Chapter 14
“Mrs. Randall.” Viscount Brooketon bowed formally over her hand after being shown into the study.
“My lord.” Fliss accepted the gesture with restrained impatience. “I hope you have positive news for Lord Montgomery?” She got straight to the point, could see no reason for doing any other when this gentleman must be aware of her unchaperoned presence in the home of a single gentleman, albeit for her protection.
Until a few weeks ago, Fliss’s innate shyness would have rendered her awkward and self-conscious in the company of such a handsome gentleman as Lord Brooketon. Indeed, she had barely spoken two words to him at Thea’s wedding. Fliss doubted, after these past few weeks alone with Sin, that she was capable any longer of feeling either awkward or self-conscious in the company of a handsome gentleman or otherwise.
The viscount was almost as tall as Sin, his dark hair fashionably overlong and currently tousled. His piercing blue gaze was guarded in his hard, masculine face. He wore no hat, but the dusty appearance of his perfectly tailored riding clothes indicated he had ridden to Scotland on horseback, rather than in the comfort of his carriage.
Further evidence his reason for being here was urgent?
“I sent word to Winterbourne of my imminent arrival,” the viscount returned with that same frankness. “He did not tell you?”
“No.” Fliss frowned. “But I have not seen him for some hours.” She glanced across at the desk and the pile of open letters from this morning.
Brooketon frowned. “Where is he?”
Her gaze could no longer meet the hard scrutiny of the viscount’s. “Apparently, he has gone riding.”
“Where?”
“I have no idea.” She made no effort to disguise her exasperation with Sin’s lengthy disappearance. “Please tell me you have discovered the identity of the man who is trying to kill Sin.”
“I have, yes.” He nodded. “I followed him to Scotland, in fact.”
Fliss’s eyes widened. “He is here?”
The viscount nodded. “Staying at a house nearby.”
“The home of Ranulf and Millicent Montgomery?” Fliss’s hands were clenched so tightly at her sides, she could feel the nails digging into her palms through her gloves.
Brooketon’s brows rose. “Cairn House, yes. You know the identity of the assassin’s accomplice?” He eyed her with suspicion.
She did know now she was rested, yes. As she had also realized the reason for both her faint and her sense of foreboding earlier.
Something in the conversation this morning when they met Sin’s cousin and his wife out riding had struck a chord of memory in Fliss. A memory which, in her befuddled state of arousal, she had been unable to fully recognize. A sentence spoken, so like one in the Woodrows’ library that evening, which had resonated inside Fliss this morning but remained just beyond her grasp until she woke from her nap and recalled that encounter with the other couple.
Was it possible that Sin might have gone to visit the couple under the guise of joining them for dinner after all?
Fliss’s stomach churned at thoughts of what might happen when he got there. “I am not involved, if that is what you are thinking.”
“I would not presume…”
“Oh, I believe you would,” Fliss acknowledged tightly. “But in this case, you are wrong. I was still in the dark until earlier today.”
“What happened earlier today?”
“I met Sin’s cousin Ranulf and his wife while we were out riding.” Her cheeks warmed as she recalled the nature of that ride. “I am guessing that gentleman is also currently Sin’s heir to Castle Montgomery, at the very least?”
“And the Montgomery fortune, yes,” the viscount confirmed.
Fliss quickly moved to Sin’s desk, pushing several opened letters aside until she found the one Brooketon said he had sent. Opened by Sin this afternoon, while she was sleeping? Fliss believed that must indeed be the case. The content of the letter was blunt enough to have spurred a reaction in Sin. A reaction he would not have been able to hide if he had been in possession of that information before meeting his cousin and Ranulf’s wife this morning, or when he sat with her in her bedchamber.
She straightened, now knowing exactly where Sin had gone. “I believe we must both go to Cairn House immediately, my lord.”
“I agree I shall go immediately to Cairn House, Mrs. Randall,” the viscount drawled. “I doubt Winterbourne would approve of you accompanying me.”
Her chin rose in challenge. “The earl does not dictate my movements, my lord.”
Brooketon studied her stubborn expression between narrowed lids for several seconds before finally nodding. “Very well, we shall both go to Cairn House.”
Fliss was far too much the lady to show any triumph in the viscount’s capitulation.
Besides which, she was too concerned for Sin’s welfare to waste valuable time on such triviality.
Sin’s contemptuous gaze dismissed the dozen or so elegantly dressed guests presently milling about the drawing room at Cairn House in preparation for going through to dinner. He was only interested in seeking out his prey.
There.
Beautiful, vivacious, and wearing a blue gown that perfectly matched the color of her treacherous blue eyes. Her blonde hair was swept up in an intricate style that left several enticing curls at her temples and the vulnerability of her slender nape. Innocence personified.
“Might I ask why you are dressed for riding rather than dinner?” Ranulf prompted humorously as he appeared at Sin’s side.
“Because I am not here for dinner.” Sin’s gaze remained on the blonde-haired woman currently laughing at something said to her by one of the guests.
“No?” Ranulf sounded puzzled.
“No.”
His cousin’s humor faded. “You seem awfully tense this evening, Sin.”
Sin attempted to ease some of the tension from his shoulders. He was two years older than his cousin Ranulf, but living so near to each other, the two had always been as close as brothers. Unfortunately, that might be about to change.
He turned to the other man. “Tell me, Ranulf, how much do you love your wife?”
His cousin looked taken aback. “What sort of a question is that, man?”
“How much?” Sin persevered.
Ranulf appeared even more confused. “We met during the London Season last year, as you know. We became engaged then, and married four months ago.”
Sin’s jaw ached from being so tensely clenched. “That does not answer my question.”
“Her father is Lord Sugdon. He is powerful in the House, and rich to boot,” Ranulf reminded him unnecessarily. “You have always known of my political ambitions—”
“But do you love her?”
“I am fond of her. She will make a good politician’s wife—”
“Fuck. Do you love her?” Sin barely contained his temper.
“No,” Ranulf snapped. “Now what is this all about, Sin? Have you been drinking?” he added suspiciously.
“Not yet, but I am sure I shall drink a decanter or two before the night is over.”
The other man looked troubled. “I do not understand why you have come here dressed like that, and then set about asking me such personal questions.”
Sin glowered down at him. “Can you get your wife out of the room, somewhere private where we all might talk?”
“Our guests…”
“Fuck your guests, Ranulf!”
His cousin winced. “Keep your voice down.” He looked about them uncomfortably. “You are causing a scene.”
He breathed in deeply. “I am going to your study. I suggest that you and your wife join me there in the next five minutes. If not,” he continued firmly as Ranulf would have protested again, “I shall be forced to come back and make even more of a scene by revealing to all here that your wife is not only an adulteress but also planning, with the aid of her lover, to murder me.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“I… But—I don’t believe you,” Ranulf blustered.
Sin might have pitied his cousin if he did not also believe by telling Ranulf the truth he might also be saving his life. It was highly likely that Millicent might one day decide Ranulf had served his purpose, and she would have him done away with too.
“I have a witness to a conversation—and other things—during which your wife discussed how and when my murder was to take place.”
Ranulf looked totally bewildered now. “What other things?”
Sin was reluctant to discuss Millicent’s adultery in the same room as Ranulf’s guests. As unpleasant as his wife taking a lover was, it sounded more…acceptable than that Millicent was giving her body to this other man, in whatever manner he demanded, as part of the payment for disposing of Sin. Especially as Ranulf and Millicent had been in London and still on their honeymoon, after spending several weeks on the Continent, when the incident in the Woodrows’ library took place.
It was also, Sin had since realized, how the assassin had known Sin was to attend the house party at Eckles Manor. He had eaten luncheon with the newlyweds twice during his stay in London and recalled having told them of his plans for the rest of the summer.
He cursed himself now for not having remembered that sooner. Through choice, he had socialized with few people during his own stay in London. He certainly did not recall ever discussing his plans to go to Eckles Manor with anyone other than Ranulf and Millicent.
Ergo, either Ranulf or Millicent had to be involved in this plot to kill him.
He had been heartily relieved when Brooketon’s letter, received this morning and opened by Sin this afternoon, had confirmed it was not Ranulf. That was a betrayal Sin would have found hard to bear.
But it now left the problem of how best to deal with Millicent and her accomplice.
Before Sin could repeat his request that Ranulf quietly bring his wife to his study, there was a flurry of activity in the doorway and two people swept into the room.
“Mrs. Felicity Randall and Lord Brooketon,” Ranulf’s butler announced belatedly with an apologetic glance toward the mistress of the house.
Fliss, here?
And accompanied by Brooketon?
“Just do as I ask, Ranulf,” Sin told his cousin before making his way determinedly to where Fliss stood looking anxiously about the room.
That anxiety left her face and turned to an expression of relief as she saw him striding toward her. “Thank goodness you are all right.” She grasped his arm as if to assure herself of the fact. “What on earth do you mean by coming here alone and putting yourself in danger?”
“Do not look at me in that reproving way, Winterbourne,” Brooketon drawled as Sin did exactly that. “I doubt you are any more capable of stopping this lady once she is set on a course than I am.”
Sin moved to stand in front of Fliss, shielding her from the curious gazes of his cousin’s guests. “You should not have come here.”
“Any more than you should.” Those gray eyes flashed with disapproval.
“Brooketon, take Felicity back to Castle Montgomery—”
“I am not going anywhere.” Fliss all but stamped her foot in temper at Sin’s high-handed behavior. It was unacceptable after the tension she had suffered on the ride over here. She had expected to arrive and find it was all over, that the assassin had somehow managed to effect Sin’s death before she or Brooketon were able to prevent it from happening. As for Millicent Montgomery…
She stepped around Sin to search the room for the hostess, eyes narrowing as she saw the other woman standing across the room, frozen in place, her face deathly pale.
Fliss kept the fierceness of her gaze fixed on the other woman while she marched across the room. The other guests parted as if beset upon by a charging elephant rather than one small, very angry woman.
She came to a halt in front of the younger woman. “I have no interest as to the reason for your behavior, no sympathy for the price you were willing to pay,” she added contemptuously. “Only know this: You shall suffer, and suffer greatly, for plotting to kill your husband’s cousin.”
Millicent blinked. “I do not— You cannot come into my home uninvited and make such ridiculous accusations—”
“I believe I just did,” Fliss snapped. “Now, you will leave this room with me quietly, or I shall take great pleasure in informing your husband and all your guests of your despicable behavior.” She shook her head. “How you could treat your poor husband this way is beyond my comprehension.” Fliss might not have been in love with Stephen, but she had liked and respected him, and would never have dreamt, by word or deed, of behaving less than his devoted wife.
Sin was too stunned to move as he watched Fliss speak quietly to Millicent for several minutes before turning on her heel, her hand firmly on the other woman’s arm as the two walked toward him. Ranulf trailed along behind them, still with that bewildered look upon his face.
“I had always thought Mrs. Randall to be something of a mouse until today,” Brooketon murmured with admiration.
Sin shot the other man a rueful glance. “She is a mouse with claws.”
The other man chuckled. “Not a woman to cross.”
“No,” he allowed.
“But a woman to love?”
“Mind your own damned business,” Sin growled before turning to look across at the man standing near the French doors, watching the turn of events through narrowed lids. The tension in the man’s body said he was ready for flight, should the need arise. “Shall we?” Sin nodded in the direction of that gentleman.
“It will be my pleasure.” Brooketon nodded.
Lord Adam Sterling saw their approach far too late to make good his escape.