Part 11 (2/2)
”How do you know?”
”I've known him since birth, and his wife was a good friend. In Frederick's case, he confronted a drunken corpse at the bottom of the quarry-an obvious accident. I asked him if the road showed marks of rolling or sliding. He refused to answer. ”
James frowned. ”You want to know if he was dragged to the edge.”
”Exactly. If he was, then you are right, and he was probably murdered. If not, we have no evidence one way or the other. Now Isaac may just be sparing my female sensibilities, but I fear he never looked.”
”He looked at everything in John's case.”
”Perhaps. A simpleton could see that John was murdered. People do not stab themselves, particularly when their arms are bound. But he may have overlooked something. His initial a.s.sumption was that a highwayman did it. He did not start looking at other possibilities for several days.”
”Despite the fact that every piece of evidence disproved that the culprit was a vagabond.” He snorted. ”I had wondered why he spent so much time chasing phantoms, though he pa.s.sed it off by claiming the man might have followed John from London.”
”Possible, but that seems unlikely now. I cannot accept your attack as another incident like Will's.” The reminder drew her eyes to his temple, but he had shed his bandage and combed his hair over the cut.
”So we must start at the beginning. And that means going back at least a year. What do you know about your husband's death?”
”No more than I already told you. Frederick drank too much, then insisted on riding to Ridgeway. Isaac found the horse wandering alone and recognized it as Frederick's-it had a white face that was hard to miss. The patrons at the l.u.s.ty Maiden confirmed that Frederick was heading for Ridgeway, so he took three grooms and followed, finding him in the bottom of the quarry.”
”Three grooms?”
”And a wagon. Frederick had grown rather stout. They took him back to the inn and cleaned him up, but I've no idea what injuries he suffered, for I never saw the body. Isaac refused to let me in-those female sensibilities again.” Why hadn't she recognized that proprietary att.i.tude then? But she had been in shock.
”The conjecture was that he either dismounted or fell from his horse?”
”Exactly. Since there was no sign that he had dismounted to cast up his accounts, Isaac decided he had pa.s.sed out. He made no attempt to discover whether he had rolled into the quarry when he fell, or if he stumbled in when he later tried to reach Ridgeway on foot.”
”Surely he checked the road, though.”
”I doubt it, but you can ask. Justin will demand details of Frederick's injuries-Isaac will not be able to duck that question. An army officer won't be squeamish, and a brother has every right to know. Not that I expect the condition of the body to help much. That fall would have covered any trace of a blow.”
”Or explained it.” He bit his lip, lowering his voice so it wouldn't carry. ”I have been debating whether to tell Isaac about the attack on me. He might have some idea who was behind it, but talking about it would alert the culprit that I know what happened.”
”Unless it was unplanned, he must already know. A killer would have watched to make sure you landed in the quarry. He could hardly expect me to remain quiet about how I found you.”
”So I need to speak to Isaac. Perhaps I can draw parallels to Frederick's accident and find out more about it. And if Northrup also asks, it might force Isaac to rethink his ideas.”
”You can try, but I doubt it.”
They dropped the subject, talking instead about the beauties of the day and speculating on the surprise Lady Granger had promised to produce after eating. The change in focus relaxed her-until she realized that James had placed a hand on her back to guide her up the hill. Unwanted warmth flooded her, trapping b.u.t.terflies in her stomach.
He knew exactly what he was doing, she fumed, stepping aside so his hand dropped. She could see the laughter lurking behind those quizzical eyes. Men were all alike. They didn't care who they hurt as long as they satisfied their urges.
She s.h.i.+vered.
If he persisted, she must decline to help him investigate. As long as their contact focused on business, she was safe. But allowing a resumption of their old friends.h.i.+p was dangerous. It should never have started the first time.
But perhaps she had been wrong. He made no move to touch her again. Instead he drew her laughter with an improbable story about a Neapolitan donkey and a mountain of switches.
James dropped his hand, allowing Mary to slide another step away. She was an enigma he found more fascinating every day, especially now that he had laid his final suspicions to rest.
As he had lain awake last night, tormented by that mention of a beauty mark, he had suddenly seen it for himself-a reddish brown splash on her right hip, shaped vaguely like England.
He'd nearly kicked himself for mistrusting his instincts. Yes, John had seen it. So had he, Isaac, and a couple of tenant lads. They had been playing in the forest when Mary's pony charged along the trail, tossing her into the ford and tearing her dress half off. She had been six.
He had ignored her half-nude body in his rush to save her from drowning. But John had never forgotten. Twelve years later he had used the memory to concoct a lie that hurt James, Mary, and probably her father.
Retribution for backing James's suggestions for the estate?
He shook his head.
It didn't matter now. Mary was innocent. So why did she cringe from his touch even as she welcomed his company?
He had rested his hand on her back because he enjoyed fl.u.s.tering her. His growing desire was strong enough that he needed this sign that she returned his interest. But his pleasure died the moment he met her eyes.
Yes, she was fl.u.s.tered. Her attraction showed in the heat that had softened their color. But she was also terrified.
Fool! He should have seen it before-would have if his thoughts had not been tied up in John's lies. The slightest sign of affection, the briefest contact, sent her skittering away- physically if she could manage it, but always mentally. Frederick must have hurt her.
Every muscle tensed. Frustration fizzled along his nerves, combined with a protectiveness that surprised him. If anything, he wanted her more than ever. But he could not touch her again until she learned to trust him.
So he entertained her by describing the silliest sights he had seen on his travels. When she had relaxed once more, he recounted some of the world's wonders-the Austrian Alps, the pyramids of Egypt, India's pearl, divers...
But keeping his hands to himself wasn't easy. Her scent surrounded him. A gust of wind pressed her gown close, revealing every detail of those long, long legs. A tantalizing glimpse of shapely ankles pooled heat in his groin that made walking difficult.
He wanted to help her surmount her fears. He wanted to see those blue eyes glaze with pa.s.sion, feel her skin against his own, hear her moans...
But thinking about it would drive him insane-and reveal his desires to the world if he did not get his body under control. At least her refusal to look at him kept her from noticing his problem.
”A race,” he said, pointing to three boats on the lake below as they emerged from the trees.
”It's Amelia and Caroline.”
”And Miss Granger.”
Mary grinned at his lack of enthusiasm.
”Who is rowing her?”
She shaded her eyes. ”Colonel Davis's grandson.”
”Why isn't he on the Peninsula with his father?”
”The two older boys are, but Vincent is the family black sheep.”
He laughed. ”What did he do?”
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