CHAPTER FIFTEEN

When Adam, freshly washed and clad in clean clothes, descended the stairs a short while later, Vincent awaited him in the hall.

‘Where might I find His Lordship?’

‘He is out riding, my lord. With some of the men.’

Adam’s brows rose. ‘Out in the woods?’

‘I believe so. He desired me to tell you on no account were you to follow him and he will come to see you the minute he returns.’

Adam’s instinct was, indeed, to follow, but common sense warned him he was unlikely to be much use and his arm had stiffened up enough to make him reluctant to attempt to ride.

‘Very well. You may consider your duty discharged, Vincent. I shall continue my work in the library, so that is where I shall be when His Lordship returns.’

The plans he had been working on had completely slipped his mind in among everything that had happened that afternoon and, although his wound might render fine draughtsmanship as tricky as horse riding, he could use the time to sketch out rough ideas and plans. That would help to distract him from that shot and from what Robert might discover.

Nothing, however, could distract him from Kitty.

‘How fares Lady Fenton?’

‘I believe Her Ladyship is resting in her room, my lord. Might I bring you refreshments to the library?’

‘Thank you, Vincent.’ What he really wanted was a dram of whisky, but Robert did not keep that heathen spirit in the house. ‘A glass of brandy would be most welcome.’

He strolled to the library, his heart full of fear and his head full of images of Kitty.

She could have been killed.

He’d been aware of that ever since the shot rang out, but so much had been happening that the full horror of it had been kept at bay. Now, though, alone with his thoughts as he entered the library, that knowledge hit him with force. It would be impossible to concentrate on work, so he swerved away from the desk and, instead, headed for a wingback chair by the centre window. Vincent appeared a moment later, carrying a tray with a decanter and two glasses, and set them on a table within reach of the chair.

‘Two glasses?’

‘For if His Lordship wishes to join you in a glass upon his return, my lord.’

Vincent poured brandy into one glass, bowed, and then left the library, closing the door softly behind him.

Adam reached for the glass, drained it in one and then refilled it. He closed his eyes, tilting his head to rest on the back of the chair, and willed away the utter terror that now paralysed him at the thought of what could have happened.

She could have been killed!

Images again filled his brain.

Kitty… I’ve only just found her. I could have lost her again.

Had it been deliberate? Aimed at him? If it was…there was only one culprit he could think of.

‘Uncle Grenville.’

The rustle of fabric reached his ears seconds before the scent of flowers with a top note of citrus registered. ‘My thoughts precisely.’

His eyes flew open. He sat up straight and glared at Kitty. ‘Ye should be resting.’

‘As should you.’

‘I am.’

A brief smile flickered on her lips. She gestured, indicating the chair in which she was now sitting. ‘As am I.’

He scowled. ‘Will ye please stop humouring me? Ye should be in bed.’

With me. A new, mouth-watering picture now filled his head… Kitty, in bed, the covers rumpled, her hair loose around her shoulders, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire. He thrust aside that image.

‘But I am too restless. I want to talk about what happened. Or, more to the point, talk about who might have been responsible. And it would seem we have reached the same conclusion.’

‘I was thinking aloud,’ Adam growled. God, I just want to hold her. Protect her always. ‘Ye weren’t meant to hear that.’

Her brows arched. ‘Of course I was not, because I am a lady and must therefore be shielded from the brutal reality of this world.’

That was close to what she had said before. She had been so happy he had told her the truth…and he could not disagree with her point. She was—and he could verify it—no child.

‘What you mean,’ she continued, ‘is that you would not say such a thing to me because I am female. I should be prostrate upon my bed because I am female. We spoke about this earlier—I need neither protection nor cossetting. It happened. I was there. Someone shot at us…with you as the most likely target…yet I am expected to quash any conjecture or curiosity because of my sex?’

‘Put like that, no. Of course not. But ye were in a state of shock when I last set eyes upon ye.’

Her eyes narrowed. ‘As. Were. You. And yet…’ again, she gestured ‘…here you are and here am I.’

Adam sighed and shook his head. ‘Ye’re just as stubborn as I recall.’

Her smile lit her face. ‘And, you will find, just as opinionated. So…may we discuss your uncle and his possible involvement as adults or is it your intention to exclude me entirely from what you and Robert will surely talk about upon his return?’

How could he deny her? She was beautiful and charming and graceful: the most desirable woman he had ever known—and he included her younger self in that—but, more than that…so much more…she fascinated him. Now they had cleared the air between them, he felt he could talk with her for hours and never grow tired of listening to her, watching her. He wanted her, physically. But that could wait. For now, what she was asking him was that he treat her as an equal…as though he were talking with another man. And so that is what he would do. And he would always strive to respect her wishes.

‘Let us talk, then.’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘Would ye care for refreshments? Shall I ring for Vincent?’

‘You may pour me a brandy, if you will,’ said Kitty. ‘There is no need to disturb Vincent when there is a spare glass just begging to be filled.’

‘Is there no end to your rebellion? Brandy in the afternoon? Quite shocking!’

She grinned and, for the first time since they had met again, those beloved dimples made an appearance. ‘It is good for shock. You said so yourself.’

Adam poured the brandy and handed her the glass. She grew serious then, staring reflectively into the amber liquid as she swirled it gently.

‘Seriously, Adam…do you truly suspect your uncle?’

He didn’t want to think it, but what other explanation could there be? If it had been a deliberate act.

‘I think we are agreed it was unlikely to be a stray shot from poachers,’ he said, still pondering, ‘and someone pulled that trigger. Twice.’

‘So…you do not believe it was accidental?’

‘No. And, as I can think of no one I have angered enough to cause him to wish for my death, I fail to see we can reach any other conclusion,’

‘Or her.’

‘Her? No!’

‘Because a female would never kill?’

He huffed a laugh. ‘Not a bit of it. Women, I am sure, nurse grievances and think murderous thoughts just as men do. I meant I can think of no female I have angered enough for her to wish to end my life.’

‘No other young ladies you have wooed and then abandoned?’

He started at her question.

‘I apologise.’ She looked contrite. ‘Now it is my turn to squirm at an attempted jest that has fallen flat.’

Adam did wonder how much truth lay behind that question. He’d known she’d be upset when he left, but… He raised his brows. ‘Tell me ye never hated me enough to wish me dead, Kitty.’

‘No. Of course not. I cannot imagine hating anyone as much as that.’

‘I am relieved to hear it. And, in answer to your question—no.’

‘Which leaves your uncle. Or…’ A frown knit her brow.

‘Or?’

‘Your cousin. Bartholomew Trewin. Your uncle is your heir and, after him, your cousin.’

‘Tolly? No…surely not. He is…that is…he seems a good man. And he is a friend of Robert’s, is he not?’

He felt his colour rise under her scrutiny. ‘Do you believe that good men cannot be driven to do bad things, given desperate circumstances?’

‘Why, of course not. But… Tolly…what circumstances? He gave nae hint of debts or such.’

He desperately did not want to suspect his cousin but, now the notion had been put into his head, he could not deny Tolly would probably have more cause to wish Adam dead than Uncle Grenville. Tolly was still at Kelridge on the day Adam left, so either man could have ridden over to Fenton Hall and stalked the woods. But…to what purpose?

‘As a plan, it left much to be desired,’ he said. ‘What if I had been more conscientious and remained working at my desk? How long would my assailant wait, hoping to take a pot shot at me?’

‘Hmmm.’ Kitty tapped her lips with one forefinger, frowning. ‘Tell me…did you establish a routine of any sort while you were at Kelridge?’

Adam eyed her with admiration. He hadn’t even considered that, but it was logical. ‘I did ride out most afternoons. It became something of a habit.’

It had become a necessity, if he was honest. Anything to get away from that stifling atmosphere in which he’d felt more and more of an interloper. Maybe he should air his concerns, especially as they pointed more definitely at his uncle as the culprit.

‘To be honest, I found it difficult to settle at Kelridge. There was this…oh, I don’t know… I suppose you’d call it an undercurrent. And not a pleasant one.’

‘I am sorry to hear that, but you must have expected it to be a difficult period of adjustment. Not only for you, but for everyone at Kelridge Place.’ Kitty frowned. ‘Was your father popular among the staff? I had heard he could be…difficult.’

‘He was, without doubt, unpopular.’ And that was an understatement. ‘Did you never meet him?’

‘No. Edgar knew him, of course, but our paths never crossed. I have heard that your uncle has improved the estate a great deal since he took over running it, though.’

‘So I have been told. Many times.’

‘It makes sense, therefore, that the servants and other workers will view him favourably.’

‘Without doubt. That message was made clear in numerous subtle and not-so-subtle ways by many senior members of my staff. Grenville Trewin is still regarded as the true master of Kelridge Hall, no matter what the laws on primogeniture and entails might decree.’

And he was beginning to wish he had never learned the truth. That his mother had kept her secret to her grave. Except…he would not then have met Kitty again. And that was unthinkable.

‘Hopefully that will all change once I have an heir of my own.’ An image of Kitty with a babe in her arms appeared in his mind’s eye, filling him with hope and contentment. The future looked rosier than it had for many, many years. But he was rushing ahead of himself. He must keep to the topic at hand. ‘That would soon quash any random hopes that my uncle will ever fully control the reins again.’

Adam emptied his brandy glass. Without a word, Kitty leaned forward and refilled both his glass and her own. She sat back and sipped as she stared at the window, her fine brows drawn together.

‘Maybe,’ she said, after a few minutes’ reflection, ‘they fear you are your father’s son? If he was a cruel master, they will fear a return to that regime.’

‘But I have given them no reason to suppose I am like my father. In fact, I have been at pains to be friendly in my dealings with them.’

Kitty tucked her lips between her teeth. Adam scowled at her. ‘What is so funny?’

‘Servants, my dear Adam, do not appreciate their masters trying to make friends with them. They want to serve a man they can look up to and respect. A master who can make them feel superior to servants in the neighbouring houses. You must understand that they have their pride, too. And a nobleman is expected to behave as such.’

‘I do not wish to live in that manner of household. I want a more relaxed feeling, like when I was growing up. I canna believe they wouldn’t appreciate that.’

Kitty smiled at him. The tenderness in her look evoked a swell of longing, but a longing tinged with a sadness he couldn’t place until Ma’s face materialised in his mind’s eye. Sadness and guilt, that was it. He thrust his fingers through his hair, sweeping it back from his face.

‘Anyway. We are straying from the point. Yes, I established a routine of sorts, but why would my uncle or anyone else suppose I would continue that routine at Fenton Hall?’

‘That is true, and the theory has been disproved because you did not ride out. You went for a walk.’

‘And we are no nearer to finding out who might wish me dead.’

Kitty shuddered. ‘It is a horrid feeling. It may not, of course, be about the money. It might be the lure of the title. I heard Tolly was hanging out for Lady Sarah Bamford—a duke’s daughter might lower herself to wed an earl, but I doubt either she or her father would countenance an offer from plain Mr Trewin.’

Adam laughed. ‘You have a lurid imagination there, Kitty. You believe Tolly might commit murder for love? You should write novels!’

She stared at him blankly for a moment. ‘Now there is a thought. I take it you disapprove of such mindless drivel?’

‘I neither approve nor disapprove. I have never read one and I have no wish to waste my time on such an activity. Do I take it ye are an avid reader of novels?’

‘I am. I particularly enjoy the work of the late Miss Austen—she has a sharp wit and holds a mirror up to society with all its faults and contradictions. Her books are amusing, but also interesting in their insight into human behaviour.’

‘Well, I have no objection to others indulging in such a pastime if they wish to waste their time. It is not for me, however.’

‘And you can state that without ever having read a novel?’ Kitty shook her head, leaving Adam feeling he had somehow disappointed her. ‘Anyway…to return to the matter in hand, I do not say Tolly would kill for the sake of love, but I would urge you to keep an open mind. People do kill for love…there was a case recently where a man poisoned his wife in order that he might be free to marry his mistress. I agree to the feeling that Mr Grenville Trewin is the more likely culprit, but that is illogical. My instinct is simply because I like your cousin and I really do not know your uncle very well. However, being less likeable does not make a man guilty.’

‘Ye’re right. I’ll keep an open mind. I hope Robert might discover something in his search of the woods.’

Kitty started up from her chair. ‘Robert is searching the woods? Adam…why did you not stop him?’

Adam surged to his feet and caught Kitty’s arm as she headed for the door. ‘I didna know until after he had gone. But ye need have no fear. He has taken men with him. He will be in no danger.’

‘Oh! Of course. How silly of me. I did not think… I dare say I am still more rattled than I thought.’

‘Ye’re trembling.’ Adam wrapped his arms around Kitty. ‘There’s nothing to be afraid of. I promise.’

She leaned into him and he tightened his embrace as he breathed in her scent…the scent he now recognised as Kitty. This Kitty, not the girl he had loved, but the woman she was now. He tipped up her chin and lost himself in their kiss as her arms encircled his waist and she hugged him close.

The sound of the door opening sent Adam’s heart leaping into his throat as he and Kitty sprang apart. His face burned as he turned to face Robert, who sauntered into the room, his expression innocent of even a hint of suspicion. Adam’s pounding heart slowed as his breathing eased—he needed all the friends he could get at the moment and he had no wish for his feelings for Kitty to drive a wedge between himself and Robert.

‘Robert! You are back!’ Kitty’s voice was too high-pitched and even though Robert appeared not to have seen their embrace, Kitty still managed to look and sound panicky as she launched into speech. ‘I… Lord Kelridge and I were discussing what happened. I was so afraid you might be shot at too. I…we…’

Her words petered out. She looked helplessly at Adam and he sent her a look of reassurance.

‘Did you see anyone, Rob?’

‘No one. And you, Stepmama, should be in bed.’ Robert eyed the table and the two half-drunk glasses. He quirked a brow at Adam. ‘So…not content with failing to ensure my stepmother gets the rest she needs, you have encouraged her to partake of spirits.’

He strode back across the library, opened the door and stuck his head around it. Adam heard him request another glass and he took advantage of Robert’s distraction to catch Kitty’s eye.

‘He did not see us.’

‘I know. But I still find it hard to believe he didn’t notice anything amiss,’ Kitty whispered. ‘I could not help but panic… Edgar was his father and—’

Kitty fell silent as Robert returned.

‘As I was saying,’ he said, ‘we saw no one, but we did find fresh hoofprints entering and leaving the wood from the road.’

He dragged a third chair to join the other two and then gestured for Kitty to sit. Once she was settled the two men both sat. Vincent brought in a third glass and Robert poured himself a generous measure of brandy and topped up Adam’s glass. When Kitty wordlessly held out her own glass for a refill, he obliged with only a slight flick of one brow in Adam’s direction. But Adam could settle for that. Better he blame Adam for leading Kitty astray with brandy than he should suspect what Adam really wanted to do with his stepmother.

‘Did ye glean anything from those prints?’

‘Nothing. I am afraid we are no closer to knowing who was responsible than we were before.’

Adam told Robert briefly what he and Kitty had been discussing.

‘Tolly? Well… I should not like to think…but if that was an attempt to kill you, Adam, it makes sense it must be by someone who stands to benefit. And that can only lead to either your Uncle Grenville, or to Tolly.’

‘Do ye doubt it was an attempt on my life, Rob?’

‘No, but…’ Robert frowned. ‘Why wait until now? If it was your uncle or your cousin, they had ample opportunity while you were at Kelridge Place.’

‘Could they think they’re less likely to fall under suspicion if Adam is attacked away from Kelridge?’

‘They could. But the timing makes no sense. Why now? Why not wait several months when it would be less obvious?’

‘Or, for that matter—if it was Tolly, why didn’t he try something in London?’ Robert rubbed his jaw. ‘That would make far more sense and it would surely have been easier to dismiss as a random attack by thieves, or an accident even. A spill off Westminster Bridge into the Thames has claimed many poor souls over the years. And I still cannot believe Tolly is capable of cold-blooded murder despite your theory he might be driven to drastic measures in the cause of love, Stepmama. I always said your imagination is too vivid for words.’

‘Which leaves my uncle as the main suspect. Or a complete stranger, for reasons unknown. Or…it was, after all, an accident.’