Leo lost the bidding to another man. The victorious bidder swished his maroon cloak aside and pushed his way to the dais to receive his prize. The man conducting the bidding produced a key from his pocket and, with great ceremony, unlocked the cage.
He reached inside and took Ella’s hand. She stumbled as she exited, only her contact with the man helping her to maintain her footing. The man handed her off to the winning bidder, sending her on her way with a familiar pat on the arse.
Leo plunged through the crowd, shoving his way past the masked men and women. Instead of stopping at one of the cells, the man towed Ella from the ruins and lifted her into a waiting carriage.
“Damn.” He’d tethered his horse over the hill out of sight. Leo raced to catch up. For a while he managed to keep up with the carriage but once the road leveled, the horses increased their speed from a trot to a canter.
In desperation, Leo cut across the moor. He plunged through a copse of trees and ran around piles of stones. The contour of the land changed radically, but the steep slope barely gave him pause. He raced down, desperate to cut off the carriage before he lost sight of it. Mud splattered his evening clothes. His cloak flared out behind him, his pistol thumping against his hip in painful digs.
Gasping for breath, he screeched to a halt with the carriage almost on him. Glad of the mask, he pulled out his pistol and stood square in the middle of the road.
Now that Leo was closer he recognized the matching chestnut horses—Sir James Harvey. Leo knew him as a man who treasured his reputation. That might work to Leo’s advantage.
The driver glimpsed him, noted his raised pistol and visibly hesitated. The team shied and slowed.
“Stand and deliver.”
The driver hauled on the reins, slowing his team further.
Keeping a wary eye on him, Leo opened the carriage door and brandished his weapon. “Out.”
“We have nothing to steal.” The masculine voice contained a thread of fear. Not such a rake now.
“Get out of the carriage.” Sir James obeyed, albeit unwillingly. “I’ll take your money pouch,” Leo said, taking care to lower the timbre of his voice. “Who is inside the carriage with you?”
“No one important.”
“Out.” Leo gestured with his pistol. When Ella didn’t stir, Leo pointed his weapon at the baronet. Stealing the carriage wouldn’t work. Everyone would know it was Harvey’s carriage. He’d have to get Ella away on foot. “Both of you—out of the carriage.”
The man cursed under his breath. “You won’t get away with this.”
“Do it. Now.” Leo tensed, watchful and ready for Sir James to make his move.
Sir James took a step toward the carriage and spun around, springing at Leo without warning. Leo blocked a punch and backhanded the man. Shorter and slimmer than Leo, he was no physical match. Leo’s second punch knocked him cold. The man fell to the side of the road and didn’t stir when Leo kicked him with the toe of his boot. He wrenched the maroon cloak off the man and rapidly amended his plan. He reached inside the carriage and covered Ella with Harvey’s cloak. She didn’t react.
Scowling, Leo closed the carriage door and climbed up beside the driver. “Drive us down the road.”
The driver clicked his tongue, urging his horses into motion. In tense silence, the horses trotted down the narrow lane. They slowed at a hill and at the top Leo ordered the driver to halt.
“Wait while I get the passenger. Once we’re gone you can return to collect your master.”
The driver gave a curt nod, and some of the tension released from Leo’s shoulders. He swung down and wrenched open the door. Ella lay sprawled along the seat, the drug or whatever they’d given her still in her system.
“Easy there, I’m not going to hurt you.” Leo moved cautiously, not wanting to traumatize her anymore than she was already. To his relief, she scarcely blinked as he scooped her into his arms and backed from the carriage.
With rapid steps he carried her into the cover of trees, out of sight of the driver. He paused and set her on her feet, while waiting for the man to drive off. After several long moments, he heard the driver’s guttural click to the horses and the creak of the carriage. Still not safe, but at least he’d managed to grab Ella.
She lay passive in his arms, her face a deathly white. Each of her breaths came in a shallow pant. Leo hastened his steps. The walk to Merrivale was a long one, and treacherous, since he’d need to keep to the back paths and cut across the moor. They’d traveled a fair way from the abbey already. Better to collect his horse in the morning.
“Can you walk?”
Ella stared at him, not appearing to comprehend. She hadn’t recognized him, and he was thankful for the mask screening most of his face.
Leo grasped her arm and took two steps. She staggered and would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. He cursed under his breath and swept her into his arms. With a purposeful stride, he followed the narrow sheep track through the trees and deeper onto the moor.
Dartmoor was a silent place in the small hours of the morning—inhospitable and unforgiving to the naïve.
“At least there’s a little moonlight,” he said.
Ella didn’t reply, but she was awake, her eyes wide and staring. Leo frowned and cautiously moved down a sheep track. He set one boot down after another, testing his footing before distributing his full weight.
Time passed and clouds skittered across the moon, plunging the moors into darkness. Leo spat out an oath, took two steps and stumbled. He staggered, thankfully regaining his balance. Part of him wanted to take shelter and wait out the rest of the night. It wasn’t safe. Sir James would have raised the alarm now. He mightn’t feel he could make a report to the parish constable, but he could seek help from his fellow monks.
Doggedly, Leo trudged along the track, aided only by his night vision. As they crested a hill, the wind struck them, biting cold despite the summer month. The trail ended abruptly, and he hesitated, unfamiliar with the terrain in this area. He took two steps and sank to his knees in bog. Ella’s extra weight threw him off, sending him lurching forward. She screamed when he sprawled on top of her. She struggled weakly, wriggling beneath him, sobs of terror filling his ears. Each frantic move sucked her deeper into the bog.
Water and mud soaked into their clothes, splashed their faces. And the entire time Ella thrashed. Leo attempted to soothe her, but like a terrified horse she fought wildly, placing them both in danger.
No time for him to panic. He battled mud, backing cautiously away from Ella. His pulse raced, urgency thrumming through him. Damn. He didn’t intend to die in the night, sucked under by a Dartmoor bog. He kept edging away, an inch at a time.
It took him a moment to realize he’d hit firm ground. Thank God. Trembling, he turned his attention to retrieving Ella.
He groped in the mud for her hand, gave up and grabbed one of her legs despite the impropriety.
“Help.” Her cry was weak, ineffectual.
“Cease your wriggling.” He’d had his fill of screeching females. After making sure he had solid purchase, he put some muscle into his yank. She freed her leg and kicked him square in the chest. He grunted and maintained his grip.
“Damn, woman. Stop fighting. I’m trying to help you.” He heaved again, and she came free, sending him tumbling onto his arse.
They landed in an ungainly heap, Leo cursing again when her foot made contact with his balls. He grasped her arms and pushed her forcibly away before the ungrateful woman made a eunuch of him.
Her screech cut off abruptly, and she curled up like a hedgehog under attack. Understandable after what she’d suffered.
The moon peeked from behind a cloud, allowing him to see more of their surroundings. The nearby pile of rocks would offer shelter from the wind until daylight broke.
Gripping Ella’s arm, he dragged her toward the tor, relief striking him once they reached protection.
“Let me go.” Ella wrenched her arm from his touch, eyes fearful and still showing no recognition of him. “Please let me go.”
Leo gave her the illusion of freedom, but watched her closely in case she decided to bolt. Her slight body tensed and she tried to stand. Her legs failed, toppling her back to the ground. He winced at the loud clunk and her groan of pain. But at least she ceased her fidgeting.
Exhausted, Leo scanned their surroundings, searching the gloom for danger.
The hours passed, and gradually faint rays of sunshine lightened the horizon. In the growing daylight, he studied Ella. Pale and thin, her eyes were closed and purple shadows highlighted her exhaustion. A trail of dried blood decorated her right temple and ear.
Now able to discern the borders of the bog, he nudged Ella awake. Her eyes opened, and she climbed sluggishly to her feet, teetering the whole time. Her gaze remained unfocused, confused. What the hell had they done to her?
Taking her arm, he skirted the marsh, relieved when they reached safe ground. This time she didn’t struggle, merely let him lead her. Leo picked his way through the landscape, using both vision and gut instinct to guide them to safety.
A holler drifted to him. Leo froze and scanned their surroundings, finally making out two figures in the distance. Damn, this was going to complicate matters. The shout sounded again, and he ripped off his mask, shoving it into the waistband of his breeches.
Leo started walking again, half dragging the girl when she stumbled. She fell, and he wrenched her arm, trying to help her regain her footing.
She whimpered, her eyes wide in an ashen face. “Don’t hurt me. Please let me go!”
Leo released her arm, and she dropped to the ground. The air whooshed out of her, and when he offered a hand to help her up, she cringed and let out another whimper.
“Oy, you there! Leave her alone.”
Leo recognized the voice and backed away.
“Turn around. Put your hands above your head where I can see them.”
Leo complied, angling his body to face Captain Cartwright, the parish constable.
“What are you doing with this girl?” Cartwright asked, his face devoid of expression.
“It’s not the baker’s daughter,” the village blacksmith said, his eyes narrowing, large body poised to attack. “But seems the rumors are true.” He lunged at Leo, ham fists swinging.
Pain struck Leo’s shoulder, the force of the blacksmith’s blow sending him off balance. He tripped on a stone and staggered. The blacksmith darted forward to repeat the punch, but Cartwright gripped his arm and wrenched him to a stop.
“Wait,” he said harshly.
“He’s a murderer.”
“Wait,” Cartwright repeated.
Leo fingered his jaw while meeting Cartwright’s gaze. “This is Ella, the maid missing from Merrivale.” He climbed gingerly to his feet, keeping a wary eye on the blacksmith.
“Murderer,” the blacksmith snarled, and he turned his back on Leo and Cartwright to help Ella. She flinched when Leo moved, shaking her head back and forth, distressed moans issuing from her. Her cries made the hair at the back of Leo’s neck prickle.
“She’s terrified of you,” the blacksmith said.
“I didn’t spirit her away.” Leo stretched out a pleading hand to Ella. “Tell them.”
But instead of clearing his name, Ella started screaming, and she didn’t stop for a long, long time.
“Tell me again,” Captain Cartwright said.
They’d arrived back at Merrivale and given the care of Ella over to Jocelyn and Susan before adjourning to Leo’s study. Now Leo paced from one side of his study to the other, his fists clenched at his sides. When he spun about to face Cartwright, he noticed the watchful air of the constable and forced himself to relax. “Would you like a drink?”
“No, thank you. Tell me about finding Ella.”
“You think I murdered those two women.”
Cartwright’s bushy brows rose. “Did you?”
“No! I did not.” Leo sank onto a chair, trying to maintain a calm air. Everyone thought the worst of him. Even his wife refused to meet his gaze. He took a deep breath and recounted his experience for the second time.
Cartwright nodded slowly when Leo finished. “I’d prefer you to keep this close to your chest until I have time to investigate.”
“So you believe me?”
“I didn’t say that.” Cartwright’s bushy moustache twitched, and Leo straightened abruptly, aiming a glower at the man. “I’ve seen the worst of men in my duties as constable. I like to gather the facts before I pass a judgment, especially one that would sentence a man to the gallows.”
“I did not murder Ursula or the woman I discovered in the maze. You know I didn’t murder Ursula.”
“But you had the opportunity, which is why I’m going to take you into custody.”
Leo leaped to his feet, no longer able to contain himself. “Everyone will think I’m guilty.”
“Exactly,” Cartwright said. “We’re going to flush out the guilty party.”
Leo gaped at Cartwright. “We?”
“I’ve known you for a long time, Sherbourne. I’d understand if you’d murdered your wife because she was a bitch.” He made the sign of a cross. “But you have a creditable alibi for the time after you argued. You didn’t, as far as I can fathom, have any reason to kill the first maid. And I doubt you’d be stupid enough to wander the moors in the middle of the night with Ella if you had nefarious intentions. You’re an intelligent man. If you were the guilty party you’d have a plan for every contingency. And that’s why you’re going to help me catch the murderer and put a stop to the orgies going on in the abbey.”
“How is Anna?”
“My stepsister has caught the eye of Lord Lawtin.” Clear relief sounded in Cartwright’s voice. “I’m hopeful of an offer. Let another man have the reins,” he said gruffly.
“What a pity,” Leo said, unable to resist a sly dig at the parish constable. “We had a rather delightful time—”
“That’s enough.” Cartwright slashed his hand through the air. “Don’t think I’m happy my stepsister is your alibi for the night of Ursula’s murder. Push me hard enough, and I might conveniently forget the truth.”
Leo sighed, his shoulders slumping. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”
Late evening, four days later, jail cell, Captain Cartwright’s house.
Leo picked up his glass of whisky and gulped some down. What a bloody week. Everyone thought he was a murderer and Jocelyn…
He set his glass down and rubbed his chest, but the empty ache remained. Jocelyn had looked at him with her big blue eyes, a combination of disappointment and dread shining in them, then she’d turned her back and walked away. The slight had cut, made him shrivel inside. It bloody hurt—the knowledge she thought him capable of killing for pleasure.
Arabella believed him innocent. She’d visited him, ready to protest and do whatever it took to get him released, even put off her return to Spain. He’d had to tell her the truth, swearing her to secrecy, before she’d consent to leave Merrivale as planned. His cousin was an attractive woman, and he’d hate to have her in harm’s way. No, it was best for her to leave for Spain. It was distressing enough worrying about Jocelyn and the rest of the female servants.
A key turned in the lock and Cartwright entered the cell adjoining his house where Leo was kept incarcerated for appearance’s sake. “Are you ready to leave?”
“We’ll probably find nothing.” Each night since his arrest, they’d kept watch on the abbey. So far they’d discovered nothing suspicious. Meantime, the locals were baying for his blood, and Cartwright had hired more men to keep watch in case the villagers decided to take things into their own hands. “Did my wife send a message?”
Cartwright’s hesitation was all the reply Leo required. Jocelyn believed the stories and his imprisonment served as confirmation of his guilt. The only person, aside from Arabella, who seemed to believe in him was Hannah. She visited him each day, filling him in on the gossip and public opinion.
Leo swallowed the last of his whisky. “Where are we going tonight?”
“I thought we’d stake out Sir Harvey’s property. I want to see if he has visitors.”
Interest stirred in Leo. “You think he might entertain them at the abbey?”
“It occurred to me.”
“He wasn’t the man in charge on the night. It was someone else. I didn’t recognize his voice.”
“He could have disguised his voice.”
Leo shrugged. “What about other locals?”
“Peregrine Richards?”
“I don’t know. There were women present. Some were prostitutes, and they didn’t wear masks, but there were other women who wore masks to obscure their identities. That says to me they have a reason to hide their faces.”
“Were you invited to join in with the…festivities?”
“Yes,” Leo said instantly. “I declined. The only reason I became suspicious was because I came across a large number of footprints, hoof marks and carriage tracks while I was helping the shepherds muster sheep. It roused my curiosity, and I decided to investigate. I came across sheep entrails.” Leo frowned. “Is it possible they’re doing some sort of ritual? Could that explain the missing women? Some are sold and others are used in the ritual?”
“A sacrifice?” Cartwright rubbed his chin. “We both saw the blood on the ground. The woman dumped in your maze bore stab wounds to the chest area. It’s possible, I suppose.”
“Unless someone is rustling, butchering the sheep to sell at the local markets. I don’t know,” Leo said. “We’ve discussed the topic to death.”
“We’re close. My gut tells me this.”
“I’d feel better if the locals weren’t baying for my blood.” And if he could see Jocelyn, to explain. Cartwright didn’t want him to confide in anyone, and while part of him understood, he wished he could speak with his wife.
“Put this on,” Cartwright said, tossing a black cloak and mask at him. “We’ll go prepared again.”
Leo donned the cloak and stuffed the mask in the top of his breeches, ready to grab in case of need. “Are we walking again?”
“We’ll take the horses part way and leave them on the boundary of Harvey’s property. Walk the rest of the way.”
Leo nodded and followed the parish constable from the cell.
“Wait in the study while I distract the watchmen.”
Leo did as he was bade, all the while praying they’d find proof to clear his name. He wanted to sleep in his own bed with his wife curled in his arms.
Glimmers of sunshine crept through a sliver between the curtains, waking Jocelyn from a light slumber. She kicked off the remaining covers and sat, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
A brief tap on the door announced her maid’s arrival. At Jocelyn’s invitation, Susan entered. She set down her tray and poured a dish of tea. “Miss Hannah and Master Peregrine sent word they intend to call this morning.”
Jocelyn grimaced. Their departure always left Cassie unsettled and rebellious. Since the parish constable arrested Leo for murder, Merrivale Manor had received many callers. Everyone wanted to poke and pry before they dashed off to whisper about the wife of the murderer. “The vicar and his wife intend to visit this morning too.”
“I had best get you dressed then, Mrs. Sherbourne. Which gown would you like to wear?”
“The pale blue with stripes, I think. How is Ella?”
Tears filled Susan’s eyes. “She lies in bed all day and refuses to talk. She won’t even speak to me, and we were always close.”
Jocelyn reached for Susan’s hands and gave them a gentle squeeze. “I’m so sorry. I…” What could she say when her husband was the responsible party? It galled that she’d misread his character so badly. “Please let me know if I can do anything to help. Anything at all.” Somehow she managed the words, when her throat ached and her chest felt so tight she wondered if she might snap under the strain. She hadn’t contacted Melburn yet, putting off the task of writing the missive. Soon Leo would appear before a Justice of the Peace and then—
She abruptly cut off the thought. “Yes, the blue gown today please, Susan.”
Half an hour later Jocelyn left her chamber. She checked with Tilly and found her mother stitching another gown for Cassie’s doll. Her mother seemed happy, showing no evidence of her earlier screaming fit. “Did you have a good night, Mother?”
“I only heard the ghost once,” she said. “He tapped on my window.”
“Oh?” Jocelyn glanced at Tilly and received a shrug.
“I told him to go away, and he did.”
“That’s good,” Jocelyn said. “You should tell him the same thing next time too.” Inwardly, she sighed. Her mother’s room was on the second floor. It would take an acrobat to knock on her window.
“Yes, it worked well. I’ll definitely do that if I see the ghost again.” Elizabeth held up a tiny green dress. “What do you think?”
“It’s beautiful. I wish I had your talent with a needle and thread,” Jocelyn said.
A maid tapped on the door. “The vicar is here.”
“I’ll be there shortly. Please let Mrs. Green know we’ll need refreshments.”
The maid bustled away to undertake the chore.
“They’ll be coming to ask you about the Harvest festival,” Tilly said.
“What festival?”
“The Sherbournes have always hosted a summer festival. I understand they stopped after Mr. Sherbourne married his first wife.”
“Go on,” Jocelyn prompted, glad of a distraction. “Mrs. Allenby hasn’t mentioned the topic. Tell me everything you know.”
Tilly hesitated, looking unhappy. “According to gossip, the festival went ahead the first year Mr. Sherbourne married. Mrs. Sherbourne created a scene—the first Mrs. Sherbourne, that is. Some of her friends came down from London. They were rude and one of them tried to force their attentions on a local girl. That’s all I know.”
“I suppose I’d better go and find out what they want,” Jocelyn said. “A gathering might be fun. Mother, I’ll see you later. If the weather stays fine we can go for a walk in the garden this afternoon.”
Elizabeth clapped her hands. “Oh, yes. I’d like that.”
Jocelyn pasted a welcoming smile on her face and sailed into the parlor where Vicar and Mrs. Allenby were waiting for her. “How are you? I’m so pleased you dropped by to visit. Do have a seat. Will you take refreshments?”
“That would be most pleasant,” Mrs. Allenby said. “Thank you.”
“We were lucky with the weather,” the vicar said. “I thought the mist might settle and keep us confined indoors for the day.”
Mrs. Allenby nodded, the trim on her blue hat bobbing erratically with every jolt of her head. “We have been lucky recently. During the winter, the fog comes down and doesn’t lift for days.”
“Something for me to look forward to,” Jocelyn said, taking a seat. They passed pleasantries and danced around the subject of Leo until Jocelyn’s mouth ached with smiling. The maid’s arrival with a tray of refreshments provided a respite, and Jocelyn busied herself pouring glasses of the cook’s sweet lemon drink. She passed a glass to Mrs. Allenby, glancing up as she did so. A face wavered in the window.
One from her nightmares.
She gasped, fumbling the glass. It slipped from her grasp, and the contents splattered the Oriental rug.
Mrs. Allenby lurched to her feet as splashes struck her skirts.
Jocelyn shot off her chair. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually this clumsy.” She rang for a maid and risked a frantic glance at the window.
Boynton.
He’d found her.
A maid appeared, and Jocelyn issued instructions. He had seen her at Tavistock and followed her home. He’d always been sly. The hair at the back of her neck rose, and she fought to still the tremor of her hand as she helped Mrs. Allenby sponge the stain from her gown. Boynton was likely enjoying his furtive game, stalking her as if she were a helpless mouse.
“I’m so embarrassed,” Jocelyn said, taking another peek at the window. “I don’t know what happened.” It hadn’t been her imagination. Had Boynton been the one terrorizing her mother? Perhaps he was the ghost.
“No apologies necessary.” The vicar patted her hand. “You’ve been under a lot of strain recently.”
“Of course you don’t need to apologize,” Mrs. Allenby agreed. “Have you seen Leo?”
“No.” Jocelyn straightened in her chair, determined to hold her composure.
The maid exited and everyone settled again. Jocelyn kept glancing out the window. She wanted to confront the wretched man and demand he leave her alone. Surely she had enough to deal with at present?
The clearing of a throat jerked her attention back to her guests. She forced a smile and focused on them.
“There,” the vicar said. “I knew she’d approve of the idea.”
Oh, dear. That was what happened when a person didn’t pay attention. “I’m sorry,” Jocelyn said. “I haven’t been sleeping well, and I’m a bit scattered today. What were you saying?”
“The Harvest Festival is a Sherbourne tradition,” the vicar said. “It would be good to have it back at Merrivale Manor.”
“We thought the gathering would help things return to normal,” Mrs. Allenby said, sympathy filling her eyes. “I understand this situation is difficult for you, and that many of the villagers are treating you as guilty too, but the festival might be the thing to cement your presence here. Once Leo…” She trailed off, her gaze darting away while a red tide surged into her wrinkled face. Mrs. Allenby inhaled deeply. “This is your home. We are your friends, my dear. If you act normally, the villagers might get past their distrust of you.”
Everything Mrs. Allenby said was true. When…when Leo was gone, Merrivale would belong to her. Melburn was Leo’s nearest kin, and she was confident he’d allow her to remain in the house. Yes, they were right. Maybe she’d redeem herself a little instead of appearing a total lackwit. “Did the festival take place last year?”
The vicar’s nose twitched in clear distaste. “At Castle Hartscombe.”
Oh dear. “I can’t give you a definitive answer today. Let me consider it overnight, and I’ll send a footman with my decision.”
“If you won’t host the festival, we won’t have one,” Mrs. Allenby said.
Jocelyn’s brows rose. It was what Mrs. Allenby didn’t say that prompted intrigue. “Oh?”
“The goings on at Castle Hartscombe during the last festival were scandalous. Hannah and Peregrine invited guests from London.” Mrs. Allenby pressed her lips together then made a faint tsk of disapproval.
“The visitors behaved badly. Very badly.” The vicar’s wig slipped a fraction to the side during his vigorous nodding. “It was a disgrace.”
“I’ll send word of my decision tomorrow,” Jocelyn repeated.
“Thank you. That’s all we ask,” Mrs. Allenby said.
A brief tap on the door sounded seconds before it burst open.
“We’re here,” Hannah trilled. “It’s such a beautiful day we thought we’d take Cassie riding. Oh.” Her hand flew up to cover her mouth. “We’re interrupting your visit.”
Peregrine stepped into the parlor behind his sister. A languid figure in white and maroon trimming today, he smiled broadly and the flash of his teeth competed with the sparkling silver embroidery on his vest. “Vicar. Mrs. Allenby. It must be time to discuss this year’s Harvest Festival. We’re looking forward to hosting it at the castle again.”
Mrs. Allenby drew herself up, the steely glint in her eyes failing to hide her dislike. “We have asked Mrs. Sherbourne to host the festival at Merrivale Manor.”
Hannah’s brows rose in surprise. “Do you think that’s appropriate with Leo in jail for murder? Surely it would be better to remain in seclusion.” The consummate actress, she gave a delicate shudder. “I know I wouldn’t risk further gossip. Isn’t your reputation stained enough already?”
Peregrine glanced from his sister to Jocelyn and back with avid interest, treating their conversation like a bear baiting.
“Leo said he never wanted to hold the gathering again,” Peregrine said.
“He was most definite on that point,” Hannah agreed.
Jocelyn shot a reproving glance at the vicar who had the grace to flush. They’d left out vital facts during their request.
Mrs. Allenby shot back. “He said that because—”
“Mrs. Allenby,” the vicar said in an unusually sharp voice. He pushed to his feet. “It is time for us to leave. I have several parishioners to visit this morning.” He turned to Jocelyn. “You’ll let us know?”
Jocelyn inclined her head, unwilling to inflame Hannah and Peregrine further. Thankfully Cassie arrived, diverting attention. Hannah cooed over her niece’s brand new red dress while Jocelyn escorted the vicar and his wife out and bid them farewell.
Before reentering the parlor, she glanced through a window overlooking the garden and saw nothing out of place. Had she imagined the face at the window? Boynton had seemed so real, even down to his carefully tied cravat and elaborately embroidered black waistcoat, his immaculate wig atop a ruddy face. Deep in unhappy thoughts, she joined Hannah and Peregrine.
“You don’t want to go to the trouble of organizing the festival,” Hannah said. “Especially not at present. It wouldn’t seem right to have a celebration at Merrivale when you’re… Let’s face it. You’re married to a murderer. Do you want to face the public?”
“Are you taking Cassie riding?” Jocelyn asked.
“Leo said it’s all right to take out Cassie,” Hannah said, a trifle defensively.
“Hannah will lead Cassie around on the pony,” Peregrine said. “Don’t worry. She’ll be perfectly safe. Besides, Cassie has natural talent. She takes after Ursula with her love of horseflesh.”
“It’s me you need to ask,” Jocelyn said, keeping her voice mild when she wanted to scream with vexation. “Until it is decided otherwise, I am responsible for Cassie’s wellbeing.”
“I—”
“Hannah.” Peregrine squeezed his sister’s shoulder in warning.
“We’ll see about that!” With a backward glare, Hannah ushered Cassie outside, and Jocelyn and Peregrine trailed after them.
Irked by Hannah’s attitude, Jocelyn wished Hannah would quit trying to get one up on her all the time. Now that Leo… She broke off the thought and forced herself to concentrate on Peregrine. “Everyone says Cassie looks like her mother.”
Peregrine laughed. “You’re lucky she doesn’t have the same temper tantrums.”
“Ursula had tantrums?”
“Oh, yes.” Peregrine shook his head ruefully. “If everything was going her way, she was all smiles and charm. The minute someone didn’t do as Ursula wanted, watch out!”
Jocelyn sucked in a quick breath. “What happened to Ursula?”
Peregrine came to an abrupt halt. “What do you mean?”
“How did Ursula die?”
His ever-present smile faded, and he scanned their vicinity before turning back to her.
This was a time for bluntness. “Why do the locals think Leo killed her?”
“She’d been strangled.” The lack of emotion in his voice told of pain. “People heard them arguing only two hours earlier.”
“But no one saw Leo do it. What did Leo say?”
Peregrine’s mouth twisted. “He denied doing it, but of course he’s now in jail awaiting trial.”
Something she couldn’t stop thinking about, her feelings conflicted on the matter. The fact her judgment had failed her so badly. “Do you think he killed Ursula?”
Peregrine avoided her gaze, staring off into the distance instead. Jocelyn’s heart thumped hard against her rib cage. He did. He blamed Leo for Ursula’s death. “Yes,” he said finally.
“What about Hannah? Does she think Leo killed Ursula?”
Once again Peregrine’s silence was telling. Jocelyn puffed out a frustrated breath, angry on her own behalf. She’d never have come to Dartmoor or exposed her mother to this situation if she’d known of Leo’s first wife and her traumatic death. While he might have still tricked her into marriage by professing his innocence, she would have thought twice if she’d had possession of all the facts. Since their marriage, she’d witnessed his icy anger. Added to the facts now she could see why Captain Cartwright had locked him up.
“I’d better join Hannah and Cassie,” Peregrine said.
“Why did you keep visiting Merrivale Manor and seeing Leo if you both thought he was responsible for your sister’s murder?”
Peregrine looked at her then, for the first time since she’d introduced the topic. His eyes blazed with emotions. Fear, definitely. The rest flickered through his eyes too quickly for her to decipher. “We can’t leave Cassie alone with him. What happens if he hurts her? I’m sure he’s just biding his time, waiting for suspicions to lull. Leo is dangerous.”
“I won’t let anything happen to Cassie,” Jocelyn said. “Arabella protected your niece while she was here.”
“Arabella was good with Cassie. That’s the only thing that’s keeping us from taking her,” Peregrine said. “And of course, your presence helps keep Cassie safe.”
Why, then, had Hannah wished to marry Leo? Jocelyn stared, conflicting emotions stilling her tongue. This wasn’t a nightmare she could wake up from to escape. All his words rang with truth. He truly believed Leo had killed his sister.