Virginia Henley (26 page)

“Otis Grant-Stewart?” asked Brockington. “Why, he’s a friend of my father’s!” Kitty could see his confidence returning and tried not to panic. These upper-crust types would close ranks and she would be destroyed.

“Thank you, Dr. Fielding. I appreciate your coming so promptly,” she said as she showed him out.

Kitty felt drained of emotion. Mrs. Hobson helped her to lift Simon. Strangely, the bullet hole looked small, there was very little blood, but when they lifted his body, they saw that the back of his head had been blown to pieces. She washed him, then dressed him in the clothes he had worn in London. She felt physically numb, but her mind raced wildly, filled with thoughts of Patrick, Terrance, Simon, Brockington, the doctor and the coroner who would arrive tomorrow. Her mind went blank for a moment and she admonished herself, “Think! What will you say when the doctor arrives? When Brockington and Grant-Stewart put their heads together, I’ll be the poor Irish scapegoat.” She realized the odds against her were overwhelming. She was cynical enough to realize they would have much in common and she would be the outsider. Even if they weren’t acquaintances, it was two men against one woman, and she didn’t stand much chance.

She took a tea tray upstairs and went into the bedroom that Lord Brockington used on his frequent visits. He was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. “I thought you probably
could use a cup of tea. I know I could.” She tried to keep the weariness out of her voice. She sipped the tea and began softly, “Does your father know that you are a … a pederast?”

He looked at her defiantly, but when she steadily held his gaze, his eyes slid away and he shook his head “no.”

“This will hurt him very much, won’t it?” she said gently. “If I were you, I think I’d get across the Channel until all this blows over. I’ve got some money I could let you have,” she offered.

Her generosity awoke his first sense of shame. “I can’t leave you to face the music alone.”

“I’ll be truthful with you, Brocky. We’re in one hell of a mess, but I think I’d be better off alone. If they think you’ve sloped off and left me to it, they’ll only see that I’m female and helpless.” Then she added as a clincher, “I’ve got a hundred pounds you can have if you go tonight.”

“Get it!” he shouted. “You don’t mind if I borrow a mount, do you?” Relief washed over her in great waves as the fingers of the dawn crept up the darkened sky. She looked down and was amazed to see that her clothes were bloodstained and crumpled. She had to force her legs to move. She must bathe and change before the worthy doctors arrived.

They drove up in a carriage at midmorning and Kitty greeted Dr. Fielding with an air of innocent trust. She felt Otis Grant-Stewart scrutinize her from head to foot. She looked pleadingly at him and her mouth began to tremble. “Doctor, Lord Brockington has fled and taken all my money with him.”

He looked startled. “If that is true, you should have called the police. I told you last night the police ought to be called in.” She gave a pleading little look to Dr. Grant-Stewart. “But the police would cause such a nasty scandal. I don’t
wish to protect Lord Brockington, but I was thinking of his father.”

“Quite right, my dear, quite right,” said Dr. Grant-Stewart. He cleared his throat and murmured, “Ah, Dr. Fielding has quite graphically explained what was going on here last night, I just want you to tell me about the shooting,” he prompted.

“Thank you, Doctor. I was holding the gun and I was so shocked by what I saw that Lord Brockington easily took the gun away from me. As he did so, it went off and killed my husband.”

Dr. Fielding gave her a quick glance at this alteration in her testimony.

“Could I see the body?” asked Dr. Grant-Stewart.

“Of course, Doctor.” She turned to Dr. Fielding with a smile. “Would you have another look at my brother, Doctor? You did such a wonderful job of calming him down last night, I don’t know what I would have done without you.” He nodded and left them. Kitty took Dr. Grant-Stewart to her husband’s bedroom. He gave the body only a cursory examination and Kitty looked at him with tears in her eyes. “When I think of all the fun they used to have. Parties every weekend; all the young men from the best London families. I’m afraid it will be very messy when you reveal all the details.”

He cleared his throat and said, “I think it would save you a great deal of pain, my dear, if I just signed the death certificate. We’ll put down ‘accidental death.’ Inquisitive people will assume it was a hunting accident, and I see no reason why you should disabuse them of this idea. I’ll make the burial arrangements for tomorrow.”

At last she could think about sleep. She looked at the bed. The last time she had slept there, she had been clasped safe in Patrick’s embrace. God! How long ago that seemed. She sank into the bed and
pulled
the covers over her head to blot
out the daylight. She slept for the next twenty hours. She awoke to find Terry shaking her.
“Acushla
, are you all right?”

She looked up into worried brown eyes, smiled sleepily and said, “I thought you were Patrick. As soon as the funeral is over, we’re going to Julia’s in London. When Patrick returns from America, we’ll be married.”

“Are you certain he promised marriage, Kitty?” he asked dubiously.

“Of course he did!” she said, stiffening. “What are you getting at?”

“Well, it’s easy to promise marriage to a woman who has a husband. I’ve done it myself. You just keep promising, ‘when you’re free,’ knowing full well she may never be free!”

“It wasn’t like that!” Kitty protested. “He swore he would get me free and I really believe that Patrick would have killed Simon if there were no other way,” she said earnestly.

Terry chuckled rather unpleasantly. “Well, love, in that case it seems like you’ve saved him the trouble. You’ve done the dirty work, so to speak, and like all the bloody wealthy masters of this world, he’s managed to keep his hands clean.”

“I thought you admired Patrick,” Kitty said in bewilderment.

“Oh, I do admire him, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.”

“Underneath, he is exactly the same as us—black Irish,” she insisted.

He laughed scornfully. “What a bloody recommendation! Think back carefully, Kitty, to your hours in bed together. Make sure he used no slipping-out phrases. Did he promise or didn’t he? Do you have a contract with his conscience?”
She blushed at his words but said with a finality that settled his doubts and her own, “We exchanged vows.”

Simon was buried in the same grave as his father. Kitty listened dry-eyed to the curate recite the funeral service, “I am the resurrection and the life….” She leafed absently through her prayer book, and two sentences stood out and screamed their words at her: “Thou shalt not kill” and “The wrath of God is upon him that committeth adultery.” She had done both!

She looked up and saw two strange men standing a short distance away. She was surprised to find they followed her. They were creditors! She was astonished. How had word gotten to the city so quickly? She fobbed them off with a tale of a will being read and assured them if they would return tomorrow they would be paid what was owed them. Half of the money Patrick had given her was already gone, so she was determined that not another penny would slip through her fingers to pay off Simon’s obligations. Brandywine had been gambled away long ago and Brockington had taken the only other decent horse in the stables. “Terry, we’ll have to take it in easy stages by the looks of these poor animals.”

He reassured her, “They don’t look much, but they won’t let us down. Neither one of us is a heavyweight.”

“It will be good to see Barbara again,” mused Kitty.

“Barbara?” Terry went white.

“Yes, of course. She’s staying with Julia while Patrick is in America.”

Kitty knew that Barbara was crazy about Terrance, but realized wisely he was feeling very unclean at the moment and could not contemplate a romance with the innocent young girl who obviously adored him. Kitty changed the subject quickly and prayed his sensitivity would lessen as time passed.

*   *   *

With every mile she traveled closer to London, the hope grew that she would be in time to catch Patrick before he left. How marvelous it would be to tell him of the horror she had gone through and let him take over and comfort her. A longing grew within her that she had never experienced before, and it grew until it obsessed her. She wore a thin black muslin dress. It was a poor excuse for a mourning gown—the neck was low enough to expose the rise of her breasts—but it was the only thing that came close to observing the strict rules laid down for a widow. As they rode through the London streets, Kitty felt as shabby and strange as the day she and Terry had arrived on the wagon in Bolton. Things really were not so different now. Everything she owned was in one pathetic bundle, and still she had no home of her own to go to. She straightened her back and knew at least she had hope to cling to. She had a purse full of money, and maybe, just maybe, Patrick still would be at Cadogen Square.

They left the horses at the stable and walked up the steps to the front door. The butler, usually so stiff and proper, broke into a smile when he saw her. “Miss Kitty, welcome back. Miss Barbara and the mistress will be home any minute. Make yourselves comfortable in the library, and I’ll serve you some tea.” He hesitated. “You won’t be alone; there’s someone else waiting in the library….” Kitty needed no further words. She dropped her bag and ran breathlessly down the hall to the library. With his broad back and dark head, the library’s occupant didn’t hear her enter until she cried out, “Patrick! Thank God you’re still here!” She ran toward him with arms outstretched. Sir Charles Drago turned from the fireplace to see the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. At the sight of his face, a look of unbelieving dismay came into her eyes. Her legs turned to water and she knew she was going down into a vortex from which there
was no escape. She knew she was too late! The walls closed in on her, and the floor rose up to hit her in the face.

Charles sprang forward instantly and caught her in his arms. She was in a dead faint and as he gazed at the lovely mouth, drooping just inches below his own, saw the black lashes shadowed on the creamy pallor of her face and felt the soft body relax against his, he felt the stirrings of desire. He was completely surprised at his physical reaction, as he hadn’t been able to achieve this state for over two years, and he had greatly feared that that part of his life was completely finished.

Charles looked helplessly at Terrance and said, “Why did she faint? Is she ill?”

Terry said quietly, “We buried her husband only yesterday. I’m afraid it’s all been too much for her.”

Charles was startled. The girl didn’t seem old enough to be a wife, let alone a widow.

At that moment Julia and Barbara entered the library. Julia cried, “Sir Charles, how lovely to see you again. Good Lord, what’s happened?”

Barbara cried, “Oh, it’s Kitty!” and looked helplessly toward Terrance for an explanation.

Charles said, “The poor child has fainted and I don’t even know who she is.”

Julia, who had been expecting Kitty for days, said carefully, “She’s Kathleen, our Irish cousin, and this is her brother, Terrance. Put her here on the sofa, Charles. Barbara, get some brandy. Whatever can be the matter with her?”

Once again Terrance said, “There was a shooting accident. We buried Simon yesterday.”

“Good God, no wonder she’s ill,” said Julia.

“I think she’s coming round,” said Charles, rubbing Kitty’s hands and looking at her anxiously. She opened her
eyes and looked into his kind face. She could tell he was genuinely worried.

“Excuse me, I’m very sorry to be so much trouble. I thought you were Patrick, and then when you turned round I was so surprised to see it was someone else, I made a shocking display of myself,” apologized Kitty.

“Not so, my dear. We offer our sincere sympathy for the loss of your husband. It’s delayed shock. Are you feeling better now?”

“You are very kind,” she whispered, and thought, What a gentle man, and how strong his hands are.

Barbara gave her the glassful of brandy and said, “Oh, Kitty, Patrick sailed yesterday. You’ve missed him, but you must rest and get well and he’ll be back with us before your mourning period is even over.”

“So Patrick’s gone to America again, has he? Then I’ve missed him too,” Charles said regretfully.

Julia, very conscious of Sir Charles Drago’s position, said, “I had no idea you were in England. Is your governorship of St. Christopher’s over?”

“No, I’m afraid I have another year to serve before I can come home to stay. Unfortunately I returned because my father was dying. We buried him two days ago in Ireland.”

“I’m so sorry, Sir Charles,” said Julia.

“Oh, your Grace, that makes you the new Duke of Manchester!” cried Barbara.

“If you ladies will excuse me, I know you are wishing me at the ends of the earth at this moment. I’ll call again tomorrow to see how the lass is,” and he gave Kitty a meaningful look.

As soon as he was gone, Kitty insisted on getting up. “I’m sorry I was a bother, but I feel perfectly fine now.”

“Patrick insisted I put you in his room when you arrived, so up you go and stay out of my way until dinner. I’m in a
wretched mood. I have a million things on my mind, and Charles Drago has to pick today to pay a call on us. I’ll tell you one thing, Kitty: I should have married that man who was here today instead of that idiot I saddled myself with. I could have been a duchess today—just think of it, a duchess!”

“Julia … about Simon,” Kitty began, but Julia held up her hand imperiously.

“Not one word. I don’t know what you and Patrick have cooked up between you, and I don’t want to know. This is Patrick’s house, and I have no doubt you’ll be mistress of it when he returns. Until then, make yourself at home. You know you are one of the family, so I shan’t treat you like a guest, but for God’s sake don’t involve me in this business about Simon!”

“Where’s Terry disappeared to?” asked Kitty to change the subject.