One Winter's Night, page 15
“For the Crown?” Hugo almost fell back in shock. “But Bellham took nothing seriously. To him, life was one riotous party.”
“Who would suspect the rakish fool?” She shrugged. “Mr Bellham was good at discovering information from the most unlikely sources. When I took the job as a paid companion, it was to find a way to seek vengeance for my father’s plight. While researching the background of every member of Lord Northcott’s household, Mr Bellham learned of the connection and offered to help.”
Bellham had bedded enough aristocratic women, learned enough secrets to hold the whole of Mayfair to ransom.
“Lord Northcott is no fool,” Hugo countered. “He must have made the connection.”
“I rarely ventured to town, and Venables is not my name. Mr Bellham discovered my secret when he followed me to Holborn during a visit to my father’s grave.”
Silence descended.
Miss Venables stepped up to Mr Bellham’s body and straightened his coat. “He was kind to me. All I had to do was snoop through the viscount’s papers and make a record of any shipments coming from Bordeaux, and then he promised to see me settled in a new position elsewhere.”
So, Bellham hadn’t brought the note to Wollaston Hall. Miss Venables had passed it to him at the gate.
“Smuggling liquor and tea will hardly make a man wealthy.” Hugo had pondered the thought ever since they’d first discovered the note. “He must have been shipping something of value.” Perhaps Bertie had mumbled the word jewels. “Stolen diamonds might be more lucrative.”
Picking up the boot and pushing it back onto Bellham’s foot, she said, “Lord Northcott is smuggling something far more lucrative than that. He’s smuggling spies, who in turn are bringing information to their French counterparts here in London.”
Had there been a chair close by, Hugo would have collapsed into the seat. “Northcott is working for the French? Is he insane?”
“No, desperate.” She gathered the white sheet off the floor and covered Bellham’s body. “He’s been paid a substantial amount of money to make three crossings. The docks in Southampton carry less risk.”
Did the lord not know that after committing treason his French counterparts would hold him to ransom? He would be forever ferrying people back and forth until the authorities caught up with him.
“So why did you meet Mr Bellham at the gate?” Lara asked.
“I had the information he needed. I meant to meet him before we left London. But after the first heavy snowstorm, Miss Harper wanted to leave early. I sent him a message, telling him to meet me at the gate, but it took me a while to slip away.”
“And so you gave him the note with information about the Strawbridge.”
“Yes, but I swear on my father’s grave, he was alive when I left him.” Tears trickled down her cheeks, and she placed a hand on Bellham’s lifeless body.
All the pieces of the puzzle were fitting together nicely. Still, a few questions remained unanswered. “What I fail to understand is why Miss Harper provided you with an alibi when you were absent from her room.” Knowing of Miss Harper’s vindictive nature, she would not tolerate deceit. “Does she know you frequent her brother’s bed?”
Miss Venables’ cheeks flamed as red as her hair. “Miss Harper pays me to discover her brother’s secrets. Not the secrets Mr Bellham wanted, but Miss Harper likes to know where her brother goes and how much money he spends.”
“And the viscount tells you?” Hugo mocked.
“He believes he can trust me. Most of the time, I lie to Miss Harper just to appease her.”
“If you didn’t kill Mr Bellham,” Lara said, “then it must have been the viscount. He must have seen you at the gate and sought revenge for the betrayal.”
“No,” Hugo replied. “As you said, a man of Northcott’s standing would not wield a table knife.”
They were so engrossed in the conversation they failed to hear the pad of footsteps outside. Indeed, they were unaware they were about to be confronted by the killer until Miss Harper barged into the cottage, brandishing a pocket pistol.
If anyone had ever imagined the devil rising in the guise of a woman scorned, one look at Miss Harper’s distorted features would bring the vision to life. The lady stood shrouded in a dark blue cloak, her mouth twisted in an ugly sneer as she waved her weapon back and forth.
“What a shame it has to end like this.” Miss Harper’s sinister chuckle sent the hairs on Lara’s nape bristling to attention. “It seems one cannot trust their servants with anything these days. And to think I’ve got a lovely box for you, my dear Miss Venables. Silk stockings from Paris which would have worked a treat with my brother.”
This insane creature sounded as if she were the victim in this whole debacle.
“After your brazen attempt to seduce me earlier,” Hugo began, “I should have known you’d be capable of something like this.” He gestured to the body concealed beneath the white sheet. “Are we permitted to know why you saw fit to steal the life of my friend?”
Miss Harper gave a hapless shrug. “I haven’t the faintest notion what you mean.”
To call this lady unstable was a gross understatement. “So you just happen to be out walking, wielding a pistol on a cold winter’s night?”
“I might ask you why you’re all gathered around a corpse?” the devil woman countered.
A tense silence ensued.
“So, what now?” Hugo asked with a disdainful snort. “You’ve one shot in that pistol, and there are three of us. Perhaps you should have given the matter more thought before charging in here ready to seek vengeance.”
The comment captured the spitfire’s attention. She fixed Hugo with a vicious stare. “I thought the little lesson earlier would have taught you not to underestimate me. I shall shoot you through the heart, Lord Denham. Then no one shall have you.”
Fear grabbed Lara by the throat and squeezed. People willing to commit such atrocities lacked a conscience. “And what will you do with us?” Lara said, knowing the woman must have a wicked plan.
“Miss Venables and I will say we followed you out of the house to find you’d met Lord Denham for a tryst. When he refused to marry you, you shot him. Simple.”
The lady truly was deranged if she thought Miss Venables her ally.
“If Miss Venables refuses to comply,” Miss Harper continued, “I shall inform the coroner that I was mistaken, that my dear companion had left the room on the night of poor Mr Bellham’s accident.”
“It was murder, not a damn accident,” Hugo growled. “You drove a knife into a man’s chest because you knew he had evidence to implicate your brother in a crime. And I shall make sure the whole world knows it’s true.”
The witch cackled. “Not if you’re dead.”
As if matters were not complicated enough, the door swung open and Lord Northcott appeared wrapped in his greatcoat. He stormed into the small room, slammed the door and glared at the harpy and Miss Venables.
“Come to join the party?” An incredulous chuckle left Hugo’s lips.
“Frances?” The viscount motioned to the pistol in his sister’s hand. “What the devil are you about? As if you’ve not caused enough trouble this evening. For the life of me, I’ll never straighten this with Denham.”
The viscount acted like a boy green behind the ears with regard to his sister’s duplicity.
Miss Harper’s lips curled into a smirk. “I suggest you return to your bedchamber. There’s a good boy. I’m tired of being controlled by an imbecile.”
“I’m the imbecile? I’m not the one pointing a pistol at our host’s head.”
“You’re the fool who got us into this predicament.”
“Hand me the pistol, Frances.” The viscount held out a gloved hand, but his sister ignored him. In a panic, he turned to Hugo. “Denham, you can see she’s not herself. If she gives me the weapon, tell her she can leave, and we’ll not say another word about this.”
Lara stood aghast. The scoundrel was a milksop, while his sister was as mad as a March hare.
“Father was right all those years ago.” Miss Harper turned the gun on her brother. Her hand shook, and she ground her teeth. “You’re a wastrel who will see us in the gutter before the year is out. You have no mind for anything but your own pleasure. Our father must be turning in his grave at the mess you’ve made.”
“You have no idea of the pressure that comes with my position.” Lord Northcott was the one gritting his teeth now. “Your only worries are what bonnet goes best with your dress.”
Miss Harper let out an enraged cry, a sound one might hear on the battlefield when the infantry charged over the enemy line. She stamped her foot and yelled, “I killed a man for you. I killed a man to protect our family while you’ve been bedding the hired help. Don’t tell me I have no worries. It would have all worked out perfectly fine had she not arrived.”
Lara winced when the harpy jabbed the weapon in her direction. Miss Harper’s wild eyes, her teeth clamped together so tightly one could hear them grinding, made her a perfect candidate for Bedlam. Insanity was the only explanation.
“What the devil do you mean when you say you killed a man?” The viscount stared with agonised confusion at the body hidden beneath the white sheet. “For the love of God, tell me you didn’t kill Bertie!”
“Of course I killed him, you whimpering fool.” She spat saliva as she hurled abuse. “He’s been conspiring with Miss Venables. They’ve met a few times in London. I knew she was up to something and so followed her to the gate.”
“So that’s the reason you gave her an alibi,” Hugo mused.
Miss Harper ignored the earl’s comment. “I hid amongst the trees and waited until she returned to the house before approaching the cad. I told him I knew what Miss Venables was up to, played the doting sister desperate to help my brother from making a foolish mistake. When he refused to divulge any information, I lost my temper.”
The viscount’s expression grew solemn. His shoulders sagged when he turned his attention to Miss Venables. “After all that occurred between us, you were conducting an affair with Bellham?”
He looked more hurt that a woman didn’t find him the most desirable man in the world than the fact his sister had admitted to murder. Indeed, he seemed oblivious to the fact someone might have learned of his smuggling activities and was bothered only about his bed partner’s deception. Perhaps he’d forgotten that he was late to the party because he’d taken to sowing his wild oats at the Swan.
Miss Venables blurted the whole sorry story about her father’s plight. During her heartfelt speech, Lara wondered if the lady was a little conflicted. Had her body waged war with her conscience? Either way, her need for vengeance had won in the end.
“Oh, my heart bleeds.” Miss Harper’s devilish chuckle rent the air. She aimed the pistol at her brother. “So you see. I couldn’t possibly let Mr Bellham leave here knowing she’d whispered her secrets. Heaven knows what you’d told her. I’ll not have our personal affairs aired around town.”
A grave silence descended.
The viscount dragged his hand down his face and shook his head. He turned to Hugo. “Do you have any suggestions as to how we might deal with this matter? You should know that I will do everything in my power to ensure she doesn’t hang.”
Hugo glanced at the woman who seemed momentarily shocked by her brother’s comment. “You’ll press for Bedlam?”
The viscount inclined his head.
“Bedlam?” Miss Harper flew into a fit of rage. “Judas!” she cried and fired at her brother.
Miss Venables screamed.
The viscount dropped to his knees as a puff of smoke and the smell of sulphur filled the air. The lead ball hit the doorframe, splintering the wood. But that wasn’t enough to deter the termagant or make her see the error of her ways. No. With her arms held high and her fingers shaped like claws she pounced on her brother, ready to scratch his eyes from his sockets.
Hugo came to the viscount’s rescue, and with the help of some twine Lara found in a cupboard, he secured Miss Harper’s hands behind her back.
The woman kicked and screamed and mumbled blasphemous words when they secured her to an old wooden chair with her own stockings.
Lord Northcott stood back and considered the lady snarling and spitting and cursing him to the devil. “If you can spare a groom to give me direction, I’ll ride to the magistrate at once, and we’ll take the matter from there. No doubt Bellham’s family will have something to say, but I doubt anyone will want to draw undue attention.”
“Of course.” Hugo inclined his head. “I shall await news. Come and see me in my study upon your return. In the meantime, I shall lock this door and have a man stand guard until Sir Ellis or Mr Marshall arrive.”
Lara ignored the vile tirade that burst from Miss Harper’s lips.
The viscount made to leave, but Hugo called out to him. “Once this matter is concluded, I will hear of your interest in the Strawbridge. Particularly the journeys made from Bordeaux.”
Lord Northcott tried to hide his look of surprise and merely said “As you wish” before leaving the cottage.
Miss Venables asked to return to her room. The red rims around her eyes and her solemn expression spoke of a world-weary tiredness, not merely a lack of sleep. She stood with her shoulders slumped, spoke in a distant, monotone voice when she agreed to meet with Hugo in the morning.
As soon as Lara and Hugo stepped outside the bothy, he drew her into a comforting embrace.
“I saw my whole life come crashing to an end when that devil waved her damn pistol at you.” He kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. “I cannot lose you now. Not after you’ve braved the worst snowstorm in centuries to find your way to me.”
Lara smiled. Despite the harsh conditions, love for this man flamed brightly inside to keep her warm. “I would have fought through worse, crossed icy rivers, climbed treacherous mountains, had I known you were waiting.”
“I’ve been waiting for as long as I can remember. I didn’t realise that was the case until you came sweeping through my front door, covered in snow.”
Heavens. She would never forget the look of horror on Lady Denham’s face when she found Lara dripping water onto the polished floor. “Your mother seemed most perturbed to see me standing in a puddle on the parquet.”
“More perturbed when you mentioned your grandfather was Montague Forsyth.”
“It could all have gone so terribly wrong.” The Denhams could have thrown them both out upon discovering their scheme. “The fact our kin have embraced each other again is a testament to the depth of their love.”
“Knowing how I feel about you now, I cannot imagine how they’ve coped these last forty years. Does the pain of separation become easier with time?”
People like Lady Denham locked their love away and buried the box. Still, they could not shake the weight of the burden and so made everyone as miserable as they were. People like Montague eased the pain by sharing their love, bestowing the precious gift on friends and relatives, continually trying to recapture those feelings of euphoria.
“Well, having witnessed them roving about like lovers in the prime of their youth, I would say they’re determined to make up for lost time.”
Hugo captured her chin and pressed a searing kiss to her lips. “I don’t want us to waste a single second. It’s strange. I’ve spent the last three years avoiding marriage as if it were the plague. Now, I cannot wait to marry you, Miss Lara Bennett.” He kissed her again in the licentious way that tightened the muscles in her core. “I cannot wait to share my life with you. Cannot wait to share my bed.”
Lara slid her arms around his waist. “Tell me that tomorrow will be a rather uneventful day. Tell me the worst of our troubles are over.”
“You made a winter wish. From now on, every night will be as magical as this one.”
Lara chuckled. “Magical? We were almost shot in the bothy by a madwoman.”
He arched a brow. “I was referring to our memorable activities in the hideaway.”
“Oh, yes, I pray every night is as satisfying as that.”
Passion burned in his bright blue eyes as the snow fell all around them. “Not just every night. Some mornings and afternoons, too.”
Lara captured a snowflake from his lashes and said, “It’s your turn to make a winter wish.”
He laughed and closed his eyes. “While I wish we were back in the hideaway, wish that Montague and my mother find the happiness they deserve, there is one pressing matter that requires urgent attention.”
“And what is that, my love?”
“I wish it would damn well rain.”
Chapter Sixteen
As a man who’d found a love to last a lifetime, how could he not believe in dreams? Now, standing at the window of his study and witnessing the deluge of rain turning mounds of snow into slushy puddles, Hugo believed in the power of wishes, too.
But while he could think of nothing other than capturing his betrothed in her bedchamber and ravishing her senseless, there were still matters of treason to contend with.
Hugo turned to face Lord Northcott, seated in a chair on the opposite side of the mahogany desk. The viscount hadn’t slept a wink, and a sad look of helplessness marred his features.
“Did Sir Ellis come to any conclusions as to what to do with your sister?” While the thought of a woman hanging from the scaffold turned Hugo’s stomach, he had to remember that Miss Harper had taken the life of his friend. “I intend to ride to London at the earliest opportunity and inform Lord Bellham of the tragic news.” Montague had agreed to accompany him. “Perhaps you should meet with the family, offer your condolences and beg for clemency.”
Northcott dragged his hand through his mop of dark hair. “Sir Ellis suggested keeping Frances under guard at his house until she’s committed for trial.” Mr Marshall had returned with the viscount and two jurors during the early hours and had taken the crazed women to Pewsey. “But Frances attacked the magistrate like a wild banshee, and we’ve had no choice but to send her to Marlborough Town Gaol.”
