He eyed the chest longingly. Hundreds of pounds worth of notes and the Shelldrake diamond lay just inches away. He almost salivated at the prospect of possessing them, but that was impossible, and unnecessary. He would doubtless own it all anyway, once Drake’s will was probated, and he wasted no time agonizing over it.
He removed Drakes cape, and donned it himself. Tipping the desk chair on its side at the edge of the hearthstone, he hauled Drake’s inert frame into it in such a way that it would appear he’d struck his head on the andiron, then twisted his foot inside the edge of the desk to make it look as though he had caught it there causing his fall.
There was a decanter of brandy on the desk with two glasses on a silver salver and he removed the crystal stopper, forced some into Drake’s mouth, then loosened his shirtfront, and doused him with more. Filling one of the glasses, he laid it gently on its side, letting the brandy bleed across the ledger on the blotter in a wide, ragged circle, just as it would have if Drake had clumsily knocked it over when he fell then sprinkled some on the rug, chair, and lounge. Trying the desk drawers, he only found one unlocked. Two more ledgers were tucked inside, and he splashed them as well then laid the decanter beside Drake on the carpet.
Relighting the branch of candles he’d extinguished when he set the scene earlier, he touched the flames first to the desk, then to the lounge and carpet, before dropping it on the floor as though it had fallen there naturally when Drake tipped the chair over. He considered striking him another blow, just to be certain, but decided against it. As it was his head was bleeding badly. It wouldn’t do to cause more damage than he would have done falling. It needed to look like an accident after all. Besides, it wasn’t necessary. The whole house was asleep by now, and he hadn’t made a sound to rouse anyone.
Flames leapt up everywhere, tall, hungry columns of fire fed by the alcohol, eating their way toward Drake’s inert body on the hearthstone. Everything had gone according to plan. Exactly. And, snatching up the bloodied rock he’d struck him with, he fled through the open terrace doors and disappeared like a wraith in the darkness.
Sixteen
Melly waited self-consciously for the mail coach to arrive at the coaching station. She was definitely not dressed for travel in her borrowed housemaid’s costume, without even a bonnet, shawl, or reticule to recommend her to gentility. The frock was soiled, and wrinkled as well from sleeping cramped for two nights in Tisa’s wagon in the penetrating dampness, and her hair was only finger-combed, but her face was clean, and her deportment flawless.
The morning fog had not yet lifted. It drifted aimlessly in and out, ankle deep, among the passengers waiting on the platform, mercifully hiding her Morocco leather slippers that had not fared well on her trek from Drake’s Lair. They were badly scuffed, and one was torn at the instep. She tried to strike her most indifferent pose whenever one of her fellow travelers eyed her skeptically, though underneath it all she was mortified. But there was nothing for it. She was on her way to remedy the situation now that, thank the stars, Dr. Hale had agreed to help her, and she squared her shoulders, tossed her curls, and fixed her gaze on the highway steeped in mist for some sign of the coach.
She promised herself not to think about the perplexing Earl of Shelldrake, but that was impossible while the taste of him still lingered on her tongue, while her body still responded to his strong arms wrapped around it, to the roughness of his budding beard against her breast, and his erection forced against her through the gossamer peach silk gown—Eva’s gown—Eva’s color, so right for the beautiful Lady Eva, Countess Shelldrake, so wrong for her. The hallucination was so real, it was as though he were holding her still, and when a hand touched her shoulder, she spun around with such a violent lurch she nearly knocked its owner off the platform.
It was Ellery.
“Odds fish, my lady,” he gushed, steadying her. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. Didn’t you hear me calling?”
“Mr. Ellery!” she exclaimed, deftly removing herself from his grasp. “Whatever are you doing here?”
“I walked over to inquire the very same of you,” he said, taking her measure openly. “Going on holiday with your newfound wealth?”
“Hardly,” she snapped, resisting the urge to tell him to mind his own affairs. “I am going to replace the clothes that I lost in the fire,” she said instead, “to make an end to such rude looks as you have just given me, sir, not that I put any stock in such evaluations. I’ve grown quite accustomed to them actually.”
“You wound me,” he replied tongue-in-cheek through a mock frown, “and you misread my look, it is strictly one of admiration. Dear lady, you would rival Venus in a grain sack.”
“Yes, well, thank the stars it shan’t quite come to that,” she snapped.
“So,” he said buoyantly, rubbing his gloved hands together. “Where are you headed in order to squander Drake’s blunt?”
“I never squander anything,” she sallied. “And it isn’t his lordship’s blunt any longer. It’s mine. But if you must know, I’m going up to Truro for the day to do my shopping.”
“As coincidence would have it, so am I—” he returned, “—going to Truro, that is, on business. We shall be traveling companions. Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”
She didn’t answer. Craning her neck toward the highway, she prayed for the mail coach to materialize. Where was the deuced thing? They were notoriously prompt. She thanked the stars she’d opted for the mail over going post, or by a slower stagecoach, that stopped umpteen times an hour to let off and take on passengers. She cast more prayers of gratitude toward the heavens that the sleepy little village was on the mail route albeit only once a week. The rest of the time mail came in from Truro on the stage at random. The last person she wanted to be confined in a coach with alone for any length of time was James Ellery, even if it was only for a relatively short distance.
The mail coaches seated four inside and usually up to eight outside up top, depending upon how much of the mail overflowed the boots. It would be too much to hope for that the steward would number among them, but at least there would be two others traveling inside as well, and there was always the chance that more would be picked up along the way, forcing him to relinquish his seat if they were female.
“Since we both seem to be fated for the same destination, it would be my pleasure to accompany you on your little shopping spree,” Ellery said silkily, breaking the awkward silence. “Are you familiar with Truro? It’s quite built up these days, nothing at all like our sleepy little St. Kevern.”
“Not really, but I assure you I am perfectly capable of shopping on my own.”
“I have no doubt,” he responded, “but do you really think it wise, my dear? You’ve lived too long in the wild if you imagine that a young lady alone wouldn’t tarnish her reputation without, at the very least, the company of another lady, or more acceptably, a gentleman escort in town. Traipsing about on her own, she would surely be labeled a tart.”
“I should think a lady would more likely be in danger of being labeled that, were she to have a gentleman accompany her while she purchased her unmentionables, sir, unless, of course, he was a rake,” she sallied sweetly.
“Touché, my dear,” he responded, with a dramatic bow from the waist, “but I think that I shall tag along in any case, since we both know what we are… and what we aren’t. My conscience wouldn’t have it any other way. They’re a rough lot down by the river, and you are obviously carrying a good deal of blunt. I would never forgive myself if harm befell you while I was right in town and could have prevented it. As a matter-of-fact, it might be best that you give it to me for safekeeping. I assure you, it will be quite safe. I see you have no reticule. Wherever have you hidden it, you clever creature?”
“No thank you,” she said tersely, “and where I keep my money while traveling is none of your business, sir.”
“I only meant to be of service, my dear,” he said. “I stand justly rebuked, and I humbly beg your pardon. But if rumors have spread from Drake’s Lair already, I do hope you will give me the chance to defend myself.”
What was this now?
No, she wouldn’t bite. Instead, she stood on tiptoe, her sharp eyes straining the stubborn mist for the uncommonly tardy coach. She glanced around the platform. There was only one other female passenger waiting, aside from herself. She was going to have to suffer his company all the way to Truro. She craned her neck toward the highway again.
Where is the deuced thing?
Why doesn’t it come,
so I can have all this unpleasant banter behind me?
The thought had scarcely crossed her mind, when the lumbering black and chocolate conveyance, with the familiar royal arms emblazoned on the doors, came tooling around the bend, its brilliant scarlet wheels and undercarriage breaking through the fog. Once the passengers had disembarked, the steward helped her inside and took his seat opposite, while an older woman and gentleman climbed in beside them.
“We should be off in no time,” Ellery said, “and it shan’t be a dreadfully long trip. They won’t be changing horses again ‘till Truro.”
“Thank you,” she said curtly, “but I don’t need a tour guide. I’ve traveled the mail before.”
“Have you then? And here I thought you were quite the provincial lass.”
“Hardly. I am Manchester born and bred, sir, and groomed for society in London. I believe I can handle Truro.”
“I am impressed. But I do insist that you permit me to safeguard your reputation. You might even enjoy my company, especially since I have no qualms about sharing Drake’s Lair secrets.”
“Why should such secrets interest me, Mr. Ellery?”
“They interested you well enough while you were residing in that grand medieval mausoleum under the dragon’s spell,” he said through a shrug.
“And, what makes you so eager to tell its tales?”
“I am no longer obliged to keep confidences now that I find myself in the same situation as yourself.”
“As myself?”
“Exiled.”
“You’ve left Drake’s Lair?”
“Bag and baggage.”
This was news, and enough of a tease to pique her interest in his company, but only inasmuch as she could seize the opportunity to direct the topic of conversation away from herself.
“When did that occur?” she queried.
“Quite recently, as it happens,” he returned. “Yesterday afternoon, actually. Drake and I agreed to disagree, as it were. He hasn’t been himself since he returned from Spain. He always was an ungrateful wretch, but never like this. He actually accused me of tampering with the accounts—
me
, his closest friend of nigh on two decades, after I scrimped and saved, like a cheeseparing miser for the past five years trying to keep his estates in order, his crofts producing, and his vineyards turning a profit single-handed, while he diddled about on the Peninsula. He’s on the road to Bedlam, if you ask me—has been since the tragedy five years ago. I knew then it was only a matter of time before he turned up addled in the beanbox. It was time that we part company for a while. One can’t reason with a madman.”
“What happened five years ago?” she queried, half-hoping he wouldn’t say. Her heart had begun to pound wildly at the prospect of finally discovering the secret Rosen had warned of, that the earl refused to share except in cryptic riddles, the mysterious secret that was supposed to hold danger for her. She could scarcely contain the battery of emotions coursing through her at the thought of discovering it at last.
“Not here,” he said in a low voice, glancing toward the elder pair alongside them who hadn’t missed a word. “I know a delightful little café on Boscawen Street. We’ll stop there for nuncheon, and I’ll tell you… privately.”
The nosy woman seated beside her bristled. Her companion began to yawn and doze, evidently bored, now that no further
on-dits
were forthcoming, and Melly focused her attention on the gray landscape zipping past the coach window as it sped along parting the stubborn fog.
Devilish clever fellow, he was, holding her hostage with that juicy morsel. Now he had extended the coach ride to include a nuncheon invitation. There was nothing for it but to accept if she wanted to solve the mystery. But, did she? She wasn’t even sure of that herself anymore.
She kept remembering the door handles rattling in her apartments at Drake’s Lair, and the heavy draperies shuddering, displaced by a fleeing intruder. Was he the one, or was it the earl prowling about her rooms both times? It could have been either. But what harm to sit in a public place and share a meal… as long as wine wasn’t served with it?
“You left the Lair in rather a hurry yourself,” he probed. “Why was that, if I may ask? Surely you had more benefits there than among the Tinkers?”
“My stay was never meant to be a lengthy one,” she responded cautiously. “Once the sale was finalized, there was no need that I remain.”
“But to go to the
Tinkers
.”
“The Tinkers are my friends, Mr. Ellery. I will not stand for disparaging remarks made against them,” she said unequivocally. “I’ll thank you kindly to remember that.”
“I meant no offense, my dear,” he hastened to amend, “It simply seems foolhardy to trade an eiderdown bed for tick stuffed with straw, and silk frocks for black twill when one doesn’t have to… unless, of course, the Jack o’ napes ejected you?”
“Hardly. I was simply ready to get on with my life, now that I have the means. I was never happy with the countess’s hand-me-downs; they did not suit my tastes.”
“Hence this little shopping spree?”
“Precisely,” she replied. Trust the clever man to turn the conversation smoothly back in her direction. Well, two could play at that game. If she were going to have to put up with his company, she would be the one to control the topic of discussion. “I don’t mean to be rude, Mr. Ellery,” she said, stifling a mock yawn, “but I really must close my eyes for a bit; the motion of the coach, you see. It always makes me sleepy.”
“Of course, my dear, go right ahead. We’ve quite a day before us… quite a day, indeed.”