“Aunt Samantha left to retrieve my dollhouse.” Lucy twisted her fingers as she revealed the information.
Benjamin’s eyes slid to Thomas who shrugged. Benjamin turned back to Lucy. “Where is your dollhouse?”
Leaning forward, Lucy glanced left and right, then cupped her hand around her mouth, whispering, “I hid it in Father’s office the morning of the fire.”
“Why did Miss Hastings travel—unchaperoned—to the townhouse to rescue your dollhouse?” asked Thomas.
“She did not go alone.” Lucy punctuated the statement with an eye roll, twisting toward Thomas, irritated he would hint Miss Hastings’ lacked proper manners.
“With whom did she travel?” asked Benjamin.
Lucy turned her plump face toward him and grinned. “Cousin Franklin took her in his carriage.”
“Lucy!” Nancy’s voice echoed from the top stair. Lucy’s head whipped toward the sound.
Benjamin grasped Lucy’s arms lightly, recapturing her attention. “Why did your aunt believe the recovery of your dollhouse was urgent enough to leave without your father or me?”
“I do not know, Lord Westwood.” Lucy sank her teeth into her lower lip, her eyes flicking toward the top of the staircase. “Aunt Samantha said it was a house that was not a home. I did not understand what she meant.”
“Lucy! Where have you been hiding?” Nancy exclaimed as she rushed down the steps.
Lucy paled. “I wanted to see the luncheon.”
“I am very sorry Miss Hastings was bothering you, my Lord,” Nancy said to Benjamin with a curtsy.
“Actually, she has proven quite helpful,” replied Benjamin, winking at Lucy.
“Thank you, Lord Westwood.” Lucy curtsied as Nancy scooped her up, along with the plate of left-over sandwiches and carried her upstairs into the nursery.
“Why would Miss Hastings risk her life to retrieve a dollhouse?” asked Thomas. “What did she mean when she told young Miss Hastings a house that is not a home?”
“I do not know.” Benjamin stood with a grimace, shaking off Thomas’ offered arm. However, it doesn’t matter. I am leaving for the townhouse.”
“Edward—”
“Has no right to order a lord to do anything,” replied Benjamin, an edge to his retort. “Remain here until he returns and inform him of my destination.”
Instead of heading down the stairs, Benjamin turned and stumped slowly upward, climbing one step at a time. Thomas watched his brother’s painful progress for a moment.
“The townhouse is in the opposite direction,” Thomas said, his confusion evident.
“I am aware of its location,” Benjamin ground out as he climbed. He winced, pain radiated through his body, setting his teeth on edge. “I need to retrieve something from my bedchamber.”
“If you turn right at the bottom of the staircase, the hallway will lead you to the informal sitting room. You can access the gardens from that room.” Miss Clemens’ voice drifted down the upstairs hallway. Miss Randall appeared a moment later, her dress fully restored. She curtsied to Benjamin as she descended the staircase, greeting Thomas with a wide smile.
A lopsided grin froze on Thomas’ face. Benjamin sighed. Now was probably not the best time for Thomas to fall in love. However, he could do worse than Miss Charlotte Randall. Benjamin held no qualms regarding Miss Randall with the exception of her relation to the abhorrent Shirely family. Their esteem continued to plummet in his mind.
Thomas tracked Miss Randall as she turned the corner toward the rear of the house, watching until she disappeared from view. He glanced at Benjamin sheepishly and shrugged. “Are you certain you want to go alone?”
“Edward specifically requested someone must remain here until he returned from Morris’ country estate,” Benjamin replied, sucking in a sharp breath, agony accompanying each step.
“He should not be absent much longer.” Miss Clemens interjected morosely from above them, her attention solely on Thomas. “If you would prefer to escort Lord Westwood, I can inform Mr. Hastings of your destination.”
“That is very kind of you, Miss Clemens,” replied Thomas. “However, I do not wish to impose any further favors on you. Besides, my stubborn brother would never willingly accept my help. Therefore, I must decline your offer and remain here, avoiding the luncheon.”
“Whenever I do not wish to be disturbed by societal pariahs, I hide in the gazebo,” said Benjamin. He scowled as he bumped his foot against the top step of the second-floor landing.
“An excellent idea.” Thomas flashed a smile at Miss Clemens. “Would you care to join me in avoiding an unnecessary public function, Miss Clemens?”
“I would be pleased to accompany you in your endeavor,” replied Miss Clemens hesitantly. Descending the staircase, she accepted Thomas’ offered arm, and they strolled toward the front door.
Thomas mumbled a comment which earned a light giggle. However, Benjamin could no longer discern the conversation. Rescuing another female... Benjamin entered his chamber, shaking his head clear of Thomas’ problems.
The aroma of honeysuckle hung in the air. Miss Hastings’ scent surrounded him, lightly kissing his face. He limped over to the fireplace, counting down the bricks until he came to the loose stone. Extricating the brick, he removed a pistol hidden behind it, sliding it into his coat pocket, then replacing the brick. Turning on his heel, Benjamin spied the corner of a missive peeking out from underneath the inkwell on his desk.
Hobbling over, he removed the note, unfolded it, and read it quickly. He sighed. Of course, Miss Hastings found the threatening letter. How could he be so neglectful? He did not even realize it was missing. She must have determined what Morris sought. However, not knowing the author of the missive, it made sense she would employ her cousin in one of her adventures. Morris was always game for an expedition even encouraging a young Miss Hastings to join him in India.
Edward nearly murdered Morris when he discovered his sister at the shipping yard, dragging her trunk up the gangplank, her cousin’s letter still clutched in her little fist. Thankfully, the sailors found the image of a slight, eleven-year-old girl with braids amusing enough, they allowed Edward to collect her from the ship without incident. Miss Hastings was livid, screaming and pummeling Edward as he flung her over his shoulder and carted her off the ship toward a waiting carriage. It was her Uncle Ephraim who calmed her, explaining she would have plenty of time for adventures after she completed her education. Miss Hastings accepted his rationalization without argument. Now, it seemed as though Morris managed to entice her again.
Crumpling the note in his fist, Benjamin stumbled from the room. “I am coming, Samantha.”
The smell of burnt wood singed Benjamin’s nose. Clouds of smoke polluted the hallway, casting eerie shadows on the walls. He heard a scuffle, the sound amplified by the scorched skeleton of the sitting room. Benjamin crept down the hallway, his shoes leaving footprints in the ashes. He noticed two other sets of fresh prints leading into the darkness. Cautiously, he felt his way down the hallway, following the faint light which stemmed from behind the ajar study door.
Peeking around the corner, Benjamin peered into the room, his boot creaking one of the distressed floorboards. Cursing under his breath, Benjamin froze, his muscles tensing. The noises coming from the study stopped. Fearing the worst, Benjamin pulled the gun from his pocket and rushed into the room.
“That is far enough, Westwood. Any closer and I slit her throat,” Morris warned as he tightened his grasp around Miss Hastings, his voice a menacing growl.
Benjamin’s eyes drank in the scene in front of him—chairs flipped over, one with a broken leg, Mrs. Hastings’ desk upended, its soft surface marred with scorch marks, papers and books scattered across the floor, Edward’s desk stripped bare, its items strewn throughout the room. Ink dripped down the far wall. Morris wheezed as beads of sweat dripped from his red face, frustration etching deep lines across his brow.
Reluctantly, Benjamin allowed his gaze to travel over to Miss Hastings’ face. The sight ignited an inferno of ire which blazed through his veins. A bruise blossomed on one cheek, its morbid shade of purple discoloring her pale skin. Blood leaked from the corner of her mouth. Wiggling against Franklin’s iron grip, her face shone with fear as the knife pressed harder against her neck. Benjamin slid his foot forward, the subtle movement noticed by Morris who shook his head slowly, gripping the knife handle tightly.
“Perhaps you did not understand my warning the first time.” Morris pressed the blade deeper into Miss Hastings’ neck. She choked, her delicate skin whitening under the pressure of the knife blade. A strangled sob forced Benjamin to freeze, his heart hammering loudly.
How would he save her?
“That is much better. I am pleased to see you can follow directions.” Morris spoke in a disarmingly calm manner. “Now, if you would be so kind as to place your pistol on the floor.”
Leaning over with a grunt, Benjamin laid the gun on the ground. He stepped back, raising his arms in a friendly gesture, awaiting further instruction.
“Lock the study door. I would prefer no further interruptions until our business is concluded.” Morris gestured with his free hand.
Benjamin complied. He needed a plan, a distraction until Edward arrived. Benjamin spun around with a half-smile, spreading his arms wide. “Mr. Morris, there is no need for such violence.”
“Of course, there is no need, I just happen to enjoy it.” Morris chuckled. “At first, I was a little squeamish. However, over time, one can become immune to anything.”
“Why, Mr. Morris?” asked Benjamin. Where was Edward? “Why did you resort to murder?”
“They stole from me.” He snarled, pressing the knife deeper into Miss Hastings’ throat.
“What did they steal?” Benjamin inched forward.
“My inheritance.” Morris shook his head, swiping the knife toward Benjamin.
“The jewelry was a wedding gift from Uncle Ephraim. You were not the oldest, you were not next in line to receive them,” said Miss Hastings. She clawed her fingernails down Franklin’s arm. He slapped her. Her anguished scream cut off as Morris pressed the knife against her windpipe again, a thin line of blood trickling from the blade.
“Manners,” murmured Morris, pressing his lips against her ear. “The adults are conversing, Samantha.”
Benjamin clenched his fists, forcing himself to remain immobile. He feared any sudden movement would give Morris occasion to slide the knife quickly across Miss Hastings’ throat.
“Ephraim should have given the jewelry to me. Your father did not need the collection, he received both estates.”
“You would have sold every piece,” choked out Miss Hastings. She stomped on his boot, struggling against Morris’ deadly embrace.
Morris casually wrapped his hand through her hair, as though bored by the repeated attempts to escape, and roughly yanked her head back until she was forced to stare into his eyes. A tear slid down one of her cheeks.
“It was my right.” Morris’ lips brushed intimately against her mouth. A tremor raced through Miss Hastings.
He was going to rip Morris’ limbs from his torso!
“You must have felt betrayed,” said Benjamin, struggling against the burgeoning desire to beat Morris into an unrecognizable mass of skin and bones. He forced a soothing tone into his voice.
“I was robbed,” Morris replied, releasing Miss Hastings’ hair. He locked his sinister gaze on Benjamin, tilting his head. “That necklace is worth thousands.”
“Surely, your uncle would not deny you an inheritance.”
“He did. He bestowed everything on his favorite nephew.” Turning his macabre grin toward Miss Hastings again, Morris inhaled deeply, rubbing his nose against her curls. He shot a glare in Benjamin’s direction, daring him to protest. Reaching for Miss Hastings’ head, Morris stroked a hand over her tresses, causing Benjamin to unconsciously advance. When Morris finally spoke, his voice came from the past.
“I would have traded every bit of jewelry to marry Rebecca, but Matthew stole her too. I could not swallow his betrayal. I left town immediately following their engagement announcement. The convenient death of my father provided a moderate living, so I chose to disappear. Eventually, my funds dwindled, and I found myself in significant debt. The need to return overpowered my broken heart.”
“You have no heart,” Miss Hastings whispered.
Morris ignored her. “Uncle Ephraim refused my request, stating the sum was too large. I decided to ask Matthew for a loan. Rebecca opened the door when I called on the household, and I was immediately transported back to my youth. She glowed like an angel in the afternoon light.”
“She must have been overjoyed to see you after such a long absence,” said Benjamin. He slid closer to Miss Hastings. He could almost touch her.
Morris nodded, still lost in the past. “Rebecca invited me to their end of season ball that very evening. I was in high spirits when I arrived. At a late hour, she retired upstairs to put little Samantha back into the nursery.
“Even as a little child, you were a brat.” Snagging his fingers in her hair, he closed his fist and yanked again. Miss Hastings yelped with pain, her hands flying to her head. Grinning, he relaxed his grip, raising his eyes to Benjamin.
“I followed Rebecca stealthily. As she exited the nursery, I emerged from the shadows, startling her. I presented my case, falling to my knees and professing my love. She paled and fled. Seconds later Matthew slammed me against the windows, his hand wrapped around my throat. I still remember his face as he tried to choke the life from me. He radiated anger, commanding I leave and never return. Seizing the opportunity, I explained my current financial situation and requested compensation.”
“What did Mr. Hastings offer?”
“A modest sum,” replied Morris, “to which I countered, adding I wanted immediate possession of the Hastings’ ancestral jewels. He adamantly refused. We did eventually arrive at an agreeable figure. I returned late that evening, after the party dispersed, to collect my portion.”
Benjamin remained silent for a moment. “Then you killed him?”
“Yes.”
“How?” asked Benjamin quietly.
“Poison.”
“And your father, was his death a result of your greed as well?”
“Undeniably.” Morris grinned. “No one even suspected his demise was unnatural. I can still picture his face—bewildered as he realized my deceit. By then the poison already coursed through his body.”
Benjamin stared in revulsion, his thoughts whirling. “How many people have you murdered?” he asked with horror.
“I lost count.” Morris shrugged, broadening his evil grin.
“Franklin.” Miss Hastings’ hoarse voice barely reached Benjamin’s ears. “Please. I will help you. Please, Franklin, let me go.”
Maniacal laughter echoed around the study as Morris studied the girl in his arms. “My dear Samantha, you had an opportunity to comply with my wishes. Now, I have no intention of allowing you to live. Your whole family must be punished.”
“Franklin, please,” said Miss Hastings, widening her blue eyes and cupping his face with her free hand. “I thought we were friends, family.”
“An act, you are easily misled,” replied Morris cruelly, shaking off her hand.
“But once you kill her, how will you escape?” asked Benjamin, his ears straining for sounds in the foyer. Edward should have arrived by now. “I am not going to step aside and allow you to leave.”
“That is a valid point.” Morris scrunched his mouth, considering the question for a moment. “I suppose I will have to kill you too.”
“You could.” Benjamin took a miniscule step toward Morris. “However, you would spend the rest of your life in hiding. Edward knows you are responsible for the death of his father, and he wants revenge.”
Morris raised his eyebrows, digesting Benjamin’s words. “I am not afraid.”
“There is no reason you need to die.”
“You have a different suggestion?”
“I do,” replied Benjamin taking another step.
Morris tightened his grip on Miss Hastings. “I am a reasonable man, Lord Westwood, what is your proposition?”
Benjamin stared at Miss Hastings for a moment, praying she would understand his intention or at least forgive him. He took a deep breath and refocused his attention on Morris. Then he opened his mouth and lied.
“The Westwood Estate is insolvent, a situation to which I am sure you can relate. There are so many debts, I can hardly fathom them all. I have been borrowing money from Edward for years to keep the creditors at bay. When he disappeared two years ago, all my old debts were forgiven”—he inclined his head toward Morris—“thank you for your assistance with that matter. Although it became apparent of late, I needed to marry a wealthy woman in order to preserve my extravagant lifestyle. As you are aware, appearances must be maintained. The truth is, I was only marrying Miss Hastings for her money.”
The twin shock on both Miss Hastings’ and Morris’ faces was evidence they both believed his deception. Miss Hastings’ stood frozen, her mouth open in a tiny “o.” The color drained from her face, further accentuating the purple bruise on her cheek. The audible shattering of her heart felt like an icicle plunged itself deep into Benjamin’s stomach.
Benjamin embellished the story. “Imagine my surprise when I discovered Mr. Hastings named me guardian over his ill-mannered little sister and all of her holdings. It was the answer for which I had been searching. Unfortunately, I had the laborious task of discouraging every suitor who inquired about Miss Hastings, not to mention the painstaking steps I took to woo her.”
Benjamin forced a grin, his eyes locked on Morris’ face. The image of Samantha’s raw pain floated through his mind. Even if she never forgave him for his deception, he would spend every moment of his life fighting to convince her how much he truly loved her.
“Mr. Lockhearst’s proposed bribe for her hand tempted me. However, he was unwilling to match the sum I requested.”
“A true businessman,” said Morris in approval.
Benjamin nodded, accepting Morris’ praise. “When Mr. Hastings shockingly reappeared, so did my entire monetary obligation. I realized he would never force Miss Hastings to repay my loans and increased my efforts to pursue her hand. Mr. Hastings did consider me an inappropriate match at first; however, I was able to convince him otherwise.”
Morris studied him with curiosity. “How did you manage that feat?”
Benjamin shook his head with a wink. “Trade secret, Mr. Morris. I cannot reveal all my tricks.”
“Oh ho,” laughed Morris, joyful tears streaming down his face. “Samantha, you really are a terrible judge of character. You never should have involved yourself with such a notorious rake. I only hope you did not fall prey to his charms.”
Morris spun Miss Hastings around in his arms. Grasping her chin, he lifted her face and stared into her despondent eyes. “My, my, my, I guess you are a ruined woman after all.”
Benjamin held his attention on Morris, watching the exchange silently. Miss Hastings swayed unsteadily on her feet, her pale face haunted and empty. She refused to look over at him.
“Lord Westwood, I must tip my hat to you.” Morris’ eyes flicked to Benjamin. “You are a kindred spirit. I, myself, attempted a similar plan. However, I had no idea I was competing against such a master in the art of seduction.”
“My proposal,” said Benjamin with an encouraging smile.
“Yes, what sort of arrangement did you have in mind?”
“It will take some time to find another wealthy bride.”
“Of course, of course.” Morris nodded, gesturing impatiently
“I would need some sort of compensation to survive until that happy event occurs.”
Morris’ eyes narrowed. “What sort of compensation?”
“Five thousand, no less, and I will walk away right now. I will inform Edward I discovered Miss Hastings’ body with the actual killer, a previously unknown gentleman. You will be free to do as you wish.”
“How am I to guarantee you will not return for another payment?” asked Morris, thoughtfully stroking his chin.
Benjamin paused a moment, contemplating the question. Then he leveled his gaze at Morris and spoke in an even tone. “I will help you kill Miss Hastings.”
Miss Hastings gasped and fainted, her limp form slumping against Morris. Surprised by the sudden weight in his arms, he dropped her. She landed in a graceless lump at his feet. He stared down at her with disgust, yanking his foot out from underneath her immobile form.
Taking advantage of Morris’ momentary distraction, Benjamin launched himself across the room and caught Morris around the middle of his torso, knocking Morris off his feet. However, he reacted quickly to the sudden attack, punching Benjamin in the stomach. The two men rolled in a ball of limbs, sending the knife skittering across the floor.
Benjamin, stronger than Morris, used his weight to pin him to the ground. Morris swung wildly, connecting his left hand with Benjamin’s chin, the crack causing stars to dance in front of Benjamin’s eyes. Stunned, Benjamin felt himself rolled to the side as Morris made a desperate grab for the knife, glittering ominously under Mrs. Hastings’ ruined desk. Benjamin’s hand closed around Morris’ leg, yanking back. Kicking his free leg, Morris struck Benjamin’s temple, then scrambled toward the desk.
Shaking his head to clear his vision, Benjamin rose, chasing after Morris. Morris’ fingers grasped the knife handle and blindly slashed it backward in the air toward Benjamin. Benjamin jumped sideways to avoid the blade and crashed into an overturned chair. Pain detonated in his left leg and Benjamin collapsed, tangled in the rungs of the chair. Morris descended with a depraved smirk.
CLICK!
The men paused and turned mechanically toward the sound. Frozen, Morris hovered over Benjamin, the knife raised in striking position. Miss Hastings stood, pistol gripped tightly in both hands, glaring lividly at them. Her terrifying expression sent chills racing down Benjamin’s spine. A woman scorned.
Did she intend to shoot both of them?
“Samantha, what are you doing?” Morris patronized as he lowered the knife. “You do not know how to use a pistol.”
“Of course, I do.” Miss Hastings laughed mirthlessly. “If Edward was willing to teach me something as inappropriate as fencing, do you not think he would allow me the courtesy of learning to use a pistol?”
She tilted her head to the side and smiled winningly at Morris. “Would you like me to show you?”
“You really should not antagonize her,” said Benjamin, his eyes trained on the barrel as he remembered Aidan’s description of Miss Hastings’ shooting prowess. If she shot half as well as Alana, both men were in extreme danger.
Morris took a step toward Miss Hastings, his hand outstretched in a nonthreatening position, the knife hidden behind his back. “Samantha, my dear cousin, you know me. I am your family, your true friend, I have been since your birth.”
“You are a murderer.”
Morris bared his teeth and lunged at Miss Hastings with a growl, the knife slicing through the air.
“No!” Benjamin yelled from the floor, still tangled up in the chair.
Miss Hastings squeezed the trigger. The bullet struck Morris in the right shoulder. Shock crossed his face as pain spread down his arm, causing him to drop the knife. It landed with a clink. Blood spurting from the open wound, his face paling, he sank down onto the floor.
“Why Sammie?” He mumbled pitifully, his chubby face frozen in agony.
Miss Hastings plucked the knife from the floor before Morris could react, her eyes never leaving his face. She slid the penny knife closed, palming it in her left hand. The pistol she aimed directly at Benjamin’s heart.
Benjamin slowly rose from the floor and with a grimace, limped toward Miss Hastings, holding his hand out. “Give me the gun, Miss Hastings.”
She glowered at him and shook her head fiercely. “No.”
“Samantha.” His voice strained. “Please, hand me the pistol.”
She refused to lower the gun, glaring at him, her hand quivering, the air shimmering with her fury. “You lied to me.”