Whisper To Me of Love (49 page)

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Authors: Shirlee Busbee

BOOK: Whisper To Me of Love
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Years ago, while he had realized immediately the necessity of muffling his voice when dealing with his various victims if he wanted to continue to move freely among them, it had never occurred to him to do the same thing when in the company of Jane and the others. A stupid,
stupid
mistake!
Of course, he realized that Jacko recognizing his voice was the least of his worries—Morgana's marriage to Manchester had smashed the plans that he had nurtured for so many years, and unless he acted immediately, there would be no way that he could salvage anything from the ruins.
His mind working at a furious rate, he stared off into space, trying to decide how he was going to recover from this most recent catastrophic turn of events. Time had become of paramount importance—if he was to salvage any of his plans, he
had
to get Morgana away from Manchester instantly! Once she was introduced to society as Manchester's wife ... His face twisted savagely. That wasn't going to happen—when she made her first appearance to the members of the ton, it would be as
his
wife!
So how to get her away from Manchester? A scowl wrinkling his brow, he reviewed Zachary and Jacko's comments. The two young men had clearly indicated that the marriage between Morgana and Manchester had been a love match, and if that was the case, then Morgana would no doubt do anything in her power to save the life of her very new husband... .
A note, he thought slowly, a very explicit note delivered to her in the morning, should bring her running to him... .
Very well, that took care of one problem, and a second note delivered to Manchester several hours
after
they had left for his own country estate should bring the distraught husband following quickly behind... .
A gleeful expression suffused his features. Yes! Yes! It was a splendid plan! First thing in the morning, he would inform Wetherly that he would be leaving for his home in Hastings, just a few hours ride from Tunbridge Wells, and since he had deliberately not committed himself for the full length of the house party, no one would think it strange if he departed ahead of time. He would be waiting for Morgana near Lime Tree Cottage, and once she was safely under his control, he would drive immediately to Hastings and make some very lethal preparations for her husband's arrival. Disposing of Manchester's body would be relatively easy—his home overlooked the sea, and it would be simple enough to make certain that when Royce Manchester's corpse sank into its icy depths, his body would never be recovered—Royce Manchester would simply disappear forever!
Almost chortling with delight at his own brilliance, he very nearly convinced himself that he had been scheming to arrange this entire sequence of events. It would be so perfect! Royce's new wife, a little nobody whom no one had ever met or heard of and who had bewitched the foolish American, would mysteriously run away, and the poor, half-demented Manchester, unwilling to believe that she had deserted him, would frantically follow her ... and would never be seen again! Oh, but it was diabolically clever! A plan so very worthy of him!
Pouring himself another glass of whiskey, this time after taking time to admire the clarity of the amber liquid, a smug smile on his mouth, he sat down and contentedly sipped his drink. With Manchester dead and Morgana in his possession, he could arrange for a tragic accident to happen to Jacko—he wasn't about to run the risk of facing another incident like tonight's. And as for Ben ... He smiled. Newgate was
such
a dangerous place—who knew what could happen to a young man so unfortunate as to be incarcerated there? Sometimes people even
died
in Newgate.
Of course, he didn't expect Morgana to tamely fall in with his plans. She needn't know anything, and although she was bound to suspect that he had something to do with the sudden demise of all the men in her life, he was confident that after a few months of his most assiduous and, if necessary, brutal care, she would be quite amenable to forgetting all about Manchester and would be willing, nay, eager, to marry him. A quiet wedding, a leisurely honeymoon in Europe, and then this winter, at the height of the season, he would appear on the London scene with his bride at his side, the missing and long-thought-dead Devlin heiress! No longer would those haughty peers look down their aristocratic noses at him—he would be one of them, lifted to those highest circles of society by the blue blood of his lovely bride.
He spent several more pleasurable moments dwelling on the bright future that was going to be his before his thoughts turned to the Earl and Countess of Devlin. But even thinking about Stephen and Lucinda and the fact that they already knew Morgana was alive didn't dampen his gleeful mood. In a matter of hours, Morgana would be safely beyond their reach and would remain so until he was ready to put the final phase of his plan in action.
A short distance down the hall from where he sat happily contemplating the success that would soon be his, Stephen and Lucinda were in Stephen's room, and there was nothing particularly happy about either one of them. Stephen was clearly shattered by the news that not only was Morgana still alive, but she was married to Royce Manchester! Lucinda, her hazel eyes snapping with rage, was furious about the stunning turn of events, perhaps most of all for having let herself believe that Stephen's plan would work. But while Stephen could only envision their eventual exposure and disgrace, Lucinda was not about ready to let that happen!
Stephen was sitting despondently in a chair, oblivious to Lucinda's rantings as she stormed about the room, his mind dwelling painfully on the stark ruin that stared them in the face. There was no way out. His scheme to murder Morgana had obviously failed, and he dared not seek out Clara to discover what had gone wrong. And nothing, he thought with weary despair, could have gone
more
wrong than to have Morgana married to Royce Manchester! He was ruined! If only, he mused bitterly, I had not been so squeamish and had disposed of the child myself! But he had not, and now he was going to pay for his lack of fortitude. Aware of the horrible scandal that would eventually break over their heads, he felt a shudder of hopelessness rack his body. Stephen could not even bear to think of the stares and whispers, the icy condemnation, that would follow him, and he winced when he considered that more than likely, he would end out his days in prison for what he had done. No. He would kill himself before he would suffer such an ignoble fate!
Lucinda suddenly stopped her wild pacing and glared at her silent husband. “Have you even heard a word of what I've been saying?” she demanded angrily.
Stephen looked at her, feeling strangely detached from everything. “No,” he answered quietly. “But it doesn't matter anymore. We will be destroyed once Manchester introduces her to society—I suggest that in the meantime, you make whatever plans you feel are necessary for you and Julian.”
Lucinda stared at him, and her lip curled contemptuously. “I suppose you're simply going to give up? Hide your head and hope that everything will just go away? Well, it won't, my addlepated, bird-witted coxcomb! We have to
do
something!”
His mind already made up about what he would do, her insults rolled smoothly off his back, and with an odd calmness, he replied, “No, not we
—you
have to do something. Leave me out of it.”
Lucinda took a deep, furious breath. “All right!” she hissed. “I will take care of it—just as I have taken care of things in the past.” She sailed from the room, leaving Stephen to stare indifferently at the door that slammed shut behind her.
Nearly vibrating with fury, Lucinda raged around her own room as she considered the quickest and easiest method by which to get rid of Morgana. She would have to do it herself, she thought savagely, she dared not involve anyone else, and this time Hester's brat
would
die! Nothing was going to prevent Julian from inheriting what was rightfully his!
Nothing!
Events seemed surprisingly normal the next morning at Lime Tree Cottage, considering all that had happened over the past few days, and after breakfast, declining Royce's warm invitation to come for a drive with him, Morgana left him with Jack and Zachary and sought a few moments of quiet walking through the glorious garden at the rear of the house. For a bride of less than twenty-four hours, she was strangely pensive, and while marrying Royce resolved quite a few conflicts within her, she was increasingly troubled about the reasons for their hasty marriage. She didn't doubt that he enjoyed making love to her, and she wasn't so foolish not to realize that he had some measure of affection for her—but she couldn't help wondering about his motives for marrying a young woman of her station and circumstance,
especially
since he had never mentioned one word of love! Had the scar on her hip played any part in his reasons for marrying her? Was there something more that he wasn't telling her? Sighing, she pushed away her unprofitable thoughts and tried to focus on something more pleasant.
It can't be denied either that the attempt on her life preyed on her mind, and the fact that Jack had recognized the one-eyed man's voice last night hadn't helped to still the persistent fear that she would wake up soon and discover herself firmly in the power of the one-eyed man. Just knowing that he was here in the area frightened her, and coupled with the knowledge that someone wanted her dead, it was no wonder that she was not precisely the glowing bride one would expect.
Royce and the other two men left a short while later to drive into Tunbridge Wells to assess the results of last night's doings, and she was walking alone in the garden when Chambers approached her, a slight frown on his face. “Madam, this just arrived for you,” he murmured uncertainly. “John Bullard said a groom from the local stables delivered it to him and insisted that it be taken to you immediately. Said it was a matter of life and death!” His eyes troubled, he handed her a plain white envelope.
A feeling of premonition slid icily down her spine, but not willing for Chambers to see her agitation, she smiled serenely and, after taking the envelope, waved him on his way. Selecting a stone seat embraced by a bevy of spicily scented flowers, she sat down and, with trembling fingers, opened the envelope and took out the single sheet of paper.
Her gaze immediately fell to the signature, and her breath caught sharply in her throat at the sight of a crude drawing of a skull with one eye blacked out.
The one-eyed man!
Numbly she read the curtly worded note, hardly able, at first, to take in the terrible things it promised if she did not meet him near the small bridge just a half mile from the gatekeeper's cottage at five o'clock this evening. The one-eyed man swore to kill Royce, and Morgana never doubted that unless she met his demands, Royce would be a dead man! Her initial reaction was to confide in Royce, but before she had taken even one step toward the house, she remembered that Royce and the others had driven to Tunbridge Wells, and in that same split second she realized sickly that telling Royce was the
last
thing she could do. If Royce knew of the threats against him, he would prevent her from meeting the one-eyed man... .
Morgana knew the one-eyed man did not make idle threats and that if she wanted Royce to live, she had no choice but to meet him as he had demanded. She didn't come to that decision lightly, but when she had exhausted every avenue of escape that she could possibly think of, it all came down to this: Did she dare risk Royce's life? There was one and only one answer to that terrible question, and fatalistically she knew that nothing would stop her from waiting at that bridge at five o' clock this evening. Every nerve in her body rebelled against that idea, but with a dull sort of apathy, she accepted that it was her fate that in order to save the man she loved most in the world, she would have to return to the person she hated most in the world.
She had always suspected that this time with Royce was only a dreamlike interlude, that it would have to end someday. Deep inside of herself she'd known that, known that the joys and sweet memories of these wonderful weeks would have to last her forever. If she felt any surprise, it was only that the one-eyed man had waited this long before ripping her world asunder.
It wasn't until she was sitting at her dressing table, the note lying folded in the center of the table, thinking desperately of some lie to tell Royce that would insure she would be gone before he came looking for her, that it occurred to her that there was a way out she had not considered.
She
could kill the one-eyed man! It was worth a try, and if she failed ... She swallowed with difficulty. If she failed, it wouldn't matter anyway—her life would be over whether the one-eyed man killed her in a rage for daring to strike at him, or kept her alive and separated her from Royce.
Her decision made, she immediately began to consider how she was going to accomplish the act. A knife was the weapon with which she was most proficient, and it would be the easiest weapon to conceal on her body, and not willing to think upon it further, she went in search of one particular lethal instrument. The cottage had come equipped with a weapons collection, artfully displayed in a small room near the billiard room, and entering that room a few minutes later, she wandered about, checking all the various deadly instruments to be found there. It didn't take her very long to find precisely what she was looking for—a nicely balanced dagger from the seventeenth century. The slim, deadly weapon fit her hand nicely, and with a fierce smile of satisfaction, she slipped the dagger inside the small reticule she had brought with her in which to hide it.

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