Timeless Passion: 10 Historical Romances To Savor (78 page)

As she registered this, she said nothing.

“Do you still wish to marry me?” he asked her, easing back and looking into her eyes.

“That should be my question to you.”

“Nothing has changed for me, Rhianna. Do you still wish to marry
me
?” he repeated.

“Yes.”

Thayne’s lips at once besieged hers, finalizing the matter. Rhianna’s fears began to melt slowly away. The emotions swirling within her were powerful and would not easily abate, but that she had nothing to worry about Thayne was fully convincing. His passionate kiss quickly persuaded her to believe he not only still wanted her, but that nothing could change his mind.

For some time, Rhianna allowed him to continue to persuade her thus, partly for the reassurance of his affection, partly for the lack of energy to refuse, and mostly for the desire that he awakened in her. Thayne made little effort to hide his own longings, and excepting a single pause to meet her gaze, he showed himself in no particular rush to convince her of his unending love.

• • •

Rhianna recognized the voices in the hallway at once.

“Is he not
mortal
? I do not understand!”

Pierson’s frustration was evident, as Lydia tried to satisfy him. “He is strong, cousin. He survives what no other man would.”

Pierson tapped his foot anxiously against the floor. “Neither you nor Desmond have been able to get to him to give him the final dose.”

Persuading him to calm himself, and persuasion was her greatest skill, Lydia said, “You cannot hurry these things. Everything will end perfectly. You can be sure I’ll see to that myself.”

It had little effect on him. “
Hurry
? This should have been finished a year and a half ago!”

Rhianna covered her own mouth and looked at Thayne, who himself looked intently toward the door of Catherine Kingsley’s room, his arms still wrapped tightly around her.

“Time is running out for me, Lydia,” Pierson continued. “If you cannot get this done tonight, I will have to leave England …
and you
.”

“My love, if you can but give me a few days …”

“You have had your time! You are not able to do it,” he accused.

“I want nothing but for it to be done,” she assured him. “Is not everyone convinced he has been ill for some time of natural causes? They are all expecting his death at any moment.”

“You think me a fool! Prove your commitment. If Guilford Kingsley is not dead by midnight, you and I are through.”

Pierson could be heard walking around the corner and down the east hall. Lydia appeared to chase after him.

“I will find a way …” her voice faded.

Rhianna was shaking her head. “The final dose? They are
poisoning
him? They are poisoning Lord Kingsley!”

“I have to admit,” Thayne told her, “I did not think them capable of this.”

“Thayne,” she hurried, a wave of revulsion shooting through her, “they are after the money from the Irish estate. They do not realize Lord Kingsley has left it to Audra and myself. Who is to say when they find out that they will not attempt to kill us, as well?”

Suddenly, she recalled a certain late night meeting between Pierson, Lydia, and Desmond and she knew a murder had already been attempted, and not against Lord Kingsley only.

“What if they have tried this before?” she told him, as her thoughts raced from one to another. “I have heard Lord Kingsley was sick before I arrived. What if they were poisoning him then? I overheard Pierson say that ‘when
she
arrived, everything was undone.’ Oh, Thayne! What if he was referring to me? He accused Lydia of having doubts and giving excuses not to follow through on some scheme. Only now, I think he must have been referring to this — killing Lord Kingsley! Imagine, Thayne, if Pierson thought me interfering in some way, a man already with murderous intent. Perhaps he and Desmond were the persons in the woods that day at Ravensleigh. Perhaps Pierson
did
have something to do with my accident. Why wouldn’t he try to get rid of me? If Lydia truly has had doubts about the murder and used me as an excuse to delay this terrible scheme, Pierson might have been quite determined.” Thayne stood stiff, as she concluded, “Now, time has run out. Lydia must choose between Lord Kingsley and Pierson, and it appears she has made her decision.”

Thayne looked at her anxiously, his grip tightening around her. “We must hurry back. Lydia will be a desperate woman tonight.”

He took her hand and they hurried out of the room. Rhianna dared not think of the outcome. One thing was certain: If Lydia and Desmond were determined to kill Guilford Kingsley, they would not hesitate to kill
anyone
who stood in their way.

• • •

It was a room Lydia had never entered and little thought of. Though a gray-haired woman by the time she came to live with them, Catherine Kingsley added to the difficulty of her sneaking Pierson to and from the house. Anything remindful of her was disagreeable to Lydia and she had, in fact, so far removed the memory of her stay from her mind that the very existence of the bedroom was forgotten — and so it would have remained had the door not been left ajar. On the way back to her own bedroom, Lydia halted before the open door and peeked into the sheet-covered room, wondering who would have had any interest in entering it.

On the bed, a document caught her eye and curiosity immediately took over. Seeing that no one else was around, she entered, despite a distinct feeling of being unwelcome and out of place. She approached and snatched the document that was Guilford’s will and examined its contents, her eyes focused on finding the one bequest that mattered …

Her hands quaked so violently, she could no longer read the words on the printed page. Soon, her entire body convulsed with fury. The blue veins of her forehead popped and bloodspots scattered around her eyes, while despite the cold in the air she began to sweat with hate. Lydia found herself clenching her teeth, her mouth at once dehydrated, as she realized the document had been executed twenty years previous.

It would have been one thing to leave Wyndgate to Audra, but the curate’s daughter? A mere baby at the time, what could sway him to steal from his own family in such a loathsome manner? Lydia, yet convinced of an affair between them, wondered at his clear fixation on Rhianna Braden from the beginning of her existence and was all but baffled — until she looked up and her eyes fell upon a portrait …

Catherine Kingsley.

Lydia was taken aback. She stared at the unveiled painting, the shocking resemblance between Catherine and Rhianna turning her white with rage. The portrait’s eyes in turn met hers with a disapproving gaze and Lydia recognized the feeling. For some time, she had attempted to dismiss sensations that the dead woman was watching her from every corner of the manor. Indeed, though, she was.
Rhianna
was watching her — Guilford’s bastard child. Lydia wondered little who the mother was. And now the girl lived under the same roof, with no future purpose but to torment her, just as Catherine had, watching her with accusing eyes while stealing her family’s fortune.

With these thoughts, Lydia escaped the room as fast as she could, leaving behind her a quiet, empty room, a sliver of sun shining favorably on the unveiled portrait of Catherine Kingsley, the white sheet that had before covered it hanging loosely down the side of the fireplace.

Chapter Ten

“Lord Kingsley told me we could trust Mr. Weathersby,” Rhianna told Thayne. “What of Dr. Logan? Ought he to have discovered the poison in his system? Do you imagine he could be conspiring with them?”

With his hand on the doorknob to Lord Kingsley’s bedroom, Thayne paused. All the servants had left. The hallway was empty but for the two of them.

“Pierson was specific that neither Lydia nor Desmond was able to get to Lord Kingsley to give him the final dose. If such is the case, it would seem they are working alone,” he thought aloud. “Not to mention Dr. Logan has had full access to Lord Kingsley, and if all that was required was a final dose, he certainly hasn’t administered it.”

“Yes, but Mr. Weathersby has been consistently at his side. Perhaps even Dr. Logan’s full access is not opportunity enough under watchful eyes.”

At last, he shook his head. “There is nothing to be gained for the doctor by the death of Lord Kingsley,” Thayne said, resolutely. “Nothing is impossible, but we are going to have to take the chance and hope the doctor is on our side.”

Rhianna nodded, her hands wrung anxiously together. Thayne kissed her forehead and opened the door.

Guilford lay in bed sleeping, his previous confession having pressed his strength to the limit. Weathersby and Dr. Logan stood nearby, their faces grave, as they had been all along.

“Gentlemen,” called Thayne.

“Lord Brighton,” they greeted. “Miss Braden.”

Rhianna half curtseyed, eyeing both men suspiciously. She didn’t want to, but she couldn’t help it.

“Dr. Logan,” Thayne addressed, in a no-holds-barred manner, “I have a very serious question to ask of you, and I beg you will excuse my directness.”

Dr. Logan appeared at once concerned. “Of course.”

“Have you ruled out the possibility that Lord Kingsley has been poisoned?”

“Poisoned?” echoed Weathersby.

Dr. Logan appeared equally aghast. “Sir?”

Thayne watched his reaction closely. “Something that could have been administered over a period of time to make it appear he was ill of natural causes?”

The doctor’s brows furrowed together, his mouth parted. He looked at Guilford with what appeared heavy concern.

“Arsenic,” he answered, his voice monotone. “It would be nearly undetectable. Lord Brighton,” he glared at him, “what exactly are you suggesting?”

“A very serious allegation against Lydia Kingsley, Desmond Kingsley, and her cousin, Mr. Pierson, Doctor. Miss Braden and I are, in fact, witnesses to a conversation between two of them on this very subject.”

Weathersby’s mouth opened as if to gasp, but no sound was heard. Dr. Logan rushed to Guilford’s side and examined him.

“It would explain his symptoms,” the doctor said, his voice hurried, panicked.

“Dr. Logan,” Rhianna asked, hesitantly, “if such is the case, could he be saved?”

Her eyes were wide, pleading. For a moment, she forgot he did not know he was her father.

Dr. Logan seemed to consider the likelihood. “It is possible,” he told her, cautiously. Then he shook his head. “Could Lady Kingsley be capable of this?”

The room fell silent.

“Rhianna, may I speak with you outside?” Thayne asked. She silently agreed. “I will return, gentlemen.”

They seemed not even to hear him and he exited with Rhianna.

In the hallway, Thayne’s hands enclosed her face, his hold gentle yet tense. “I want you and Audra to leave this place. It is not safe.”

“Where shall we … ?”

“Ravensleigh.”

Rhianna’s eyes turned toward Lord Kingsley’s bedroom door. Thayne was not unaware of her concern and his thumbs softly stroked her cheeks.

“There is nothing you can do here, Rhianna,” he told her delicately.

“What will you do?”

“I will call on some friends. Some live close and can be here in a matter of hours. In the meantime, I will personally watch over Lord Kingsley. The guilty parties are not aware of our knowledge. It will buy us some time.” She allowed him to accept her silence as agreement. “Let us speak with Henry. I will have him call my carriage and we will get you a change of clothes.”

• • •

Thayne carried a sleepy Audra to the carriage in front of Kingsley Manor, seeing for the first time the sisterly resemblances between her and Rhianna in their pale skin and large eyes. His driver, Barton, stood at the ready.

“But I don’t want to leave …” The emotional exhaustion had taken its toll on Audra; her words were mumbled and weak, her eyes closing.

“It is only for a little while. I will watch over your father while you keep my mum and Crispin company. Crispin is already waiting for you.”

She sighed, surrendering to the physical limits of her body. Thayne gently placed her down beside the maid and manservant Lady Brighton had sent to accompany them on their short journey to Ravensleigh. They tossed a blanket over her as Thayne tipped his hat to them both.

Rhianna was speaking with Henry at the front door, each nodding to the other, when Thayne turned to her. Then, she made her way toward her fiancé. Despite the circumstances, Thayne allowed himself a moment to admire the woman he adored, her red hair as it sparkled in the mid-afternoon sun, her green, almond-shaped eyes that lit up when they met his, and even her long, hooded cloak as it twisted around her in the wind. He cherished the moment, knowing the time to appreciate it was now, for who could say how the hours ahead would pass?

Her gloved hands reached out to his.

“I do not know how soon it will be before we are together again,” Thayne told her.

There was so much more to say, but he hesitated. Thayne’s intention had been to prepare Rhianna for a long absence, but as those few words passed his lips he realized
himself
what that would mean — a pain acute and severe. Instantly recalling the snowstorm that had all too recently kept them apart, this too would keep them at a distance for an unknown, excruciating period.

But there was no time to consider that. Besides, there was no alternative. At least this time he could remind himself she was promised to him.

“I love you,” he concluded.

Her worried expression softened, and her cheeks grew rosy with her faint smile. “I love you, Thayne Brighton.”

He allowed the sound of his name from her lips to echo in his ears.

“Whatever damage has been done,” he at last promised her, “I will not let any further harm come to Lord Kingsley.”

She nodded. “I know. Please be careful.”

He promised with an abrupt kiss and assisted her into the carriage. They exchanged anxious glances before the door closed between them.

“Barton,” Thayne instructed, “go
directly
to Ravensleigh. Stop for no one, do you understand?”