The Prince of Ravenscar (33 page)

Sophie said, “I don't believe a tonic is going to help this time, ma'am. I really don't want this villain to die until after he tells us who hired him.” Sophie rubbed her hands together, smiled at Julian, and made her way to the lovely Georgian teapot. Roxanne stared after her. She looked at Julian. He was looking down at his boots. Now, this was very interesting.

Corinne rose and walked to Roxanne, cupped her face between her white hands, then, with a sigh, she clasped her to her bosom. “You are quite recovered, my dear?”

“Yes, ma'am. Well, maybe still a bit shaky, but the man didn't have a chance to hurt me. I am glad to be back. Ah, Devlin, you have rubbed cream into your face. Do you feel less crispy?”

He was once again wearing his coat, quickly brushed by Pouffer himself. His face didn't have his usual vampire pallor, it was white with cream. He touched a finger to his cheek. “Should you care to rub the cream in for me while I try to find any straws you missed and pick them out?”

Sophie laughed. “It took me five minutes, but I think I got them all.”

“I have been wondering,” the duchess said slowly, “how this man managed to get into Ravenscar. Pouffer makes his rounds every evening at ten o'clock sharp. So how did this scoundrel manage to slither in? But the bigger question is this: How did he know which was Roxanne's bedchamber?”

Devlin said, “An excellent point, ma'am, which rather proves it had to be Richard who hired him, since he did know exactly which bedchamber Roxanne was in.”

Julian said, “Since Richard has been in and out of Ravenscar for years, he'd know every way to get into the house.”

Sophie was pacing, a frown on her face. “There is something wrong here. I don't think Richard is a fool. Why would he do something so utterly outrageous, knowing he would be suspected? Doesn't he have a brain?” She smacked the side of her own head. “What am I talking about? He is evidently going to marry Leah. He must not only be a moron, he must hate himself.”

Roxanne said, “Don't forget Manners set fire to the cargo on the
Blue Star,
on Richard's orders. That could have worked, I suppose, but our wonderful cabin boy saved the day.”

They looked up to see Pouffer clearing his throat at the door. “Prince, Baron Purley is here with Dr. Crutchfield.”

“Show the baron in here, Pouffer, and please take Dr. Crutchfield to Manners.”

The baron said from the doorway, “I wish to visit this man with Dr. Crutchfield, Julian, examine him more closely. I think now that I have seen him before.”

Everyone accompanied Dr. Crutchfield to a small sewing room at the end of the west corridor. It held only one narrow bed, a washbasin, and a large work table. Tom, the beefiest footman in Julian's employ, stood against the wall, arms crossed over his chest, standing guard and taking it seriously.

“I wonder where Baron Purley saw Manners?” Sophie whispered to Julian, as they stood near the door, watching Dr. Crutchfield examine him.

Dr. Crutchfield straightened, turned to Julian. “Prince, I see two large lumps on his head. How was he struck?”

Roxanne said, “I hit him twice on his head, sir, with a plowshare. As hard as I could.”

“I trust he deserved it, for the lumps are of a great size. Now I believe he has fallen into a deep coma. I honestly do not know if he will awaken, Prince. I'm very sorry.”

Baron Purley said, “I was wrong, Julian, I haven't seen him before.” He paused for a moment. “I know you think Richard to be responsible for Roxanne's kidnapping, but I do not honestly believe Richard is behind this. He is a gentleman, when all is said and done.”

Y
ou said I belonged to you.”

Julian had closed the door to the sewing room, leaving Tom to keep watch over Manners. At her words, he stiffened straight as a shot, gave her a harassed look.

She was standing not six feet from him, dressed in a lavender muslin gown, belted with a darker lavender sash. The color made her skin glow. Her dark brown hair shone in the dim hallway light. She looked like she was willing to stand exactly where she was until he spoke. “You aren't remembering correctly. It was Devlin who said that about Roxanne.”

He realized she knew very well Devin had said that to Roxanne. She shouldn't ever gamble, she would surely lose every groat she had.

She took a light step forward. “Ah, yes, I remember now. I wonder, would you say the same about me, Julian? Do I belong to you?”

“You are close to my mother, are you not? And thus you are like my family. It is my responsibility to guard my family, since my family is part of me, and thus belongs to me.”

“You could not repeat that if you tried with all your might, since it is so very convoluted and at its core means nothing. You know as well as I do that isn't at all what Devlin meant.”

She struck a pose, her fingertips tapping her chin. “But wait, I rather think now I like being considered simply one of your family. Yes, that is fine. A powerful family at your back is a very good thing. Do you know what I'm going to do? After we go on our smuggling adventure and you have taken care of Richard, I am going to return to London to finish my first Season. Goodness, how many more balls are there? Dozens, don't you think? I won't have missed all that many. I do love dancing, and gossiping with all the other girls about this and that gentleman, comparing their faces, their forms, how much money they have to lay on the marital block, wondering which one will propose to which girl—ah, so many days I must wait until my future can begin again.” She turned away, whistling, and strode off down the corridor like an arrogant boy.

Julian went to his estate room. He tried to focus on accounts, but within ten minutes he was leaning his head back on the sofa cushions, asleep, his four spaniels hunkered in close.

He awoke with a start, bounded to his feet, dumping the spaniels on the carpet, when he heard Pouffer shouting, “No! You cannot go in there, sir! That is the prince's private room he shares only with the dogs and Miss Sophie. No, sir!”

The door flew open, and there stood Richard Langworth, his face pale with rage.

“I see you came quickly back from Saint Austell. What happened? Did Lady Merrick decide the lovely scenery wasn't to her taste after all?”

“No, it began to rain. Damn you, how dare you order me here to deal with me ‘once and for all'?”

“Did I say that?”

“That is what my father told me. He said you wanted to end it. Damn you, I did not hire anyone to kidnap Roxanne!”

“That is very difficult to believe, since you already hired Mr. Manners to burn my goods aboard the
Blue Star.
You can't deny it, since you gave it away in London.”

“All right, yes, I did hire him to cause a bit of damage. He wasn't going to burn all your goods, that would be foolhardy, he was going to keep the blaze well under control, bring about just enough damage so your goods would be worth nothing much at all, but the blighter failed, damn his eyes. You know you deserve that I try to ruin you. You bastard, you murdered my sister! You shot her dead. I think you believed she had a lover, and that's why you killed her.”

Julian said very quietly, “Do you believe Lily was unfaithful to me, Richard?”

Richard drew a deep breath. He stuffed his hands into his pockets. “No, I don't know, but I've never known you to act in your life without a good reason. Lily having a lover is the only reason that makes sense, the only thing that would anger you sufficiently. Why won't you admit it? Why? There is no one here to hear you confess, you won't be hung, dammit.”

“Do you know, if Lily had taken a lover, I wouldn't ever have considered killing her. How could I? I loved her. I would have set her free.”

“I have seen you in a rage before.”

“And did I kill anyone?”

“No, you beat the fellow to his knees.”

“Ah, that one. Well, he was a bully, and he insulted Lily. What was I to do?”

“Beat him to his knees, damn you.”

“Richard, let me be honest here. I wouldn't have killed Lily if she were unfaithful, that is quite true. The man, however, I might very well have killed. But I wouldn't have been in a rage. I would have been as smart as I could, killed him, and buried him and gotten away with it.

“Now, I will tell you yet again. I didn't shoot her. When I came into the garden, she was already dead. Listen to me, Richard. I will say this once more, then never again, for I begin to bore even myself. I swear my innocence to you on my father's honor, since you obviously don't believe I have any honor.”

“You had honor once.”

“As did you.”

Richard picked up a brass candlestick and hurled it against the fireplace. Both men stared as the candlestick bounced off the marble, then rolled across the wooden floor, coming to rest on the Aubusson carpet.

“You frightened my spaniels.”

Julian sat down again, gathering the four dogs to him. “It's all right. Just an accident. Cletus, don't you forget your manners.” He calmed the dogs, then looked over at Richard, who stood, white-faced, leaning against his desk.

Julian said, “You have spent the past three years of your life plotting my downfall. You have thought of nothing else. It has become an obsession with you, your father is quite right about that. You have stopped moving forward, Richard, you have stopped living your life.”

“I owe it to my sister to bring her murderer to justice. Until you are dead, I will continue to owe it to her.”

Julian eyed his boyhood friend, saw his hands clench and unclench at his sides, felt the heat of his bubbling rage writhing about just below the surface. He said, “I would ask you to believe—but for a moment—that I am not guilty of her murder. If you believe my innocence—for a moment only—then tell me, Richard, what do you think happened?”

“What is this nonsense?”

“I ask you to humor me—for but a moment. If I didn't shoot Lily, then what do you think happened?”

“She didn't commit suicide, as you were claiming. I know Lily; she would never kill herself, never. It would mean that someone else killed her and tried to make it look like suicide. And the someone else saw you coming and hoped you would be blamed, that is what I would think if I were not certain in my own mind that you were guilty.”

“All right. I ask that you consider for yet another moment that I did not kill Lily. Let me ask you, did you kill her, Richard?”

“I? Kill my own sister? I loved her; I would never have harmed her.”

“Even if she did something so reprehensible it destroyed all feeling for her?”

“No, there is nothing that would make me feel that way, even if she took a dozen lovers and flaunted them about the neighborhood.”

“Very well. I ask you to keep thinking that I am innocent. If Lily didn't kill herself, then who put a pistol to her heart and pulled the trigger? Who left it in her hand? Do you remember who was in the house that day?”

Richard shoved his fingers through his hair. He began pacing the estate room. The spaniels were pressed tightly against Julian, watching first him and then Richard.

Richard whirled about. “My father was in the house. So was Vicky. She had tried on a new white gown, I remember that clearly. When she came running into the garden, you were crouched over Lily, bloody, looking down at her. Vicky fell to her knees and hugged her sister tightly, began rocking her. When my father lifted her off, there was blood all over her white gown. I remember thinking it looked like she was shot.”

Julian nodded. “Yes, now I remember you yelled at her to go burn the damned gown. I remember, too, that I simply couldn't accept Lily's death, couldn't accept that she wasn't breathing and I couldn't bring her back, that she was gone. I remember there was so much blood. I had her blood all over my hands.”

“You were shaking her, yelling at her, pleading with her, pouring your breath into her mouth—all of it an act to convince everyone of your despair. You were crying—yet another act.”

Julian was seeing it all clearly again, and it nearly bowed him to his knees. He said, his voice thick, “The pain of it has lessened over time, but speaking of it brings it all back again. I can hear Vicky screaming; I can see your father's bloodless face, see his lips moving, but nothing came out.

“Richard, consider that nothing I did was an act. That what you saw was a husband who was devastated by his wife's violent death. Do you remember anyone else who was about that day?”

“No. You asked everyone, you questioned every servant, every gardener, every stable lad, but none of them saw anyone else. So if we are to continue your game, it means you want me to believe one of Lily's family murdered her, either my sister or my father.”

“If you didn't kill her and you swear to me she wouldn't have killed herself, then yes, who else is there to consider?”

“Damn you, no, it is impossible.”

Julian said slowly, “You wish to believe me guilty because you can't bear it to be either Vicky or your father. Blaming me has kept them safe from your scrutiny for three years. Making your focus on me as the killer has kept that awful fear buried deep inside you, the fear that one of them was responsible.” He waited a beat. “Or the only other possibility is that she did indeed kill herself. But like you, I would swear there was no lover, so the question is: Why would she kill herself? We'd only been married six months. It's true, I was gone a lot in those days, so much to be done. Mayhap she was lonely, mayhap she did meet a man, but I don't think so, nor does my mother.