After almost three weeks of being locked away in a room in the Red Door, Braden was about to go mad. The third floor had at one time been a high-end brothel, which they had removed when they bought the place. They were in the gaming business, not the whoring business. So Jonathon, Alistair, and Braden all had private rooms and took one room for conversation. Needless to say, Braden should be happy the accommodations were so fine, but not knowing what was going on in the world made him feel like a prisoner.
His biggest worry was Tia. Had she arrived back at the estate safely? Did she truly hate him? Would she ever forgive him? He would not know the answer to any of those questions until the bastard trying to kill them came forward. How much longer would this take?
It mattered not. He was done waiting for this to happen. He had to find out if Tia was safe or not. Nothing else mattered. He rose from his seat, gulped the rest of his watered-down brandy, and walked toward the door.
“Are you retiring?” Adams said, entering the room. “I thought we might share some of the good stuff. It’s very quiet downstairs tonight.”
“No, I’m leaving.”
Adams put his arm across the doorway, blocking Braden’s exit. “No, you are not.”
“Bloody hell, man. I need to know if she is safe.”
“If you leave now, you will ruin this for everyone. You will put your life at risk and for what?”
“For the woman I love,” Braden said harshly. “I cannot stand here and do nothing. What if someone tried to hurt her when she left town?”
“Then I believe her sister would have heard something by now. Hart would have sent a note to me.”
Braden knew his friend was right, but hated feeling helpless. “Very well, what do I do now?”
“Unfortunately, you wait.” Adams poured two snifters of brandy and handed one to Braden. “Whoever is heir is taking their time. I heard a solicitor was asking questions of Nelson.”
“To what end?”
Adams sipped his brandy. “About the night of your supposed death. Was it normal for the three of you to go play cards outside of the house, etc.”
Braden returned to his seat and sipped the brandy. This was the stuff they served to the high-end clients who could afford it.
“If this man has to prove his legal right to inherit, it might take even longer.” Braden lowered his voice so Jonathon and Alistair would not hear them from their bedrooms.
Adams dropped into a chair. “I wish there was something I could do for you.”
“Just letting us stay here is enough. I cannot thank you enough for that.”
A knock hammered the door at the top of the stairs. “Mr. Adams,” a booming voice sounded. “We need you downstairs immediately. There is a woman attempting to gain entrance. She said she will not go away until she speaks to you.”
“Damned women. When will a mistress learn she has no right to a man’s time unless he decides to give it,” Adams grumbled. “I will be right down to speak with her.”
“Bring up more of the good brandy when you return,” Braden said. “I think it might be the only way I am going to sleep tonight.”
Adams laughed. “I will. And I might just join you in a glass or two.”
“Please do. I am rather tired of the company I have to keep right now.” At least all this time together had proved to him that Jonathon was no longer eating opium.
Adams walked away chuckling.
Braden went back to his worrying. A few minutes later, a commotion near the stairs forced him to look up. A flash of red entered the hall.
“This way,” Adams said in an angry tone. “Do you have any idea of the danger you put yourself in, not to mention him?”
“He is here, isn’t he?”
Braden’s heart melted hearing her voice. She was safe. “Tia?” he shouted, not caring if he woke his brother and cousin.
The flash of red raced into the room and threw herself in his arms. “Braden,” she exclaimed.
“What are you doing here? And how did you figure out I was here?” A million questions entered his mind, but those were the first out of his mouth.
She pulled away and cupped his cheeks before kissing him passionately. Her tongue brushed against his, sending desire spiraling through his body. Slowly, she broke away with a shy smile. “I know who it is.”
“How can you possibly know? Did the man pay you a visit?”
“No, her solicitor did.”
“Her? That makes no sense, Tia.”
Her smile widened, showing her small white teeth. She yanked a book out of the valise she’d been carrying. “Yes, it does, if you read this.”
“Go get some more brandy, Adams.”
“I’ll bring it up, but do not start this story until I return.” Adams ran down the stairs.
Braden looked down at Tia. “I believe you must have figured out my deception. Were you terribly angry with me?”
“Yes,” she admitted. “Until a solicitor paid us a visit and I realized exactly why you had staged that argument over Emily.”
“It wasn’t entirely staged, Tia.” He hated having to tell her this because of how it made him look, but he had no choice. Keeping secrets between them was no way to start a marriage.
“What do you mean?” She took a step out of his arms.
“I had been courting Emily.” Braden blew out a breath. “It was right after I inherited the title and decided to reform. I didn’t want to fall in love again after Penelope, so I was purely looking for a woman who would be a good wife. No trouble. I thought Emily was that woman.”
She pressed her lips together.
“Then she met Jonathon. I had come to love Emily in a sweet way. There was no real passion between us. But I guess there was passion with her and Jonathon. At first, I thought he had deliberately tried to entice her away from me. I was actually pleased when she married Eldridge. Now that I’ve seen them together, I realize they weren’t thinking of me at all.”
“Are you in love with her?” she whispered, trying to keep her tears at bay.
“No, sweetheart. I am in love with you.”
Adams entered the room again and just stared at them. “You didn’t tell him yet, did you?”
“No, we were waiting for you,” Braden said, suddenly content. He could stay in this room forever as long as she was with him.
They all sat down before Adams asked, “Should we wake your brother and cousin?”
“Let them sleep. I want to hear why my betrothed seems to believe a woman is at fault here.”
“Because she is,” Tia said with a grin. “As I read through this book, I discovered two things of importance. First, you are most likely a real Tavers. Apparently, every couple of generations, a black-haired, blue-eyed child is born. To date, none have been firstborn males, so you may be the first. Secondly, when the letter of patent was written, the first Viscount Middleton begged for a codicil to be added, allowing a female to inherit should no male family members be alive.”
“And that was allowed?” Braden asked.
“Yes,” Tia continued. “The first viscount had only daughters and no other male members of his family were alive. The codicil was added on the condition that the man she married took the Tavers name. So far, there has only been one Viscountess Middleton in her own right.”
Braden sipped his brandy in thought. There was only one female he could think of who would do all this. “Constance.”
“Yes, I have checked the lineage and she is the next in line to inherit.”
“Well, certain things are starting to make sense now,” Braden said. “Mary used to be her maid. I wondered why she didn’t go with Constance.”
“Once you and Jonathon were out of the way, Mary could have poisoned Alistair,” Tia said.
“Of course, but Constance must have been frustrated by my inability to die for her. She saw the opportunity to have Mary act as your maid, thus getting her into my house. And having easy access to the poison with your bag of herbs.”
“Exactly. I would not be surprised to learn she wanted me blamed for your poisoning.” Tia finally took a sip of her brandy.
Braden shook his head. “And she must have somehow learned that I was visiting Emily the day of the carriage accident.”
Tia’s eyes widened. “I had forgotten about that! She even asked Hart to stay so she could speak with him. That little bitch!”
“But why?” Adams asked. “Why would she care about becoming a viscountess? Isn’t she married to a baron?”
“Yes,” Braden replied. “So why would she care about becoming a viscountess?”
“I do not know,” Tia admitted. “But she is the heiress apparent with you three dead.”
Braden stood ready to leave. “I will go speak with her.”
“And say what?” Tia asked. “ ‘I believe you tried to kill me, but here I am, not truly dead’? You cannot do that. We must come up with a plan.”
“She is right, Middleton,” Adams added before refilling his glass. “And Miss Featherstone is the only one who can speak with Constance.”
“Bloody hell, no!”
“Until we have proof that she is involved, you are to remain dead,” Adams said as Tia nodded.
Braden shook his head. He was outnumbered, but the idea of letting Tia confront a possible killer sent pain straight to his heart.
Tia sat in the chair, tapping her finger against the glass in her hand. What Adams said made sense. She could pay a call of condolence on Constance for the loss of Alistair. It was just a matter of the lady letting her inside the house. But then what would she do?
“She has to do it, Middleton,” Adams insisted. “Who else can?”
“Hart,” Braden said.
“No,” Tia finally spoke up. “She would never admit anything in front of Hart. But she might slip in anger toward me.”
“No, I will not allow it,” Braden said roughly. “Anything could happen to you.”
“True, but I have to try. What good is pretending to be dead if she doesn’t admit anything? I might be able to make her slip.”
“I will be there too,” Adams said. “I have business with Bunworth. There is no need for anyone to know that Miss Featherstone and I are acquainted with each other, but we will arrive near the same time. She will only be there a few minutes before I get there. Bunworth’s study backs to the main salon where she has visitors.”
“No,” Braden said again. “I will not put your life at risk.”
“My life is at risk until she is caught, because I am not leaving your side,” Tia retorted. “Mr. Adams has an excellent plan and we will proceed with it. Would one be a good time?”
“A very good time,” Adams replied.
“I have no say in this?” Braden asked sullenly.
“No,” Adams and Tia said together.
“Miss Featherstone, do you have another dress?” Adams asked bashfully. “I do not think Lady Bunworth will receive you in that gown.”
“Could you send a note to Mrs. Abbott? She will provide you with a more appropriate dress for paying calls,” Tia said to Adams.
“Of course,” Adams said. “I believe I shall leave you two and retire. Middleton, I do believe there is more brandy, but I doubt you’ll need it now.”
Tia glanced between them, not understanding their conversation. “What are you speaking of?”
“He will tell you, Miss Featherstone—or rather, he will show you.” Adams chuckled as he left the room. “Good night,” he managed to get out once he reached the door at the top of the stairs.
“What was that about?” Tia asked.
“I told him the only way I would sleep tonight is with some brandy.” Braden rose and held out his hand for her. “But I believe I have found a far more pleasant way to sleep.”
“Oh?” she asked in an overly innocent tone.
“Naked, sated, and with you next to me.”
By noon the next day, Tia’s nerves were drawn taut. With no maid to help her dress, Braden did his best to assist her with her stays, buttons, and pins. Her hair was another issue. Tia had no talent at dressing hair. She doubted Braden would do any better. Once she was dressed, she put her hair into a simple twist at the back of her neck.
“I should be wearing black, shouldn’t I?” she asked, looking down at the blue muslin.
“Well, you don’t have any black gowns here. Just tell Constance that you can’t afford a new dress.”
“I am sure she would believe that.” She looked in the mirror and swallowed back her fear. “I need to bring the book with me.”
“Why?”
“Because she won’t believe me without it.”
Braden reached over and handed her the book. “Please be careful. I hate the idea of you going out there and doing what I should be doing.”
“You cannot without exposing what you did. Once she confesses, then we can explain that you did it for your personal safety. Or we shall lie and say the three of you had gone to your hunting lodge, not that house to play cards.” She leaned over and kissed him softly. “Try not to worry.”
“That is surely an impossible task,” he whispered.
A knock hammered the door. “Are you ready, Miss Featherstone?”
“Yes.” She walked out of the room and noticed both Jonathon and Alistair standing in the hall.
“Be careful, Tia,” Jonathon said solemnly.
“Yes, please have a care, Miss Featherstone,” Alistair added.
“Thank you, gentlemen.” Tia felt dreadful for them all. It could not be easy to see a woman trying to coerce a confession out of someone. Her hands shook as she grabbed her reticule from the hall table.
Adams took her arm. “You will go first. I will have my driver park a block away, so if by chance anyone sees you it will appear that you had walked to her home. I will arrive soon after by carriage.”
“What if one of them is not at home?”
“I have a boy watching the house. If either leaves, he will give a sign as we drive by. If they are not both home, we shall do this another day.” He showed her around to the back door so no one would see them leave together.
“Thank you for all your assistance, Mr. Adams. You are a good friend to Middleton.”
Adams acknowledged the compliment with a nod.
They drove through Mayfair in silence, each trying to formulate their upcoming conversations. As the carriage rolled past the Bunworth home, Adams glanced out the window. Tia tried to see what he looked at, but the man’s body blocked her sight. He sat back and pounded once on the roof of the carriage.
Before she had a chance to ask, the carriage slowed to a stop. “Am I to assume they are at home, then?”
“Yes.” He waited in the carriage as the driver helped her out. “Do not take any chances, Miss Featherstone. Middleton will kill me if some any harm befalls you.”
“Thank you,” she said softly. Her nerves were tight while she walked down the street. She had to get Constance to confess. Tia just had no idea how she would even get the woman to speak with her.
She approached the door with trepidation. She lifted the brass knocker and let it fall from her hand. The door opened and the butler stood at attention.
“Miss Featherstone to see Lady Bunworth.”
“I shall see if she is at home. Please wait here.”
Tia was certain he only let her in so she could get out of the light rain that had just started to fall. The butler whispered to a footman and then returned to his post. Tia waited for close to five minutes before the footman returned.
“Lady Bunworth will be down presently.” He gestured to the salon. “Please wait here.”
Tia walked into the salon and prayed this was the one that backed to Bunworth’s study. She had no way of knowing if it did. This was the same room in which Constance had entertained her and Braden.
“Well, this is a surprise indeed,” Constance’s voice sounded from the hall. “Why would Middleton’s mistress pay a call on me?” She entered the room with a bluster of black bombazine. “I could only think of one reason and the answer is no.”
Tia rose and gave her a quick curtsey. “I have no idea to what you are referring, Lady Bunworth. I only came to give you my condolences on the loss of your brother.”
Her face softened slightly, almost making Tia think she had the wrong person. “Thank you, Miss Featherstone.”
The front door opened and Tia heard Adams’s voice.
“Now who is it?” Constance asked in an annoyed tone.
The butler walked past the door. “It’s a Mr. Adams to see Lord Bunworth.”
Constance’s eyes widened as if in panic. “Mr. Adams?”
“Yes, my lady.” The butler continued on with Adams following on his heels.
“Are you all right, Lady Bunworth? You look quite peaked.” Tia felt a pang of concern for the woman.
“Do you know of Mr. Adams?”
“No, is he someone of importance?” Tia asked, wondering how the lady knew of him. There was only one way that made sense. And that changed her tactics.
She shook her head. “No, he is not important at all.” She sat in the chair across from Tia. “Why exactly are you here, Miss Featherstone? I doubt you came all this way just to give me your condolences when a simple note would have sufficed. I suppose you came here to beg me for money?”
Tia smiled at the bitter woman. “Why would I have a need for that? Oh, I am dreadfully sorry. You must not have heard that Middleton changed his will. Since I was to be his wife, I am the sole beneficiary to his fortune. Of course, the estate will go to the next heir, but Middleton confessed to me that the estate was doing poorly.”
“I beg your pardon?” Constance rose from her seat and glared down at her. “He left his fortune to you, not the next viscount?”
“Yes, Lady Bunworth. Apparently, we both received what we wanted. Me, the money. And you, the title. That was what you were after, wasn’t it?”