Ravenna had not lost her head. It would be dangerous to scream and risk arousing Kieran’s anger. He could take her life before anyone in the house came to her rescue. At least as long as he was here, he could not threaten Simon. He was desperate. She would not go into hysterics.

On the contrary, she resolved to conduct herself as would a well-trained duchess when faced with an unprecedented dilemma. After all, Simon had prepared her for this eventuality. His abundance of caution had been justified. He had done everything in his considerable power to guard her. As he had stated, she was not without resources.

Time was her friend. Time was her enemy. Surely Griffin would grow suspicious when she did not meet him for their reunion. Unless he had fallen asleep in Simon’s office. He had been traveling on and off for weeks, with an ailing infant, a chattering aunt, a wife and a dukedom of his own to maintain. Who could fault him for stealing a wink?

It was up to her to save herself.

“What do you want of me?” she coolly asked the man who had moved into the center of the room.

“Forgiveness,” he said and knelt unexpectedly at her feet. “I shot at your husband in London. You recognize me, don’t you?”

She concealed her alarm. “Not really.”

“I followed you when you were shopping with your manservant. I tried to work up the courage to talk to you then. But there were too many people about.”

“That was my maid,” she said. “You frightened her.”

“Then I regret that, too.” His eyes searched the room. “Where can I find his grace?”

She wasn’t about to admit that Simon might be gone until late tomorrow morning.

“This is a large estate,” she said, backing another step toward the bed. “I have not explored it myself in its entirety. I am not alone. My husband could be in one of the outbuildings. He isn’t in this room, obviously. Shall I call a servant to search for him?”

“The duke’s horse is gone from the stables.” He raised his head. “He is in imminent danger.”

“From you?” Make him explain, she thought. Maintain the conversation. Pretend he is an offensive dowager one had to cosset. Someone had to come. “You meant to kill him in my cousin’s garden. And tonight you will try again.”

“Your grace, you do not understand. I have no reason to harm you or your husband. I loved his sister even though I brought about her death. It is the earl who has sworn to kill your husband. Lord Bruxton has threatened to obtain a warrant for my arrest. As an Irish servant, I will not make it to gaol alive. But if I can save the duke’s life, I’ll have begun to repay my debt to Susannah. May I explain?”

She heard a footstep outside the room. Had Kieran noticed it? Yes. He glanced briefly to the door. “Explain,” she said, reaching back across the coverlet. She raised the pistol steadily to his head. “Tell me your story, but lift your hands slowly to your shoulders and do not move again. I believe that I am a better shot than you are.”

Home.

At last.

No sooner had Simon and Rhys slowed their lathered horses in the darkened yard than Timpkins flew out of the stables, his hair askew.

“He is here, your grace,” he said, gasping between each word of his outburst. “The duchess has asked that you not panic. She is safe in her brother’s care. Or perhaps it is the other way around. I do not quite know the chain of events.”

Simon slid to the ground, ignoring the stiffness in his back. She is safe. Those were the three words that counted most. “Who is here?”

Timpkins caught the reins in his hand. “The earl’s groom.”

Before the harried steward could offer further reassurance, Rhys had dismounted behind Simon. Together they broke into a hard run for the house.

Simon reached the front steps first and charged into the hall. He was frantic, furious at himself for leaving Ravenna alone. In his haste he narrowly averted knocking a housemaid to her knees. She was agile and in better control of her senses than was her master. She straightened her frilled cap, curtsied at his distracted apology, and gestured past him to the door of the gold drawing room.

“They’re having tea in there, your grace. Would you like a fresh pot?” She dropped another curtsy as Rhys strode into her view, his blue eyes wild.

Simon shook his head in confoundment. Had the maid misunderstood the danger to her mistress? “Tea? At this hour?” Then he realized he had no idea of the time. Was it still dark outside? Was that the moon or the sun that illuminated the hall? It was an enormous lamp.

“Your grace?” the maid prompted, backing away as if his disquietude embarrassed her.

He didn’t respond as he proceeded down the hall. Indeed, he needed several moments to collect his thoughts as he burst into the room. Even then he had to curb his impulse for physical violence at the sight of Kieran propped up in a chair as if he were an invited guest.

Ravenna did not clear up the misperception. She sat beside Griffin on the sofa. She appeared self-contained, serene in contrast to Simon’s internal turmoil. A tinge of rose touched her cheeks. Her curls looked uncombed. Aside from those becoming flaws and the pistol discreetly propped on her lap, she might have been holding a party for the local gentry, and not holding off an intruder, the very man who had threatened Simon’s life.

“Simon! Rhys!” she exclaimed, rising to her feet to hurl herself into Simon’s arms. Their embrace briefly soothed him. Rage, however, predominated his emotions. “Don’t do anything rash, Simon,” she said. “Kieran came here to warn you.”

“Then he should have approached me directly,” he said with the meager control he could salvage. “How did he gain entry to the house?”

“He used the secret panel in the bedchamber,” she said in hesitation, hiding her pistol in her skirts.

“I don’t believe this. He broke into the bedroom to help me? He could not present himself at the door, the servant’s quarters, or even the stables? Use your common sense. That is not a heroic entrance. He sneaked in because he meant to inflict harm.”

“He was afraid he would be shot on sight,” Ravenna said in a weary voice. “He thought he had come to you directly. He attempted to show himself earlier, but Timpkins’s practice shot warned him away. To be fair, you purposefully left the house in a clandestine manner so that anyone observing your activities would not know of your absence.”

He was too infuriated to appreciate her logic. He glanced sharply at Kieran. “You led me to believe that you had befriended my sister. Yet the moment I turn my back, I find you in my home, imperiling my wife.”

“I tried to tell you the truth,” Kieran said, his face ashen.

Simon ground his back teeth. “Does that include your attempt on my life at the marquess’s ball? Do you realize that my wife has lived in fear, a virtual prisoner, since that night? You had a chance to confess when you met me at the livery stables. You could have sought me out at any time and offered an explanation.”

Kieran rubbed a streak of grime from his cheek. “I deserve every whit of your condemnation, but for the moment you must know only that the earl has vowed to kill you.”

“Is he going to issue me a challenge?” Simon asked in a skeptical voice. “Why should I believe either one of you?”

“He’s too afraid to act with honor. He blames you for his marriage and his failure to garner a political constituency. He despises you, your grace.”

“He has no kind words for you, Kieran. You do not deny you tried to murder me in London?”

There was a silence. The younger man struggled against tears, but Simon was not influenced. “Stay here with Ravenna,” he said to Rhys. “Sleep if it is possible. I might need you again.”

“Where are you going?” she asked in bewilderment.

He swung around. He would not be moved. “Upstairs with Kieran. He’s going to show me how he broke into our room.”

Griffin stirred. “I have been sitting here pointlessly for hours. Let me guard the rear this time.”

Simon withdrew his pistol from his coat as he accompanied Kieran and Griffin into the spacious bedchamber. He felt at once violated at the thought of Ravenna managing an intruder in this room by herself. This was to be a place of sanctuary and intimate revelations.

“Did he have any weapons?” he asked Griffin, who had crossed the room to peer into the passage at the fireplace.

“No,” Griffin said. “And I searched him thoroughly. In all honesty I might have put a bullet in him had Ravenna not intervened on his behalf. Where does this tunnel lead?”

“To the stables.” Simon motioned to Kieran. “Talk. Tell me the truth. Did Bruxton murder my sister?”

Kieran looked a decade older than when Simon had met him at the livery stables in London. “There was never a question of it in my mind. I swear, I did not witness the act. It was misting all that day. I saw his shadow in the window behind her. She cried out my name as she fell. She’d admitted to him the evening before that she and I were in love. I thought it strange that afterward he showed no anger toward her or me. I planned to take her away the next night. Now I realize that he’d made his own plans.”

“You cuckholded him. His anger was not wholly unjustified.”

“I sinned. I admit it. But so did he. He beat her before I ever touched her. He hit her once so hard that she lost the baby she wasn’t aware she had conceived.”

“Prick,” Griffin muttered, turning his face to the fireplace. “Damn him and his ilk to hell.”

Simon’s head pounded. He was overwhelmed with sorrow at the thought of Susannah living in secret despair. “She should have felt safe to come to me,” he said in an empty voice.

“I begged her to summon you.” Kieran wiped his wrist across his eyes. “She was convinced you wouldn’t believe her or that you’d insist she endure his mistreatment for the sake of her marriage. She said that if you confronted Bruxton he would lie to defend himself and life would be worse for her.”

Was she wrong? Simon wondered. Why hadn’t he visited her? Why had Ravenna’s family ignored her plea?

Kieran continued. “I deceived myself into thinking that I’d brought her some happiness. Perhaps I did, but in the end she died because of me. I should have protected her, even if my love for her was wrong.”

“You expect me to forgive you?”

“I’ll take my stripes.”

“Why didn’t Bruxton dismiss you? Not because you are a skilled groom or can pick a winning horse?”

“He needed my silence. I needed his.  He needed me to defeat you.  He didn’t want to appear weak or have it known that he’d been taken advantage of by a woman and a servant. We had humiliated him. He threatened me with gaol and transportation if ever I revealed her betrayal. And, yes, I’ve talent with horses. He has a passion for racing and I told you that I can train a winner.”

“He’s blackmailing you.”

Griffin straightened. “It could be the other way around. Don’t believe everything you are told, Simon.”

“Why didn’t you have the courage to leave the estate or at least end the affair?” Simon demanded.

Kieran looked down. “Susannah said she would die if I left her. She trusted me to take care of her horse and her life.”

“You know she didn’t jump from that window.” Simon stared into the man’s face. “She didn’t take her own life.”

“I couldn’t see what happened from where I stood,” Kieran explained again. “Bruxton came up behind her, but I lost sight of his movements behind the curtains. Yes, I believe in my heart that he killed her. He has taunted me since with not knowing. The housekeeper was in the room at the time. But she was too upset afterward to make sense.” Kieran heaved a sigh of fatigue. “Her mind is muddled now. For all I know Bruxton had something to do with her decline.”

Simon sent Griff a sideways glance. He had poked his head back into the passage. “I had the same impression,” he said to Kieran. “I talked to her a few hours ago in the cottage where Bruxton has hidden her. She’s old and unwell, reluctant to leave the home he maintains for her. She depends on his care.”

Kieran slowly raised his face. “Do you think she’s hiding the truth?”

“If she is, she will not say. In her fragile state she isn’t long for this world and is doubtless incapable of spending her final days seeking justice. It would be said that her memory is unreliable and she should have spoken up before.”

Kieran shuddered. “I’ll kill him now. I don’t care if I lose my soul.”

Simon steadied the pistol in his hand. “Give me that satisfaction.”

“I heard Susannah call my name from her bedchamber,” Kieran repeated faintly. “Everything went slow. I shouted for help and ran for the window, but she landed on the ground before I could break her fall. She was gone when I reached her.”

“Did you try to lame my wife’s horse in London?” Simon asked after a pause.

“I care for animals more than I do my own wretched life. I’d never hurt a horse. Or a lady. Never.”

“But you attempted to murder me at my cousin-in-law’s party?”

“Bruxton swore you would ruin him, and that I would pay the price for everything that had happened. Yes. On his orders I shot at you. By my conscience I missed on purpose. He was infuriated that I failed. I accept the consequences.”

Griff withdrew his head from the black wedge in the wall. “Those consequences might arrive sooner than you expect. I hear shuffling at the bottom of this pit. You say the stairwell leads to the stables, Simon?”

“It could be the horses. It’s almost time for their feed.” He withdrew his other gun. “Kieran, did you come alone?”

“Yes.” The groom shifted on his feet. “It’s Bruxton. I warned you he would come.”

A metallic clunk echoed from the depths of the passage. A shovel, candlestick, a pitchfork? A scuffle but no voices?

He motioned Kieran to the panel. “Go ahead of me. Take one of my pistols.”

Griffin pivoted. “I’m not sure it’s a good idea to arm the enemy. Make him walk between us.”

“No,” Kieran said with vehemence. “I’ll go first. One of you can follow. The other should alert the rest of the house. Have the stables surrounded by the men you employ. Bruxton won’t expect anyone to appear from a false wall. Susannah said she never told him about the hiding place. I pulled the door tight behind me.”

Simon nudged him forward and then ducked into the murky passageway. “I have no reason to trust you or your master. Deceive me and I shall not hesitate to make you sorry for the last time in your life.”

As he reached the bottom of the abyss, Simon detected a blur of light and instantly dropped to his knees. Kieran had darted ahead. Simon could not restrain him without revealing his own presence. He wasn’t even sure that Griff was still at his back.

By now the stable attendants would be leading the horses outside to the paddock to groom, water, and exercise. The kitchen maids would work the pumps and stoke breakfast fires. The estate roused in stages, a pattern followed every morning for over a century.

In fact, it might have been any other peaceful day at Caverley, except for the young male messenger sprawled out by the hay manger, a shovel at his side, and the silhouette of the earl, his attacker, visible against one of the stall doors.

Bruxton had not yet sensed Simon’s arrival.