name so many victims before I’ve even begun,” he murmured softly. “As to favors, I’ve found no one willing to accept your favor, save Mrs. Telcor, but there is ample evidence of your misdeeds.”

“Then perhaps we should examine this evidence,” suggested Rankin. His face slipped into a frown as he cast another furtive glance at the family tree.

“Seabrook has known me since school. I’ve had some small success discerning the truth behind certain incidents and have served several years as a magistrate in Oxfordshire, so when the rumors harming his sister began, he asked me to investigate. He swore they were lies.”

“He is hardly an impartial judge,” snapped Jasper.

Rankin raised a hand. “You will have your say in a moment.” His voice had turned to ice.

Jasper opened his mouth, but thought better of it when he met his father’s gaze. He subsided.

“My lord?”

Blake nodded. “Seabrook has always been honorable and truthful, so I agreed. The first fact that struck me was the timing. Dozens of rumors appeared, almost overnight. And though they claim witnesses to each act, not one person admits to being one of those witnesses. Nor can anyone name a soul who is.”

“Why would anyone admit they’d kept such scandal secret, leaving others vulnerable to her corruption?” sneered Jasper.

“Hold your tongue!” Rankin was as angry at the interruption as at the charge.

Blake ignored them both. “In the course of my investigation, I talked to people of all classes,” he continued. “Many revealed other tales, all falling into the same malicious pattern.” He repeated several, pointing out the common theme. “There are more. And if a stranger can discover a dozen in less than a week, they must be legion.”

“Fustian!” Jasper leaped to his feet. “It is a plot by that harlot to discredit me.”

“Jasper!”

“Don’t you see how he’s twisted the facts, Father? I have long since admitted fault for these so-called crimes and done my best to atone. As for the chandler’s daughter, the silly chit interpreted friendly greetings as flirtation and threw herself at me. I refused to court her, finally spending a month in Bath to avoid her. But she was so determined to rise above her station that she got herself with child, then claimed an affair that never existed, hoping her father could force me into wedding her.”

Blake shrugged. “Your word. Her word. It matters not, for it is merely one of many. And I can produce witnesses to your misdeeds dating back to that cat you tortured at age ten.”

“Old lady Green is dead.” Jasper snorted.

Blake met Rankin’s eyes, satisfied that he had heard the admission. Though he’d named no names, Jasper had known exactly what he’d meant. “Every incident fits a single pattern,” he continued. “If someone irritates or insults you, intentionally or not, disaster follows. And you are always there. But I digress.” He held up a hand to halt further protest. “These cases merely establish your character. My real complaint is murder.”

Rankin sighed, shaking his head.

“Murder!” squeaked Jasper.

“Murder. I hereby accuse Jasper Rankin, son and heir to Viscount Rankin, of killing the late Lord Seabrook and his son-in-law Harold Parrish by deliberately and repeatedly attacking Seabrook’s curricle until it veered into the ditch, dashing the occupants against the rocks.”

Jasper’s jaw hung slack in shock.

“I further accuse the aforesaid Jasper Rankin of killing Gerald Berens by burning his house down around him to prevent him from disclosing the attack on Seabrook.”

Jasper’s face had taken on a green tinge.

“Why kill Seabrook?” asked Rankin.

“Several reasons. He embarrassed Jasper by chastising him for fleecing Nigel West of everything he owned. A dozen men overheard the confrontation. But beyond that, Mrs. Green had just told Parrish about seeing Jasper torture cats in childhood. At age ten, Jasper had not yet learned to disguise his motives, so he admitted that anything causing him the least harm must be punished, because he was the heir, so his every desire must be granted.”

“My God,” murmured Rankin.

Blake continued. “Mrs. Green also described how Jasper coerced her silence. Parrish had long sought evidence that would stop the attacks on his parishioners, so he asked Seabrook to listen to her story. Jasper overheard their discussion. To keep his activities quiet among his peers, he had to silence both men. Three witnesses overheard him plotting to force Seabrook’s curricle off the road. Berens heard Parrish’s description of the accident before he died.”

“Then why has no one come forward in the two years since?” demanded Rankin.

“Two men found it easier to accept tales of ghostly manifestations than to examine their suspicions. The other remained silent out of fear. He knows that Jasper strikes out against anyone who utters even innocuous criticism. How could he accuse him of murder?”

“You are doing so.”

“I believe in justice. A lord is dead, cut down to protect sordid secrets. Two others also died. Condoning such atrocities undermines the very foundation of the system you and I are sworn to uphold.” He held Rankin’s eye.

Jasper snorted. “Ignore him, Father,” he said, shaking his head. “He seeks only to restore innocence to the village harlot. Somehow he thinks this plot will accomplish that impossible goal. Either he devised it himself, or he is gullible enough to believe liars and cheats. He cannot know whose word is trustworthy and whose is not. What right does he have to impose his wishes on your district?”