Part 21 (1/2)

”Interesting theory. You also have a remarkable imagination. So why did John leave after Frederick's death?”

He frowned. ”Coincidence?”

”Unlikely. What about your tenants?”

”I had discounted them, for few of them can write and none well enough to impersonate a friend. But if someone was blackmailing him, then they will have to go back on the list.”

”But what had he done locally that might attract blackmail? He was rarely here. A blackmailer was more likely to come from elsewhere.”

He muttered what sounded like imprecations. ”Perhaps John killed Frederick. That would explain his flight. And if someone saw him, they might consider blackmail.”

”Which puts everyone on the list, not just the tenants.”

”That is true anyway. There is not a resident for miles who doesn't have a motive.”

”True. But which of them has the strength and accuracy to knock three men senseless with rocks?”

”Ouch!”

She raised her brows.

”I had not considered that particular skill, but it is crucial. I will have to inquire about who throws well. Yesterday's incident eliminates no one, for anyone in town would have had access to my phaeton. It was parked in an out-of-the-way corner of the inn's stable yard.”

”Speaking of the inn, what about Barnes? Both John and Frederick were there the night the fire started. And Barnes is both a champion quoits player and an accurate thrower. I saw him pick off a rabbit at twenty paces one day.”

”And he could tamper with my phaeton without drawing attention.”

She frowned. ”Not really. He is rarely in the stable yard, so draws the eyes of every groom when he appears.”

Another theory gone. ”Then there is Bridwell.”

”Did he have a complaint against Frederick?”

”I don't know, but he has a big one against me. I sent notice to the bishop yesterday that I wished to replace Bridwell with your brother. If he heard about the letter, he could easily guess at its contents.”

Howard would be pleased to have his own living, for it would allow him to wed. But James's voice deflected her thoughts, flowing over her like velvet and raising desire. Intimacy is beautiful... Warmth and yearning choked her breast. She wanted his arms around her, his lips on hers, his- Don't trust him! It's a trick! But the yearning increased, reminding her that life was empty, nights were long, and she had no one who could share her thoughts. Once the girls wed, she would have no one at all.

His words no longer made sense. She was falling into the rich depths of his eyes. His voice wove spells that bound her, paralyzed her, froze her thoughts. The warmth burst into flames, consuming her body. Not until he moved did she escape.

”I will let you know if I learn anything new,” he promised, standing.

She automatically rose. ”Thank you.” What else could she say? She had no idea what he proposed to do.

Her hand reached out, without thought. Smiling, he raised it to his lips, then bade her farewell. But his fingers lightly caressed her palm before he released her, weakening her knees. By the time she stiffened them, he was gone.

James kept his face solemn until he was away from the Manor, then he laughed. He had her. She was firmly hooked. All he had to do now was reel her in.

He s.h.i.+fted in the saddle. He would have stayed longer, but caution had sent him away. In another minute, he would have swept her into his arms-and would have terrified her into locking the doors against him.

She cared. She wanted him as much as he wanted her, but the fear still lurked. Desire had shoved it aside for one glorious moment, but he had not yet won the battle. It was that naked yeanling that had eroded his control. Without her fear to hold him at bay, he didn't trust himself.

He groaned.

He might be frustrated out of his mind right now, but he had to keep it slow. At least she had granted him a dance.

He pulled his mind away from long legs and a generous bosom, unclenching his stomach muscles in his effort to relax. She had thought of possibilities he had not considered, giving him yet more paths to follow. Investigating those would keep him occupied.

The man stared into the fire, cursing his failure. The cut had been too shallow.

Sawing that axle had been risky, for he had been in a public place in broad daylight. The specter of eyes boring into his back had made his hands shake. And his fear of exposure had made him flee before testing his work.

And so he had failed.

It was time to end it. Long past time. He could no longer rely on an accident. This last effort would raise suspicions anyway. He doubted Ridgeway would consider the cut a prank.

So no more chances. Their next encounter would be decisive. And he had little to fear. No one connected him with John's death. No one suspected that Northrup's accident had been well-deserved retribution. Ridgeway's demise would cause talk, but it should not affect him.

Soon it would be over. Soon he could find peace. Soon...

Sir Richard and Lady Redfield considered themselves the luckiest of hosts. Not only were they holding the first formal gathering since word had spread of the Northrup betrothals, but they had no marriageable daughters, so they were not bemoaning the loss of the most eligible gentlemen to appear in Ridge-field in some time. Pity the poor women who were sponsoring elaborate entertainments but now had no chance of snaring a match. Few considered Ridgeway a viable choice. Of course, there was still Northrup. Three-and-twenty wasn't that young. Seven years of military life had aged him.

Mary smiled as Lucy Granger batted her lashes at Justin. The girl was on her best behavior tonight, determined to erase the memory of her last public appearance.

Lady Redfield did not call her modest gathering a ball. Instead, she had patterned her evening after the informal waltzing parties that were all the rage in London. A full quarter of the sets were waltzes, though she included many other steps in deference to country sensibilities.

Mary had made a point of disapproving the waltz since the first military man returning from the Continent had described it. Allowing a gentleman to hold her in his arms was a repugnant idea, but tonight she perversely wished to partic.i.p.ate. James danced divinely, and his arms would have been welcome.

Or so that insidious voice insisted. She couldn't get rid of the plaguey thing, proving that James had already seduced her conscience. Would her body be next?

”Scandalous!” hissed Miss Hardaway from the next chair. ”I never thought to see your charges waltzing.”

”Nor I, but I could hardly refuse them permission to dance with their betrotheds, and Justin had already agreed.”

”Of course a man would agree,” said Miss Hardaway. ”My sister in Southampton tells me scandalous tales about officers.”

”Who is betrothed?” interrupted Miss Sharpe. ”Why was I not told?”

”She never remembers anything.” Miss Hardaway sounded pleased.

”Amelia has accepted Mr. Crenshaw, and Caroline is to wed Sir Edwin,” Mary explained. ”Those are the gentlemen who are dancing with them right now.”

”How delighted you must be.” Miss Sharpe actually clapped her hands.