Checkmate, My Lord

chapter Twelve


August 13

For the hundredth time, Sebastian glanced at Catherine’s profile, wondering what machinations cluttered her brilliant mind while she put the finishing touches on The Plan. On their way back from meeting with the craftsmen—a journey completed in relative silence—they had returned to Bellamere so she could assign a workman to each of the repairs and make adjustments to her schedule.

Something about her eagerness to be of service gnawed at him, even knowing he was the one who had requested her assistance. Why was she here? What possible benefit could she derive from this partnership? She had to be aware of his reputation for ruthlessness—it preceded him everywhere he went. So what would lure her to his home? To spend days in his company? Hours coordinating his repairs?

Why would she risk the good opinion of Showbury’s residents by sharing his bed?

An image of Catherine spread out on his breakfast room table, her head tossed back with one leg locked around his waist, materialized with a clarity that astounded him. In that moment, she had been an angel and a temptress. And tight. So tight that he had nearly lost the few wits he had left.

My lord?”

Sebastian shut his mind to the seductive image and focused his fevered eyes on Catherine. She sat at his mother’s writing desk, brought into his study by the servants a quarter hour ago, looking comfortable and intent. His gaze roamed over her oval-shaped face, pert nose, blond eyebrows, and her lightly fringed lashes that blended with the backdrop of her pale skin.

What was it about her that compelled him to want to be with her, when he knew they must part ways in a few short days? Having her nearby brought an unusual contentment to his life, something he did not fully comprehend and, at that particular moment, chose not to analyze.

Yes,” he said finally. The word emerged harsh, uneven.

Her brown eyes searched his features without a hint of the yearning swirling in their depths that he’d witnessed this morning. “Did you make promises to anyone besides Mr. Hayton?”

Not that I recall.” He dropped his gaze to his desk and shuffled papers around. “Why?”

She bent over The Plan again. “Just making sure I’m prioritizing everything correctly.”

When might the men you hired begin the repairs?”

Her quill pen scratched across the paper. “We still need to speak with Mr. McCarthy. He’s a competent carpenter in need of work.”

I’ve met him.”

The scratching stopped. “You have?”

Yes, Saturday afternoon, when I attempted to catalog all the repairs myself.”

Is that why we circumvented the McCarthy residence?”

He nodded. “You should add a gate repair to your list.”

She looked down at her chart, her lips thinned in disapproval. “You might have mentioned that a tad earlier.”

But I only just now recalled the fact.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Any others you’re only now recollecting?”

She was adorable when annoyed. “Not that I recall.”

Pulling a clean piece of paper in front of her, she dipped her pen into the inkwell with a little more force than necessary. “Tomorrow, I will present an individual task list to each of the craftsmen. In the meantime, please do not feel as though you need to entertain me. I’m sure you have more pressing matters to attend.”

She had provided him with a perfect opportunity to escape the erotic images he failed to stop. But he remained rooted in his chair, yearning for her in torturous silence.

Did she not think about their time together in the breakfast room? Did she not grow wet with wanting, with imagining them joined again?

Paper crackled, and he looked down to find the report he’d been trying to read in ruins. He had hoped making love to her would soothe the hunger burning in his loins. But one loving wasn’t enough. His body felt more starved than ever, depleted of an essential element he could not long go without.

Standing, he strode toward her, keeping a tight rein on the conflicting emotions roiling inside him. He didn’t want to want her. A young widow with a small child would come to expect more of him than he could give. Keeping his agents alive and England free from invasion was all he could manage. Getting involved with Catherine could put them all in danger.

So why wasn’t his body listening to the arguments of his mind?

Hearing his approach, she turned to look at him, and her eyes grew wide. Was her reaction due to his determined advancement, or had his mask slipped? Sebastian feared the latter, which did nothing to improve his disposition.

She rose and shimmied around her chair, as if that meager piece of furniture would provide adequate protection. He wanted to witness one glimmer of remembrance in those beautiful eyes, one sign she had not forgotten their passionate interlude this morning.

M-my lord,” she said in a shaky voice. “Did I say something to upset you?”

Hardly, Mrs. Ashcroft,” he said. “You’ve barely said anything at all.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand. We discussed Mr. McCarthy at length.”

Sebastian pressed beyond the warning bells and physical blockades. “Ah, but I’m not talking about the Irishman. I refer to this morning.” He stopped a few feet in front of her, the chair between them. “You do remember this morning, don’t you?”

Trepidation flashed across her face. “Of course.”

Do you not wish to discuss what happened?”

No.” She shook her head. “Not really.”

He frowned. “Why not?”

To what end, my lord?” she asked. “We indulged the demands of our bodies, a circumstance I hope we can repeat before you return to London. But to talk about what happened gives the event more significance than it truly carries.” She raised her chin. “Don’t you think?”

He could do little more than stare at her. Words, logic, arguments—they all failed him. Because she was right. He had delivered the same reminder countless times to mistresses who had placed too much meaning on their sexual encounters.

Being on the receiving end of such a reminder escalated his frustration, causing him to lash out. “Indeed, Mrs. Ashcroft.” He pushed the chair beneath the desk. “Perhaps I did not make my intentions clear enough.”

She clasped her empty hands in front of her. “Oh?”

He stepped closer. “Since you are receptive to furthering our morning activities, I propose an affaire.”

Affaire?” After a moment, the confusion vanished and her features cleared of all expression. “Kind of you, my lord. But I have no need of your money.”

The muscles in his neck grew taut and a vein in his temple pounded. “I’m not suggesting that you become my mistress, but rather my lover.”

She thought about that for a second. “I see.”

Did she? To be sure, he pressed his point home. “A pleasurable interlude with a definite beginning and end, an association without expectation. The only exchange of payment would be the slaking of our mutual desire.”

A satisfactory flush blanketed her throat and covered her cheeks. She might be well versed in negotiating domestic affairs, but Sebastian was a master at more intimate arrangements.

What of my reputation, my lord?” she asked. “Showbury is small and gossip travels quickly. What will become of my daughter and me when you leave?”

There are a few options,” he said. “We do what we can to quell the rumors, or, if you prefer, we can find you and Sophie a nice place away from Showbury. Somewhere you can start fresh, free from unpleasant memories.”

You have given this some thought.”

More than you will ever know. “Like you, I prefer to have a plan.”

What if I don’t wish to leave our home? What then, my lord?”

Then I find a way to persuade you, Mrs. Ashcroft.”

She took a small step back. “I do not think this is the right time—”

When would?” he asked more sharply than he intended. “After we find Ashcroft’s killer? When you’re out of mourning? Once Sophie is older?”

I don’t know,” she admitted. “But I don’t want my selfish act to hurt Sophie. She deserves better.”

I will protect your daughter from any ill effects of our affaire,” he said. “You have my word. I’m offering you a few days of pleasure, something I believe we both need. Trust me to see to Sophie’s welfare.”

She turned toward the window and stared at something in the distance. Sebastian’s hands balled at his side, waiting for her answer. His pulse grew thick in his ears and sweat ran between his shoulder blades.

Well then,” she said quietly, settling her gaze on his. “The business of when the affaire is to begin has already been decided, so the only question remaining is when will it end?”

Never. The answer shot through his head with blinding speed, surprising him with its savagery. Ever since he’d witnessed the secretive smile she’d sent Danforth that morning, he’d been hounded by an animalistic need to possess her, along with an overpowering desire to thrash Danforth.

The viscount’s talent for charming vital information from the mistresses and wives of powerful men had been quite useful over the years. But the thought of Danforth employing those skills on Catherine had stirred a primitive need in Sebastian to rip the young rogue’s head off.

I plan on returning to London by the middle of the following week,” he said. “Does that suit for an end date?”

An odd mixture of relief and exasperation crossed her face. Sebastian found himself wondering about the reasons for both.

Yes, my lord,” she said. “Quite definitive.”

Unable to resist the temptation of their close proximity, he placed his fingers on her cheek and smoothed his thumb over her bottom lip. “Now that we have the business side of our arrangement decided, I propose a sampling of the pleasurable side.”

She nodded, sucking in her bottom lip. When it reappeared moist and red from her ministrations, Sebastian’s control snapped. He covered her mouth, drawing her lower lip between his teeth to savor its texture, toy with its softness. Tease and test its plumpness.

Desire streamed through his veins, sleek and hot. He wanted her again. A sampling was not enough. “Never enough.”

Pardon?” she asked.

Sebastian stilled.

What’s not enough?”

Unable to free himself of the haze of hunger numbing his mind, his unblinking gaze remained fixed on her swollen mouth. Had he verbalized his thoughts? Had he been so far gone in the sensation of her kiss as to reveal his hidden desires?

My lord?”

Sebastian swallowed back an unusual stab of agitation and retreated a step. The new position gave him a better vantage point to view her. Somewhere along the way, her quintessentially English features had become so stunning that they haunted his dreams and plagued his waking hours. Even more so with the evidence of his possession glistening on her lips.

To remove the sting of his withdrawal, he lifted her hand and kissed the delicate blue veins running along the inside of her wrist. “Forgive the intrusion. I know you are most eager to get the repairs under way, which cannot happen until the men have their task list.” He released her and gripped his hands behind his back. “Are you free for dinner?”

She checked the timepiece hanging around her neck. “I’m afraid not. Mr. Foster will be here any moment.”

Every muscle in Sebastian’s body locked in place. “The vicar is coming here?”

Yes,” she said. “I hope you don’t mind. We are to check on Mrs. Taylor before dinner. Knowing we would have a long day, I suggested that he collect me from here.”

So that’s why you walked over today.”

Yes.”

Always planning, aren’t you, Mrs. Ashcroft?” When she said nothing, he asked, “Why must you accompany the vicar to check on Mrs. Taylor?”

She cast him a perplexed look. “Because he asked me to and we have things to discuss.”

Things to discuss. He did not care for the sound of that, especially after the vicar’s comments about marriage. “Did you tell him that we have work to do?”

I don’t understand, my lord,” she said. “We have done all that we can do here today.”

Sebastian’s jaw hardened. He moved to the window, needing a moment to grapple with the sensations pounding through his veins. Where had this need to throttle every man who came within an arm’s length of her come from?

He did not want her spending time with the good vicar when she could be having dinner with him. Did she not feel the same yearning that nearly overwhelmed him every second they were in the same room?

He had to regain control of his body. She was nothing more than a diversion. Sweet and charming. So different from the pampered ladies of the ton.

The memory of Catherine splayed out on the breakfast room table resurfaced, and he amended his assessment. Seductive and tempting. Beautiful and thrilling.

His cock stirred and his stomach clenched. He wanted her. In his bed, with her golden tresses fanning over her body like an angel’s cape, while she gazed up at him with desire-filled eyes.

He bit back a curse. Control, Somerton!

My lord?” she called softly. “Was there something you needed me to do before I left?”

Sebastian squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to recall Ashcroft’s lifeless body lying in the middle of a dark alley, his clothes soaked with blood and discarded human waste. The awful scene had the desired effect. His erection withered in record time, leaving him with the sour mood of an unfulfilled man.

I assume I’ll have your undivided attention tomorrow, Mrs. Ashcroft?”

Her spine straightened. “Of course.”

No midweek jaunts through the countryside while I’m here dealing with the repairs?”

What is this about, my lord?”

We had an agreement, madam.”

True. Your point?”

For the next several days, you’re working for me, and I expect your full attention on the task.”

The tips of her ears turned scarlet. “I’m working with you, not for you.”

Sebastian opened his mouth to argue, but she held up a staying hand.

After my husband turned his back on us, the residents of Showbury blamed me for Jeffrey’s absence.” She swallowed hard. “I constantly battled greedy shopkeepers, disapproving matrons, and small-minded men. If the vicar had not stepped in and befriended me, I’m not sure what I would have done.”

The tension thrumming through his body drained away.

I owe much to Mr. Foster,” she said, “and will happily accept any of his requests for assistance. Now, if you will excuse me, my lord.” She gathered her things, and Sebastian watched it all through a narrow, slightly blurry lens. He felt like a fool, and offering his apology seemed inadequate.

He had no sooner finished the thought when he found himself standing before her, aching to pull her into his arms and kiss away the angry lines scouring her forehead.

Instead, in the softest voice he could manage, he asked, “Will I see you tomorrow?”

She glanced away as if to give the question considerable thought. Sebastian held his breath, afraid to make the slightest move.

Might you behave yourself?”

It is my dearest wish to do so.”

Pounding feet sounded down the corridor. Within seconds, his butler knocked on the door before sticking his harassed face through the opening. “My lord,” Grayson panted. “Mr. Foster to see you.”

The vicar squeezed by Grayson. “I’m sorry for barging in, my lord. Mrs. Ashcroft. But I’ve received some unsettling news about Meghan McCarthy.”

Catherine rushed forward and placed her hand on the vicar’s sleeve. Sebastian’s hands curled at his sides.

What’s happened, sir? Please don’t tell me something is wrong with the baby.”

No, ma’am,” he said. “Well, yes. I mean—”

She grasped his hand in both of hers. “Take a deep breath, Mr. Foster.”

He sent her a sad smile. “You’re always so strong.” He pulled in a long breath. “Yes, something is wrong. Very wrong. Meghan McCarthy’s gone missing.”

***

After sending word to her mother at Winter’s Hollow, Catherine and Lord Somerton accompanied the vicar to the McCarthys to help search for the missing girl. According to Mr. Foster, Meghan McCarthy went for a walk with a friend after their meeting with her on Saturday and she never returned home. Figuring their daughter had decided to stay the night at her friend’s house, something she often did, the family did not begin to worry until she failed to return home the following afternoon.

When they entered the McCarthy cottage, Catherine noted Meghan’s younger sister and brother huddled in a corner, watching their father shove items into a satchel. Both Declan and his wife looked as though they hadn’t slept in days, and Mrs. McCarthy’s eyes were red-rimmed and sunken with grief.

What is the latest, Declan?” the vicar asked.

Still no sign,” the carpenter said. “We’ve pounded on every door and traveled down every lane. Sally Porter said she parted ways with my Meghan near the woods about a mile from here. I’ll search the woodland and then the waterfall she liked to visit.”

Somerton asked, “Do you think she left with the baby’s father?”

Mrs. McCarthy shook her head. “My daughter’s refusal to provide the man’s name was not because she wanted to protect him, but rather to protect her and the babe.”

Catherine recalled her suspicions about Meghan’s reticence. “She was afraid of the father?”

Mrs. McCarthy shared a look with her husband. “We believed so, although the stubborn girl would not admit it.”

When everyone fell silent, Lord Somerton asked, “Is no one else assisting with the search?”

McCarthy’s features hardened. “No.”

The earl didn’t react, but Catherine sensed his anger. Her own temper and disappointment bubbled to the surface. “No one?”

The people around here have never welcomed us.” Mrs. McCarthy blotted her nose. “If not for your assistance, ma’am, we would have left months ago.”

I did little more than nudge a few customers in your husband’s direction,” Catherine said. “Mr. McCarthy’s work speaks for itself.”

The vicar and I will help search the woodlands.” Lord Somerton’s pronouncement held an age-old ring of authority that the other two men responded to without question.

Thank you, m’lord,” McCarthy said. “I welcome the extra eyes.”

Mr. Foster nodded. “I’m ready.”

As am I,” Catherine said.

Lord Somerton turned to her, his gaze assessing. “Your skills would be better employed elsewhere, madam.”

Her spine stiffened. “Do not think to exclude me. Meghan is my friend, and I will not leave until she is found.”

I thought as much,” he said.

Then define ‘elsewhere,’ if you please.”

Are you up for a few social calls?”

Her brows drew together, not understanding.

We need more people to assist with the search.”

His meaning became clear, and Catherine felt like a fool for her reaction. The one thing she had mastered over the years was the fine art of prodding people to do what they would not otherwise do if left to their own devices. “Of course.” To the vicar, she asked, “May I borrow your gig, sir?”

By all means, Mrs. Ashcroft.”

What of me, m’lord?” Mrs. McCarthy asked. “How can I help?”

Somerton laid his hand on her shoulder. “Let us prepare for the worst, ma’am. Do you have clean linens you can tear into strips?”

She nodded.

Good,” he said. “Have several ready along with hot water and whatever medical supplies you have. Also, keep an eye out for any recruits Mrs. Ashcroft sends our way. Let them know where to find us. Can you manage it all?”

Yes, m’lord,” she said. “I prefer to stay busy.”

Very well.” He pointed at Declan’s bag. “Do you have any weapons stashed in there?”

The carpenter hesitated a moment, his lips firming into a grim line. “Yes.”

Good,” the earl said. “Shall we go?”

Declan glanced at the vicar, who smiled.

They left the McCarthys’ cottage en masse. Catherine made her way to the vicar’s gig, while the men set off for the wooded area. When she prepared to climb into the conveyance, Lord Somerton’s hand materialized in front of her.

Startled, she glanced at him, accepting his assistance. “Did you need something, my lord?”

See if you can locate a cart.” He unraveled his cravat and shrugged out of his coat. “And do something with these, if you will.”

Without thought, she draped his garments over her lap as if she’d performed the same act a hundred times before. The mindless deed gave her a brief opportunity to admire the bit of flesh revealed by his open neckline—until his words sank in. “A cart? Do you think Meghan’s injured?”

I don’t know,” he said. “As I mentioned to Mrs. McCarthy, it is best to prepare for the worst.”

Be careful,” she said.

His attention dropped to her mouth, brushed it softly with a single sweep of his gaze before lifting again.

The visual kiss had nearly the same impact as the stunning press of his lips. Catherine’s stomach clenched around a surge of longing so powerful she came close to reaching for him.

He stepped back. Had he sensed her temptation? Had he shared it?

Coerce as many as you can to come, Mrs. Ashcroft. Promise them whatever you must.”

The gravity of his tone told her he was more concerned with Meghan’s welfare than he cared to share.

A fresh wave of anger washed over her. How could Showbury’s residents turn their backs on the McCarthys at a time like this? To do so was simply unthinkable.

She would enjoy this opportunity to remind her neighbors of the many times Mr. and Mrs. McCarthy had set aside their own duties to harvest a crop or protect a home from high waters. She narrowed her eyes on the lane ahead. Yes, indeed.

Promises will not be necessary, my lord.” She flicked the reins. “Be prepared for my return.”

Two hours later, Catherine led a large group of chagrined neighbors to the small meadow near the woods. Not long after their arrival, Lord Somerton emerged from the treeline, looking disheveled but no less determined.

Mr. Baggert helped her from the gig, and Catherine rushed to greet the earl.

He glanced over her shoulder, appreciation lighting his blue-gray eyes. “You did well.”

Some had already come to their senses and were making their way here,” she said with unexpected shyness. “Others came around with a few not so subtle reminders. No sign of Meghan yet?”

He shook his head. “We’ve combed the wooded area as best we can with the three of us. I’ll have your troops sweep through again, while McCarthy, Foster, you, and I search the streambed that leads to her waterfall.”

McCarthy and the vicar joined them, and the earl explained his plan. The carpenter nodded his understanding, but his gaze was on the assembly behind Catherine.

They want to help,” Catherine said.

Why now?”

I think they had time to consider what they would do if their circumstances were reversed.”

Lord Somerton placed his hand on McCarthy’s shoulder. “Allow me to set up a search line and provide the group with some instructions and then we can set upon the stream.”

Catherine could tell the carpenter wanted nothing more than to continue his sweep of the area. But in a short period of time, the earl had won McCarthy’s respect to the point of deferral.

Your wife said you have not eaten anything since yesterday,” Catherine said. “She sent a small basket of foodstuff along, as did many of the women from the village.”

Thank you, ma’am,” he said. “But I’m not hungry.”

You soon will be and probably at a most inconvenient time.” She motioned him toward the gig. “Eat, please. Keep up your strength until we find Meghan. You, too, Mr. Foster.”

Did the ladies by chance send refreshment?” Mr. Foster asked.

Yes,” she said. “We have water and ale in the back.”

The carpenter pulled a sandwich from an overflowing basket. “I should never have let her out of my sight. She was always so trusting of strangers.”

Meghan’s disappearance was not your fault, Declan,” the vicar said. “You cannot always know another’s mind, no matter how much you love them.”

Ready?” The earl strode toward them and did not stop. He simply wrapped his long fingers around her elbow and pulled her gently, yet firmly, along. “Mrs. Ashcroft and I will head north a quarter mile and work our way down. You two gentlemen head upstream from the south. We will meet in the middle, or until we find Meghan. Agreed?

Yes, my lord,” came their reply.

Good luck, gentlemen.”

They walked in tense silence until the men were out of earshot.

You think something has happened to Meghan, don’t you?” she asked.

I cannot be sure.”

What do your instincts tell you?”

That this day is going to end badly.”

Catherine bit her lip, trapping the grief welling up in the back of her throat. “Who would want to harm such a sweet girl?”

Bad people do bad things,” he said. “Sometimes for personal gratification, other times out of fear.”

She sent him a sideways glance. “You sound as if you know firsthand, my lord.”

I do.”

Did my husband also know?”

His fingers tightened around her arm. “Yes.”

You won’t share his travails with me?”

He released her arm to grasp her hand, guiding her through a thicket of shrubbery. “Start scanning for anything out of the ordinary. Discarded clothing, a disturbed area… anything.”

His mention of discarded clothing had the desired effect, for Catherine’s line of thought quickly reverted back to Meghan. They traipsed through the thicket for several more minutes until the underbrush gave way to a twenty-foot bluff overlooking a stream.

Under different circumstances, she would have stopped to enjoy the gently rolling hill, the fluttering leaves, and the twittering birds. But the earl paused only long enough to determine the best path downward. Every unsteady step they made toward the stream increased her trepidation, her certainty that they would find Meghan in an unwelcome situation.

She shrugged off the vile images. Meghan was alive. This business with the unnamed father had everyone suspicious and on edge. Perhaps the girl ran away with her lover, knowing her parents wouldn’t approve of the match.

Then again, Meghan could have taken a nasty tumble and now she lay injured somewhere, awaiting rescue. So many possibilities. So many unknowns. She glanced around. So much ground to cover.

Hold on.” The earl did his best to keep their descent steady and sure, but the steepness and decaying leaf litter made it impossible. Every few steps, her foothold would give way and she would slide several inches until he steadied her again. Three-quarters of the way down, they gave up the fight and barreled down the hill.

The moment they hit firm, even ground, he turned south. “We will stay to this side. The stream is wide enough and deep enough here that it’s unlikely the girl crossed over.” He scanned in front of them. “Are you able to keep to within five feet of the water without my assistance? I would like to increase our efforts by moving up the hill a bit.”

Because she had walked to the earl’s, rather than take Gypsy, she had her sturdy boots on. “I’ll manage quite well.”

He rested his hand on her cheek. “You’re being very brave, Catherine.”

She nodded, unable to speak. His unexpected gentleness and praise threw her off balance. “Thank you for not insisting I keep Mrs. McCarthy company.”

He cradled her other cheek, studying every nuance of her face. Before her eyes, his features grew stormy, almost savage in their intensity. “Be careful,” he said in a rough whisper.

Then he kissed her. Not a quick, hard, possessive kiss. But a hot, I’m-fighting-against-my-natural-instincts kiss. The pads of her fingers had barely grazed his back when he pulled away, almost as if he feared her touch.

Remember,” he said, “do not discount anything you see, no matter how small.”

I won’t.”

They continued in a southerly direction, often in concentrated silence and sometimes stopping to investigate. As they closed in on the small waterfall, Catherine couldn’t decide if she was relieved or disappointed. She mentioned as much to the earl as they picked their way along a rocky edge that led down to a small pool of water.

If she’s not here,” he said, “we will continue until we find her.”

His calm assurance amazed her. “Have you even met Meghan?”

I caught a glimpse of her once.” He eyed her. “Why do you ask?”

Simply trying to understand your willingness to help the McCarthys, when others who knew them were not.”

He held out his hand to help her around a particularly difficult area. “Despite my absence these last few years, I take my responsibility to my estate and those who care for it seriously.”

Yes, I can see that you do.” She hopped from one rock to the next. “But that does not account for your insistence that I do whatever it took to bring additional help.”

Perhaps I can empathize with the McCarthys on some level.”

She halted. “Did you lose someone, my lord?”

He set his hands on his hips, staring out over the area below. He nodded to someone, and Catherine saw the vicar and Mr. McCarthy meandering their way toward their location.

Lord Somerton?”

Yes, Mrs. Ashcroft,” he said through tight lips. “I lost someone quite dear to me. It is not a feeling I would wish on anyone else.”

She stepped closer. “Did you find him or her?”

Her.” He swallowed hard. “Yes, I found her. She will never fully recover from the trials of her ordeal.”

I am sorry to hear that.”

As am I, madam. Come.” He grasped her hand again. “Let us join the others. I fear the weather has taken a turn.”

It was then Catherine noticed the two men below were cast in deep shadows. She chanced a glance to the west, above the treetops, and found a line of dark clouds rolling their way. The sight was so ominous that Catherine could not stop the thought that Mother Nature was sending them a sign.

Once they reached the other men, Declan McCarthy asked, “Any sign of my Meghan?”

No,” Lord Somerton said. “Not even a set of tracks. Let us do a thorough search of this area before the storm hits.”

The temperature dropped and the air grew thick with moisture. Catherine shivered, wishing she had worn her warm wool cape, rather than her nankeen pelisse.

A man’s coat enfolded her in blessed warmth. She opened her mouth to thank the earl, but found the vicar’s smiling face. “You looked chilled.”

Thank you, Mr. Foster,” she said. “I’m afraid I wasn’t prepared for such a drastic shift in the weather.”

Nor could you have been,” he assured her. “None of us expected all of this.”

Vicar,” the earl said. “Perhaps you should take Mrs. Ashcroft back to the gig and see her home. McCarthy and I will finish up here. Once the storm passes, we can resume our efforts.”

Catherine wanted to argue, but she knew the men would be concentrating on her comfort, rather than on looking for signs of Meghan. “Thank you. I will check on things at Winter’s Hollow and then return to sit with Mrs. McCarthy.”

And I will see how the other search progresses,” the vicar said.

The wind picked up, freeing locks of her hair and whipping them into her eyes. She trapped her escaped tresses with one hand at her temple, gazing back at the earl. A sudden reluctance to leave him behind kept her rooted in place.

Standing in his shirtsleeves and waistcoat, he resembled a gentleman pirate with the wind molding fabric over his muscles, outlining the hidden strength beneath.

He nodded toward the woodland behind her. “Go.”

His soft command carried a note of tenderness that tangled with Catherine’s heart. What would she do if she found out this man was responsible for Jeffrey’s murder? She feared the answer became more complicated with every minute she spent in his presence.

She turned and followed the vicar from the clearing. Within seconds, the rain fell. Sharp, driving nails of water stabbed her face. She tucked in her chin and squinted her eyes. As she stepped under the canopy of trees, the rain eased but the wind kept up its relentless pace.

Unable to ignore the nagging voice in her head, she peered over her shoulder to check on the earl while keeping apace with the vicar. The earl stood alone, with his hand shielding his eyes, watching her.

She stumbled over a rut, propelling her forward. Her shin connected with something hard, and her world tilted downward. She braced herself for the impact. Rather than hitting hard soil, her hands sank into rich, pungent earth made soupy by the downpour.

Everything happened so fast, she didn’t think to call out or even shriek her alarm. She glanced up to see the vicar had veered to the left to avoid a low-hanging branch. Had she not been preoccupied with Lord Somerton, she would have followed him on the safer route.

As it was, she was literally elbow deep in mud. “Mr. Foster, I need your assistance.”

She clambered to her knees, or at least tried to. Her hands plunged deeper and deeper into the wet soil. And then her hand connected with something firm and round. A log, perhaps. When she made to push off, she realized it couldn’t be a log. The surface beneath her hand was too pliable. Too smooth.

Too familiar.

She stared down at her arm, where it disappeared inside a mound of too-fresh earth. “Oh, God.” Water rolled down her temples and streamed into her eyes. She blinked to clear her vision, only to have them fill up again.

Mrs. Ashcroft, are you injured?”

Catherine heard the vicar’s voice, but her full concentration resided on her exploratory fingers. She didn’t speak. She daren’t breathe. Her fingers and her heart were the only things that moved.

When she came across an object that had the distinctive features of a hand, she screamed.

***

Sebastian was already racing through the relentless sheet of rain when he heard Catherine’s scream. He knew what it meant. Had heard that type of scream too many times to count. But once was enough to have it seared onto one’s brain like a brand scorching one’s flesh. Painful. Memorable. Permanent.

It was the sound of horror.

A sound dredged up from one’s most primitive core, when the sight before one is so heinous, so unexpected as to terrify one’s soul.

Catherine had found death in those woods.

Mrs. Ashcroft, what are you doing?” the vicar cried.

Help me!” she commanded.

Sebastian broke through the underbrush and took in the macabre scene with one glance. Catherine and the vicar were bent over a mound, scooping up handfuls of mud and throwing them to the side. Their frenzied movements told him all he needed to know.

He hauled her up and set her behind him, nudging her toward the meadow. “Do what you can to keep McCarthy away from here. He will likely have heard you.” He dropped to his knees and focused on what he hoped was the upper end. “Vicar, start praying.”

Neither Catherine nor the girl’s father should see death in such a horrendous form. No one should. Sebastian had feared this ending, though he had held out hope for something more palatable like an elopement. But his instincts could not ignore the signs of foul play anymore than a sailor can ignore a red sky in the morning.

A man’s roar of pain sounded from behind him. “Faster, Vicar.”

No sooner did he give the command than the side of his hand glided over flesh. He stilled, as did the vicar. More carefully, he scraped away the mud. Section by section, they revealed parts of the girl’s face. First, her mouth, open and full of wet dirt. Then her nose and cheeks. And finally, her eyes. They stared straight ahead, the rain rinsing them clean to reveal the vacant gray irises of death.

Too late. Too damned late.

Mr. McCarthy, please don’t!”

Catherine’s entreaty was the only warning Sebastian had before the distraught father pushed him aside.

Oh, Jesus, no.” Declan McCarthy stared down at his dead daughter. Anguish like nothing Sebastian had ever seen crumpled the rugged man’s face. “No. Not my Meghan. Not my baby girl.” He dropped to his knees and picked up where Sebastian left off, removing great heaps of mud, apologizing and promising retribution in the same heaving breath.

Catherine, stay back,” Sebastian ordered when she made to move to his side. “McCarthy, allow me to do this for you.”

The brawny carpenter ignored him, shoveling away layers of mud and dirt until finally his daughter’s body was revealed. Meghan lay squeezed inside a shallow grave, with no visible wounds or signs of trauma. Only a small bump on her stomach, marking a second, much smaller grave.

Sweet Jesus.” The scene was so horrific that even Sebastian had to avert his eyes. He looked for Catherine and found her several feet away, her mud-slicked hands covering her silent sobs. He wanted to go to her, wanted to wrap her small frame within the safety of his arms. But he knew in these situations that those involved needed to stay occupied in order to hold back the shock. He noticed she no longer wore the vicar’s coat.

Catherine.” He drew her hands from her face, but she continued to stare straight ahead. He bent to peer into her eyes. “Catherine, I need Mr. Foster’s coat.”

She blinked once, then several more times in quick succession before her gaze cleared.

Did you hear me?” he asked. “Please find where you dropped the vicar’s coat.”

Yes.” She nodded and swiveled to find the fallen garment.

Vicar, please relieve Mrs. Ashcroft of your coat once she finds it and bring it to me.”

Yes, my lord.”

McCarthy bent to lift his daughter from her watery grave, and Sebastian laid a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I’ll help you.”

The carpenter nodded and moved to grab Meghan’s legs.

Sebastian braced his boot on the opposite side of the hole and then burrowed his hands under the girl’s shoulders. “Ready.”

Together, they hauled her up, the action creating an awful sucking noise as the pit released the girl from its inky grip. That’s when Sebastian noticed the deep purple bruises circling her thin throat.

The vicar appeared at Sebastian’s side, using his coat to protect McCarthy’s memories as much as possible. They laid her on the ground and everyone stared at her ragged form in appalled silence. Sebastian broke the spell, intending to carry the girl to the cart, but McCarthy shook his head.

I’ll be doing that, m’lord. I failed to protect her as I should. This will be my penance.”

Catherine opened her mouth to reassure the grieving father, but Sebastian shook his head. Words would not cut through the man’s grief and recriminations; only time would do that. A good deal of time.

He held his hand out to her, needing the contact. She came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, burrowing her face in his chest. He kissed her sodden head, giving McCarthy time to cradle his daughter in his arms and set off for the meadow, with the vicar leading the way.

Sebastian framed her sweet face, thankful the rain had gentled to a light patter. “I’m sorry you had to witness such evil.”

She grasped his wrists, turning tearful eyes up to his. “Who would do such a thing?”

I don’t know, but I vow to find out.” He shifted her to his side, though he did not let go. “Come, let us be quit of this place.”

Several hours later, Sebastian drew Reaper to a halt outside Bellamere’s thick double doors, with Catherine snuggled in his arms. He hadn’t the heart to take her home, where her daughter would see her mother in such a disheveled state and would no doubt shower Catherine with difficult questions.

Although the driving rain had rinsed most of the mud off, their skin and clothes were still stained with bits of silt. Catherine’s blond hair hung in long, lanky clumps down her back, and her boots carried deep, ruinous gashes.

Grayson and two footmen appeared, rushing to Sebastian’s aid. “My lord,” Grayson said. “Is Mrs. Ashcroft injured? Should I prepare a room?”

No and yes,” Sebastian said. “Please send word to Winter’s Hollow that Mrs. Ashcroft is fine, but will be staying the evening here. Leave two footmen over there as a precaution. And have Mrs. Fox draw us hot baths.”

Sebastian could not wait to be rid of his damp, abrasive clothes. He was certain Catherine felt the same, although she hadn’t spoken a word since leaving McCarthy’s cottage.

My lord.” Catherine stirred, her voice raw. “What are we doing here? I must make sure Sophie and my mother are well.”

I sent two footmen to stay with them,” he said. “They will see that clean clothes are sent over.” He skimmed the backs of his fingers over her cheek. “It’s best you stay here tonight. You’re in no condition to see your daughter.”

But the killer—”

He’s accomplished what he wanted and is likely long gone.”

The tension in her body drained away, replaced by a racking shiver.

Here, let us get you out of the elements.” With Grayson’s support, Sebastian set her down. “Steady.”

He dismounted, handing the reins to his butler and offering an arm to the widow. “Grayson, please see what Mrs. Fox can find in the way of food. Mrs. Ashcroft has not eaten all day.”

Nor have you.” She snaked her hand into the crook of his arm, leaning on him as they made their way inside. “Bath first, food later.”

Another footman arrived to relieve Grayson of his hostler duties.

My lord.” Grayson entered the entry hall behind them. “I’m told the countess’s bedchamber is the only aired room. The maids are working on the rose room.”

No need,” Sebastian said. “Mrs. Ashcroft can use the countess’s chamber.”

Oh, no,” Catherine said. “I am happy to wait for the rose room.”

You would have the maids go through all that extra work for no reason?” Sebastian knew she worried about the impropriety of sleeping in a bedchamber next to his, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He wanted her close.

She glanced from him to Grayson, as if the butler would help plead her case. Grayson, like most seasoned servants, learned long ago not to get involved in his employer’s business.

No, I suppose not,” she said.

Is there a fire in the drawing room?” Sebastian asked.

Yes, my lord.”

We will wait there while Mrs. Ashcroft’s bathwater is drawn.”

Grayson bowed. “Very well, sir.”

They made their way to the drawing room, and Catherine held her hands out to the fire. Flickering red-gold light reflected off her face, revealing a classic profile but for the dark hollows beneath her eyes.

What a horrible end to what would otherwise have been a grand day,” she said.

Given they had started the day off by making love on his table, he had to agree with her.

You knew all along, didn’t you?”

Knew what?” he asked.

That we would find her dead.”

Not with any great certainty.”

She snorted. “That’s what my husband would have called a clanker.”

Sebastian’s jaw clenched. How did this woman continually see through his mask? “She could have eloped.”

But you suspected otherwise.” She sent him a sidelong glance. “Instinct? Or something else?”

Ice trailed down his spine. “Do you have an accusation you would like to share, madam?”

Her probing gaze lost its courage, and she shifted her attention back to the fire. “Of course not, my lord.”

Sebastian grappled with his temper. In his line of work, he was used to being an object of suspicion and the veracity of his words always suspect. But to have her question his integrity, especially over the murder of an enceinte girl, burned every nerve ending in his body.

Outside of explaining her husband’s role in the Nexus and the facts around his murder, Sebastian had been careful not to lie to her. Very careful.

By your own admission,” she said, “you have enjoyed an interesting past. One that has more than a passing familiarity to the insidious side of mankind. I thought perhaps this incident reminded you of something that occurred in London.”

His nostrils flared around a deep breath. When he released it, a great weight drifted away as well. “Only one other occasion comes close to matching what I saw today. Neither image will lose its grip any time soon.” His mouth felt suddenly dry, and his thoughts turned to the decanters in his study. “But you are right in that my past has prepared me for days like today.”

A past involving my husband?”

All the weight came crashing down on him again. “You are nothing if not relentless, madam.”

A shadow crossed her face. “I suppose I am,” she said. “Without the protection of a husband, it’s how I’ve survived living in Showbury all these years.”

Sebastian tried to swallow back the guilt that clawed its way up his throat, but his mouth had gone completely dry. Not a single drop of saliva to soothe the sensation of his throat being ripped apart. He grasped the mantel to hold himself in place.

Won’t you tell me what you know about Jeffrey?” she asked, driving the pain deeper.

I cannot.”

Why can’t you? Do you not think I deserve to know the truth?”

He closed his eyes. “Of course I do.”

Then why, my lord? I don’t understand.”

I know you don’t.” He pushed away from the fireplace and paced the small room. “And I can’t enlighten you.”

Can’t, my lord?”

He whipped around. No one in the last decade had challenged him in the way this woman dared. Not his subordinates or his superiors. She poked and prodded and pried into places that could get them all killed. Did she not understand his silence protected her? And her daughter?

No, because he could not tell her. Not even that much.

But he could reveal the circumstances surrounding Ashcroft’s death. At least some of them. “You win, Mrs. Ashcroft.”

I-I do?”

Yes,” he said. “But I doubt your victory will be as satisfactory as you believe.”

Then again, you might be wrong.”

A knock sounded at the door.

The widow’s eyes narrowed.

Sebastian sent up a prayer of thanks. “Enter.”

Pardon, my lord,” the housekeeper said, peering around the door.

Yes, Mrs. Fox?”

Mrs. Ashcroft’s bathwater is ready.”

He looked to Catherine. “After you.”

She stopped in front of him. Fierce brown eyes settled on him. “I intend to hear more about this victory.”