Edward,
Unfortunately, I cannot be here to graciously welcome you to my home. However, because of the sudden appearance of Lord Westwood’s brother this morning, I now have the laborious task of moving Mrs. Clark’s body to a safer location. Search all you desire, but you will find no trace of her or me. Rest assured, once I have completed my errand, I shall repay the difficulty in kind.
Please give my respects to your sister. I have been watching her and her lovely new friends for some time now—creeping onto Westwood Estate, visiting the stables, brushing my fingers over Lady Westwood’s delightful gardens, and consuming your table scraps. Yes, I am that close to you. Had I the opportunity, I would have exacted my revenge upon Samantha already. However, she spends her evenings writhing in Lord Westwood’s chamber, and bed, thus making that endeavor difficult.
Edward’s eyes flicked up from the letter. Wordlessly, he walked over to Benjamin. Without warning, he struck him squarely in the jaw. “You broke your word.”
“Swing again, Edward.” Raising his fists, Benjamin narrowed his eyes.
Thomas smirked, ripping the letter from Edward’s clenched hand. His eyes skimmed over the words again. Glancing at Benjamin, he pointed at the letter with a gleeful grin. “Morris claimed he could not kill Miss Hastings because she was sleeping in your bed… Edward must have just read that part.”
“I did,” Edward growled, drawing his arm back a second time.
Dancing away, Benjamin opened his hands into a placating gesture. “If the only reason your sister remains alive is due to her nocturnal activities, should you not be grateful for my involvement?”
Thomas tackled Edward as he dove at Benjamin. They rolled across the ground, a jumbled ball of limbs and curse words. Thomas flipped over, scrambling on top of Edward, pinning him in the dirt. Edward gnashed his teeth.
“There will be other opportunities to extoll your anger.”
“Is that what you said to Aidan?” Edward snarled, struggling against Thomas’ iron grip.
“No.” Grunting, Thomas climbed off Edward. He stood and extended his hand, helping Edward to his feet. “I apologized.”
“You apologized?”
“I would have done the same thing had I been in his position. Alana is his sister.” Thomas shrugged, glancing at Benjamin. “Can you not understand Edward’s frustration with your actions?”
“It’s part of his charm.” Benjamin rubbed his jaw, glowering at Edward.
“I’m not apologizing for striking you.”
“You are fortunate I am married to your sister, or I would remind you why I was the reigning boxing champion during our university years.”
Grumbling, Edward bent over, snatching the missive from the dirt, where it landed when Thomas knocked him to the ground. Turning his back on Benjamin, he brushed the paper flat, his eyes scanning over the final paragraph.
How long do you think it will take for your childhood home to burn to the ground? I shall let you know when I collect my inheritance from you. It’s a shame you brought the Flannerys and Shirelys into our little family disagreement. They shall all suffer for their involvement. I will set the countryside ablaze with my fury… Unless you see fit to award the ancestral jewelry to me, then I shall only take Samantha’s life before I release your family from its obligation. Consider your options, Edward. How many souls are you willing to lose? Shall we start with your housekeeper’s life?
“He’s going to set the manor afire.” Edward’s strained voice choked on the final word. He thrust the note at Benjamin. “Mrs. Caldwell… I must warn her.”
“Go.” Benjamin jerked his head toward the road, his eyes racing over the message. “Thomas will return to Westwood Estate—I’m certain he is hungry, having missed breakfast and lunch—and I will attend the constable once he arrives.”
Nodding, Edward climbed onto his horse. Urging the mare into a gallop, he raced toward the main road, vanishing within moments.
Crumbling the letter in his fist, Benjamin raised his black gaze to Thomas. “Stop at the Flannery’s property and explain to Aidan that Morris has expanded his ire to include their family. They need to be prepared.” Benjamin paused, a war in his eyes. “We will also need to speak with the Shirelys. Their assistance will be needed—including Mr. Shirely’s, even though his character is questionable—until Morris is caught.”
“What if he is the accomplice?” Thomas said, wrapping his hand around Shadow’s reins.
“I had considered that option. However, why would he threaten his own family?”
“If he murdered his brother…” Thomas patted Shadow’s head, stroking his fingers over the horse’s soft coat.
“Mr. Shirely did not kill his brother,” Benjamin replied with finality.
“Did you have a conversation with Mr. Davis?” Thomas narrowed his eyes.
“I did, and he believes Mr. Shirely’s innocence.”
“Does he know who did?”
“He has his suspicions.”
“Why did he not say anything?”
“It’s not his nature to accuse without evidence.” Benjamin’s curt reply ended the discussion. “However, there is an unknown accomplice, and until we discover who he is, we must be cautious.”
Thomas nodded, climbed onto his horse, and turned Shadow in a half-circle, then walked his horse down the drive, his eyes swept back and forth, checking the road for any signs of Morris. At the fork, he headed right, maintaining his slow pace. When he reached the fence lining the Flannery’s property, he yanked on the reins.
Alana stomped down the road, a rifle across her arms, fire blazing in her eyes. “Was it necessary to hit him that hard?”
Thomas flung his leg over the horse, dismounting Shadow. “He hit me first.”
“You deserved his wrath.” She swung the rifle, aiming it at his chest.
“As much as you deserve mine?” Thomas arched an eyebrow. She was the reason he risked Aidan’s anger. A flash of pain shot through her eyes, and she lowered the gun. “You need sleep,” he said, softening his tone
“I need many things,” she sighed, gesturing toward the main road. “I’m assuming you came from Mr. Morris’ estate. What did you discover?”
“Morris removed Mrs. Clark’s body. We lost his trail. Benjamin stayed behind to assist the constable.” Thomas leaned forward, dropping his voice. “Morris left a note for Edward. He threatened to burn down the manor and murder the housekeeper.”
Alana gasped.
“Edward left immediately.” Thomas walked along the road, his hand wrapped loosely around Shadow’s reins. “Morris claimed he intended to punish your family as well for assisting Edward and Miss Hastings.”
“We are not frightened.” Alana shouldered her gun, trailing her fingertips along the wooden fence as she strolled beside Thomas. “Aidan and I discussed the probability of our actions angering Franklin. We have a plan.”
“Which is?”
“Patrick is coming.”
Thomas nodded. The eldest Flannery was a practical, gruff man who spent most of his youth chasing Aidan and Benjamin across fields, through barns, and over the stream—on several occasions.
A sudden thought crashed into his head. “I thought you were shooting with Miss Clemens.”
“Her ankle was causing her too much trouble. Aidan carried her back to Westwood Estate.” She stopped, leaning against a fencepost.
“And where is Aidan now?” Thomas asked, forcing a nonchalant tone into his question.
“Caring for a black eye.” Alana tilted her head, studying him for a moment. She opened her mouth and paused as if debating her next sentence. “I owe you an explanation.”
“But not an apology?”
“No.”
“I cannot think of one excusable reason—”
“Your uncle threatened Mother’s life!”
Thomas’ jaw dropped. If Uncle Benedict knew of his intention to marry Alana, why had he not expressed his concern over the matter?
“You are lying,” he hissed. “Uncle Benedict loved you, told me he thought you were a fine match.” Those were his exact words when Thomas revealed to him later that evening, he and Alana were engaged.
“He loved you,” Alana replied with a shake of her head, her loose tresses whipping around her face, “and you were blinded to his prejudices.”
“He was a good man, treating everyone with respect.”
“Except for my family.” Alana closed her eyes, mimicking Uncle Benedict’s gruff tone. “No Irish bitch is going to bear my nephew’s children, not while I have one breath in this body. If you do not break your engagement, I will kill your mother on the eve of your wedding.”
“You are mistaken. He would never—”
“Aidan will confirm my story. He had been with your brother that evening and was returning home late. He witnessed the confrontation.”
Thomas’ vision blurred. Why would his uncle deliberately destroy his relationship with Alana? His mind raked through memories, searching for hints of his uncle’s deception. He’d lied to Thomas for years, watched him suffer, and said nothing, all because of a petty prejudice? The thought seemed impossible… and yet, as memories tumbled through his mind, he remembered the insults, the cruel comments about Aidan and Patrick, the harsh treatment of Mrs. Flannery during social functions, from not only Uncle Benedict but several prominent societal members as well. He stumbled, clutching his chest. Leaning against the fence, his eyes focused on Alana. He had treated her so poorly.
“You believe me,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I—”
She held up her hand. “Your understanding is all I crave. I would never intentionally hurt you, and the fact you believed I could, wounded me so deeply… However, we are two different people from who we once were, Thomas, and as much as I value your friendship, I want nothing more from you than that, not even an apology. You were a victim as much as I, blinded by the prejudices of our fathers. We must accept that fate had separate paths for the two of us. However, I don’t regret the life I have lived. Sebastian was a kind man, and I’m grateful he was my husband.”
Thomas grabbed her arm, yanking her against him. “We would have figured out a way. Did you not trust me?”
Alana glanced down at his hand, a wistful smile on her lips. “And set you against your uncle? I couldn’t take him from you, not after you lost your father. I sacrificed my heart to save yours.”
“I loved you!” exploded Thomas.
“And I, you. The moment I heard of your uncle’s passing, I wrote you a letter.” She extracted her arm from his grasp. “However, you refused the missive and every other one I sent afterward.”
“I was angry.” He dragged his hand through his hair, frustration oozing through his body. He’d lost his chance at love, he’d been a broken man for so long, and now…
Craning her neck, Alana stared at the sky, a sad smile pulling at a corner of her mouth. “Our time has passed, and I have no intention of interfering with your future. I will leave for London this evening. Aidan has booked passage to America for me. It’s time for a new adventure.” She returned her eyes to Thomas. “And you, dear friend, I suggest you rethink your position on matrimony, or you will lose your opportunity at happiness once again.”
She curtsied and spun, walking down the drive. Mounting Shadow, Thomas urged the horse into a gallop, racing down the main road. His thoughts chased him. How could Uncle Benedict betray him? Did Benjamin know of this meddling… did his mother? Surely, his mother would never allow Uncle Benedict to threaten such an atrocious act.
So preoccupied was he with his thoughts, he didn’t realize his surroundings until Shadow skidded to a stop, nearly crashing into the barn door. He whinnied in protest, stomping the ground. Apologizing, Thomas slid from the horse’s back. After opening the door, Thomas led Shadow into the stables, removed the tack and bit, and ushered the horse into his stall. Extracting a sugar lump, he pressed it to Shadow’s expectant lips, then raced from the stables.
Dashing up the slope toward the house, Thomas had one focus—his mother. He burst into the entranceway, nearly knocking over Miss Larson, who was passing by the door. He grabbed her arm to prevent her from falling.
“Thank you, my Lord—”
Thomas shook his head. “Wrong brother.”
“Oh, Mr. Reid. Please forgive me.” She curtsied, her face pinched with worry.
“It is I who should apologize to you.” Thomas smiled, releasing her.
“You are very kind.” Miss Larson forced a small smile to her mouth. “Is there something I can do for you?”
“Have you seen my mother?”
“She, Mrs. Hastings, and her daughters are playing croquet on the lawn.” Miss Larson’s eyes flicked to something behind Thomas, all color draining from her skin. Without a word, she bobbed her head and retreated down the hallway.
“Mr. Reid!” Miss Randall’s delighted voice floated into the entrance hall. “I was hoping to see you this afternoon.”
Groaning inwardly, Thomas turned toward the parlor, pasting a smile on his lips. He strolled to the door, his body protesting the delay, and peered into the room. Miss Randall, perched on the chair near the doorway, rose and curtsied as did Miss Hastings, who sat opposite the couch in a second armchair. On the couch rested Miss Clemens, her bare, swollen foot propped on a pillow.
“Miss Clemens!” He hastened into the room, offering a belated bow, and dropped to his knees beside the couch, grabbing her hand. “Please forgive me. I did not know your injury was so great.”
“I’m alright, Mr. Reid.” Daphne extracted her hand, grimacing as she pushed herself into a sitting position. “As you can see, I have more than enough caretakers for such a minor injury.”
“Hmph.” Aunt Abigail’s disapproval flowed into the room. She clomped forward, banging her cane with each step. Sinking onto the couch, Aunt Abigail flicked up the hem of Miss Clemens’ skirt, her lips pressed into a thin line. “I distinctly remember telling you to return Daphne in the exact state as which you borrowed her.” She glared at Thomas. “You swore.”
A tiny smile flickering across Miss Clemens’ face, her eyes sliding to Thomas, mischief dancing in them. She arched her eyebrow, mouthing the words, “Swearing, Mr. Reid.”
He covered his snicker with a cough, returning his attention to Aunt Abigail’s fury. “A swollen ankle does not designate the need for marriage.”
She slammed her cane on the ground. “Do not mock me, Thomas!”
“Aunt Abigail,” Miss Clemens placed a calming hand on the older woman’s arm. “Mr. Reid has unknowingly done me a great service.”
Aunt Abigail’s head whipped toward Miss Clemens. “How so?”
“With such a horrific injury, I was regretfully forced to decline the Shirelys invitation to dine with them this evening.” Miss Clemens’ face broke into a radiant smile. Laughing, both Miss Randall and Miss Hastings resumed their seats.
“Yes, that is unfortunate,” Aunt Abigail chuckled. “However, I’m certain Thomas will happily go in your stead as an apology for your absence, as well as mine.” She locked her eyes on Thomas. “I expect you and your brother to represent our family with dignity and grace.”
Thomas grumbled under his breath, rising from his kneeling position. Moving around the back of the chairs, he dug his fingers into the back of Miss Hastings’ chair. “Miss Hastings, will you be attending as well?” She craned her neck, glowering at him. He grinned. “Since Benjamin is attending…”
“I would be delighted,” she ground out through her teeth. “Miss Randall, please inform your aunt, the four of us will join them this evening.”
“Thank you.” Miss Randall smiled, her violet eyes sparkling as they slid over Thomas. “I shall send my response straightaway.” Standing, she danced out of the parlor, calling for Miss Larson as soon as she reached the entrance hall. Her voice echoed, fading as she meandered toward the servants’ quarters.
“I hope you are hungry, Daphne. We are planning a full menu this evening.”
“A full menu? With half the house missing?” Thomas glanced at Aunt Abigail, his forehead wrinkled in confusion.
“Yes, Asher and his boys are visiting.” Aunt Abigail tilted her head. “Did you forget?”
He had forgotten. Miss Clemens was to answer Asher’s question of matrimony this evening.
“Perhaps—”
“Your punishment, Thomas, for not keeping your word, is to attend dinner at the Shirelys.” She offered him a frosty smile and rose, exiting the room.
His eyes raked over Miss Clemens. She groaned, adjusting her leg, then laid back on the couch and closed her eyes, draping her arm over her face. Guilt rolled through him. He caused her this pain, made her no promises, and yet, begged her to forgo a chance at happiness.
Asher was the better man, to be sure, and he had offered marriage… If given the choice, would she choose Asher over him?