The Flame and the Flower (54 page)

"I suspect he's gonna be up here soon. He was eating some time ago and said he wanted to see you." The wide grin came again as she looked at the two in bed. "That Master Beau gonna be wanting to come in here pretty soon, too. I ain't never known him to sleep this late before either. You sure got him trained, Miss Heather."

"He's just better mannered than some people I know," Brandon gruffly retorted, drawing a chuckle from the old woman.

She shuffled to the door and opening it, turned to give Brandon a last wicked gaze before she left. "Yassah, it sure is a mighty fine day."

Before she could leave, Jeff's voice sounded from the other room. "Where is he, the lazy dolt? Leaves the party early, forgets his guests and lies abed until midday."

His head poked through the doorway, and with a gasp Heather quickly slid down in bed, snatching the sheet up close under her chin. There was a moment's silence as his gaze took in the scene.

"Well, you're not exactly decent, but I'll come in anyway," he grinned.

He slipped past Hatti as the old woman left and entered the room, coming to stand at the foot of the bed where he regarded the two within. His lips twisted into a one-sided grin as his gaze rested mostly on his brother while that hearty squirmed under the thoughtful eye. Then he strolled to the window, eyeing Heather's blue gown as he passed the chair. Resting one hand upon the sill and with the other drawing his jacket aside, he stared musingly out upon the sunlit grounds.

"Yes, sir," he murmured, deep in thought. "It's going to be a right beautiful day."

With that he threw back his head and laughed heartily at some private joke. Brandon groaned and rolled his eyes upward, gritting his teeth.

"Well, it's a damned sorry day when a man's own bedroom gets as public as a sale house on auction day. I'm going to have Ethan see about locks for these doors."

Jeff turned and with an amused smile, bowed. "Your pardon, sir. Had I been aware of your change of venue, I would have been more discreet. However, I would remind you, dear brother, that we have guests about and they grow worried about your absence. Shall I tell them you are ill?" At Brandon's answering growl he laughed and continued. "Very well, I'll simply tell them you're lazy and will be down shortly."

He turned as if to go but faced them again. "I must remember to congratulate George. He'll be happy to know he's not a complete failure as a matchmaker."

He watched them in amused silence until the full impact of his words were brought home and they looked up almost in unison to stare at him in stunned surprise.

"It's quite all right. I've known the details for some time now, but don't blame George too much. He was well into his cups and thought himself completely alone." With another deep laugh he went to the door and there eyed Heather's gown again and then grinned at Brandon. "You had a hell of a lot more willpower than I would have had, sweet brother."

He winked at Heather and chuckling to himself, turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Brandon muttered something disagreeable about not being able to have any secrets or privacy and swung his long legs over the edge of the bed and sat up. Heather laughed gaily and springing up, embraced him fiercely from behind.

"Oh, it is a beautiful day, isn't it, Brandon?"

He smiled as he closed his eyes and rubbed his back against her bare breasts, delighting in the feel of them against him.

"Indeed it is, sweet," he breathed. "Indeed it is."

He got up suddenly and laughing, swung her off the bed and gave her a lustful pat on the naked buttocks.

"If you don't see about our son pretty soon, madam, he'll have to wait just that much longer for his breakfast."

She giggled and came into his arms and stood up on her toes to kiss his lips, looping her arms about his neck.

"Don't go away. I plan to keep you within my sight most of the day."

He gave her a deep kiss, holding her tightly to him, and then sighed against her ear.

"You'll have trouble getting rid of me, m'lady."

Beau, seeming to sense his parent's good spirits, was in the mood to play after his stomach had been adequately filled. He kicked his legs happily in his bath, splashing his mother, and chuckled merrily when his father spoke to him of his bad manners. When Heather carried him into the drawing room, he was more than content with the attention he received there from the guests who cooed and fussed over him.

Mrs. Clark regarded the gleam in his father's eyes and sat back, bracing her hand on her cane, and nodded slowly. "Well, Brandon, you look a great deal better tempered today than you did last night. Your night's rest must indeed have done wonders for your disposition."

Jeff smothered a chuckle and received a warning glance from Brandon who turned and spoke to the woman in good humor.

"Thank you, Abegail. It did. I do feel considerably better this morning."

He met Heather's smiling eyes over his son's head and his own were warm and bright.

Daylight had almost flown when the last of the guests climbed into their carriages. A light repast had been served and hearty farewells made around. Most of the men had a last sample of Jeff's whiskey warming their bellies, the women a last drink of cool water or a sip of chilled wine to shorten their trip some small whit.

When the house was once more left to the Birminghams, they gathered in the drawing room to pass the evening leisurely. Heather sat with Beau on a quilt spread upon the rug where he waved his arms excitedly and cooed and with bright eyes watched the dust motes that swam in a nearby shaft of sunlight. The babe drew chuckles from the men who sat nearby, Brandon on the settee within hands' reach of his wife, and Jeff stretched out across from them in a comfortable chair, each sampling an evening libation of his choice.

A rattle of a carriage and a thunder of hooves broke the quiet moment, and Louisa's landau careened to a halt before the stoop. The woman stepped down with an eagerness and lightness of foot that belied the solemnity of her face. She bounced up the steps and flounced past Joseph to force her presence upon the small family without preamble. Before she spoke a word, she took the glass from Brandon's hand and nearly drained it, abusing the fine brandy, then wrinkling her nose as if in distaste. He set the glass on the table when she handed it back, and Jeff smiled slightly at the subtle insult that went completely by her.

"Well, Brandon," she blurted out. "Once more you've given the gossips of Charleston something to talk about."

He raised an eyebrow in query at her statement and she explained breathlessly.

"Sybil was found murdered this morning." She half smiled at Heather's gasp of surprise. "And you were seen with her yesterday on Meeting Street. In fact, you were apparently the last person to speak with her."

Something cold and dreadful began to grow deep inside Heather. She reached a hand to Brandon's thigh and his slid over hers and gripped it reassuringly. A dead silence filled the room and everyone seemed to hold their breath. Louisa stiffened and almost frowned as she gazed at the clasped hands and then she continued on unchecked.

"They found her in the woods outside the city with her neck broken. She was quite brutally abused. Poor girl, no one even missed her at the ball last night, did they? Her clothes were torn from her, and the surgeon says she was raped." She raised a meaningful eyebrow to Heather then smiled at Brandon. "Of course I know you'd never treat a woman so, darling, but the sheriff has some doubts. In fact, he should be here soon. It seemed that Mrs. Scott had some definite ideas as to whom the beast might be."

Jeff laughed coldly in the silence. "Maranda Scott's tongue usually outdoes her brain in its activity."

Louisa almost sneered as she smiled at him. "There are several other strange occurrences that have come to light which I'm sure the sheriff will ask about. But of course," she simpered and glared at Heather, "Brandon can explain them all." She turned to him and asked, "Just where
did
you disappear to last night, darling?"

Heather could stand no more and came fiercely to her husband's defense. "He was with me all night, Louisa, and all of today and that I can vouch for."

"Oh!" Louisa's eyes widened and then narrowed as she stared down at Beau. "And I suppose you'll be having another brat to prove it. But then..." She turned to Brandon. "I suppose keeping her pregnant is the best way of being sure, isn't it, darling?"

Heather gasped at the snide insult and both Jeff and Brandon shot up from their seats. Brandon's eyes grew dark and his cheek twitched angrily. He stepped forward with his hands half raised as if to throttle her, and Louisa's eyes showed fear. Then he checked himself and she smiled tritely.

"Tsk! Tsk! You must watch that violent temper of yours, darling. What will the sheriff say?"

She half turned with a swirl of her skirts. "I really must be going anyway. He won't appreciate my giving you a warning." As she strode out, she sweetly laughed over her shoulder. "I'll go home the back way so he won't know I was here. Ta ta, darling."

A moment later her carriage swept around the house and down the back lane. Heather held her whimpering son in her arms, and the three adults gazed at each other in wonder and consternation.

"Anybody's mad to believe you had anything to do with Sybil's death, Bran," Jeff raged suddenly, slamming his glass down on a table. He muttered an oath and began to pace the room. "The silly girl—she had every lascivious reprobate in town knocking at her door. It could have been any one of them. But what good reason could anybody give for blaming you? My God, you hardly looked at her. And I'm damned certain if you would have, she'd have raped you."

Heather gazed up at her husband worriedly and made an effort to quiet Beau who rooted at her breast and when he could not find what he sought through her gown, fussed impatiently, now and then letting out angry squalls.

It was Brandon who spoke calmly.

"Mrs. Scott is naturally upset, and it's Townsend's job as sheriff to investigate every possibility, even an hysterical woman's rantings. I did help Sybil to her buggy with her bundles yesterday, and I'm sure more than a few people saw us together. But I shouldn't think that proves me her murderer. Townsend is not shallow witted. He'll listen to reason."

Heather made to rise to attend her son, and Brandon bent to help her to her feet. As he drew her up his eyes held hers and if there were any doubts in Heather's mind, they fled swiftly. It was not possible that he could look at her with so much gentleness and love and be guilty of such a horrible act. Her eyes mirrored that tender emotion, and she lifted her face to his that their lips could meet in a soft, unhurried kiss.

"I won't be long," she breathed when they drew apart, then she turned to hurry from the room and up the stairs, holding her son close.

When Heather came downstairs after nursing Beau and putting him to bed, she heard a man speaking whose voice was unfamiliar to her. Her husband's angry reply made her pause in her step.

"Dammit, Townsend, that's a fool question to ask. No, I've never made love to her. I found her totally unattractive and undesirable, and it would have been physically impossible for me to get aroused with her."

"Mrs. Scott says differently, Bran. She states that you carried on a secret affair with Sybil for years—that when she started seeing other gentlemen after your marriage you became jealous and enraged and in a fit of temper forced yourself upon her and then killed her."

"Bald-faced lies!" Brandon declared angrily. "Maranda is undoubtedly thinking she will get some sort of compensation for her wagging tongue. For years she sought to force her daughter upon me, but I swear, Townsend, upon my mother's grave, I never touched that girl."

"I hear you gave a fancy ball here last night," the sheriff drawled. "And I also hear from some of your guests that you were in a foul mood."

"Our most helpful Louie, no doubt," Jeff muttered contemptuously.

"I assure you, Townsend," Brandon ground out, "my actions last night had nothing to do with Sybil. I didn't even realize she hadn't come until a few minutes ago when Louisa gave us the news."

"Then what was the reason for your behavior?"

Jeff chuckled. "He was trying to keep all the men from ogling his wife."

"Then you are possessed of jealous fits?" the sheriff quested.

"As far as my wife goes, yes," Brandon admitted.

"Why only her? You could have felt the same about Sybil if you possessed that temperament."

Now Brandon laughed. "Undoubtedly, Townsend, you've never seen my wife or you'd see the truth of the matter. Besides Mrs. Birmingham, Sybil was put to shame."

Townsend cleared his throat and spoke as if reluctant to do so. "There's been a rumor among your friends that you don't sleep with your wife, Bran. Is that true?"

Her blood stirring, Heather swept into the drawing room to find the three men standing and faced the stranger who stared at her for a moment in surprise then blushed profusely and hung his head. Townsend was as tall as the Birmingham men but a great deal heavier. Whereas Brandon's weight was double hers, this man's was triple, and it seemed strange to see so large a man squirm in embarrassed silence. She went to her husband and sliding an arm about his waist, spoke in measured tone.