Diamonds and Dreams (48 page)

Once in the bedroom, Tyler pretended to
examine its size. “It’s an impressive room. Perfect for a duke and
his duchess.”

Dora affected an imperious nod. “I want
wallpaper. Lots o’ rugs. An’ all new furniture. I hate this wot’s
in here.”

Tyler took out his notepad, jotting down her
instructions. He knew by the look on her face that she could read
nothing at all of what he wrote. The knowledge gave him an idea.
“You hate the furniture?” he asked, ambling to the superbly carved
desk by the window. He opened a few of the drawers, smiling when he
saw the many papers inside. “Ah, yes. I can see why you don’t care
for it. It’s cheaply made. The drawers squeak terribly.”

He scanned the papers on the tops of the
piles, his eyes drawn to a soiled scrap. Hiding his actions from
Dora, he picked it up and read the name written on it.
Diggory
Ferris.
Where had he heard that name before? Something began to
nag at the back of his mind, but he couldn’t understand what it
was.

“Wot are ya doin’ with milord’s things?”
Dora blurted.

Deftly, Tyler slipped the scrap into his
pocket and picked up another paper. “What a beautiful name you
have, Lady Hutchins.”

“Wot makes ya say that?” Dora asked, joining
him at the desk.

Tyler showed her the paper. “This appears to
be a love letter. Angelica. Yes, what a beautiful name. Forgive me
for reading this, milady, but I confess to being a romantic at
heart, and I don’t remember ever having read anything so romantic.
Lord Hutchins must love you very much.”

Dora stiffened, her face wrinkling into
lines of rage. “Wot’s the letter say?” she asked, her voice
shaking.

“Oh, you mean he hasn’t given it to you yet?
Perhaps I should return it to the drawer and— Good heavens!” he
said, lifting another stack of papers from the drawer. “
Look
at all these love letters! Why, they date back to some five years
ago!”

“Read one,” Dora ordered.

Tyler looked at a bill for farm equipment.
“My darling Angelica,” he pretended to read. “Before knowing you,
my life was dismal and empty. I searched long and hard for a woman
like you. You fill my every thought, and you must know, my darling,
that Dora will never take your place in my heart. She is but a
willing wench from the village, unfit to be under the same roof as
you. It is you I love, Angelica. You, always and for—”

“That bleedin’ bastard,” Dora hissed.
“Friggin’—”

“Lady Hutchins!” Tyler exclaimed, feigning
horror. “What a thing to say about your own husband! Look at all
these beautiful letters he’s written to you! For five whole years
he’s been pouring his heart out to you—”

“Not to me. I’m Dora. Dora Mashburn,” she
cried, losing all control and sobbing into her hands. “And he ain’t
me husband! He’s done me wrong from the very beginnin’, he has! A
couple o’ nights ago, he even called me by her name! I fergave him.
I
always
fergave him, but the letter ya read—All those
letters—They prove wot he really thinks o’ me, they do!”

Tyler allowed her to cry for a moment
longer, then put his hand on her shoulder. “But he must have
changed his mind about you, Dora. He did, after all, send me to
redecorate your bedroom, did he not?”

Sniffling, Dora looked up from her hands. A
shred of hope came to her. “Did he say wot colors ter do it
in?”

“Oh, he did indeed. His orders were that I
was to do the entire room in your very favorite shades—green and
gold.”

Dora staggered backward, wailing loudly.
“But I wanted crimson an’ white! Green an’ gold be
her
colors, not mine! Her! Always her!”

“Angelica?” Tyler pressed.

Dora shook violently. “He’s always
pretendin’ she’s still alive! He shuts his eyes an’ makes believe
I’m her!”

“Are you saying this Angelica woman
died?”

“Fell down the stairs one night an’ broke
her bleedin’ neck!”

“Oh, how dreadful.”

“It weren’t dreadful! It were a blessin’! I
hated her on sight the day she got here! She lost her ring, an’ she
said I took it! I never even
saw
the flamin’ thing! Well,
dead’s
wot she is now, an’ I’m glad!”

“Oh, my! I certainly hope you didn’t have to
witness her death!”

Dora clenched her fists. “I weren’t here in
the house when she fell. It was me mum’s birthday that night, an’
we gave her a party in the village. Angelica died whilst the party
was goin’ on. But I can tell ya that if I’d been here, I’d have
cheered
when the bitch took her last breath!”

The birthday party.
Comprehension
dawned on Tyler. It clearly sounded as if Dora was innocent. At any
rate, it would be easy enough to see if many of the villagers
remembered seeing her at her mother’s birthday party on the night
of Angelica’s death. If so, she’d have an ironclad alibi. Still, he
mused, she might be able to tell him
something
. “Oh, miss,
please forgive me for distressing you so. I didn’t mean to do this
at all. I’m well aware that discussing Lord Hutchin’s betrayal must
be agonizing for you. But look at it this way. He got his just
desserts when he found that Angelica woman with her neck broken.
Surely the pain he must have felt at seeing her lying there—”

“He didn’t find her,” a man said from the
doorway. “I did.”

Tyler recognized him immediately. “Doyle,”
he said tonelessly, glancing at the gun the man held in his
hand.

“It’s been a long time, Escott,” William
Doyle said, walking into the room. “The last time I saw you...it
was at a dinner party, was it not?”

Dora wiped her tearstained face with the
back of her hand. “Mr. Doyle, wot are ya doin’ here? An’ wot are ya
doin’ with that gun?”

“I only just arrived,” William explained to
her. “And it would seem I got here just in time. Now step away from
Mr. Escott, Dora.”

“Mr. Escott?” Dora repeated, confused. “This
is Mr. Tyler. Dane sent him to redecorate.”

“
Sent him?”
Doyle demanded. “Dane’s
not here? Where is he?”

Dora’s eyes narrowed with anger. “I heard
him tell the coachman ter take him ter London. But I don’t know wot
kind o’ business the bastard has there,” she spat.

At Dora’s announcement, Tyler scowled. Dane
Hutchins was in London. So were Lord Tremayne and Goldie Mae. Tyler
felt a deep wave of apprehension.

Doyle gritted his teeth. He’d come to
Ravenhurst to dispose of Dane, and the idiot wasn’t here! Dammit,
what was the imbecile doing in London? He struggled with his fury,
realizing he had to concentrate on the problem at hand—Tyler
Escott. He’d deal with Dane as soon as Tyler was out of the way.
And he’d have to kill Dora, too. She’d seen and heard entirely too
much for his liking.

“Dora, this man is Tyler Escott,” he
explained. He walked to Tyler and quickly found the gun in Tyler’s
belt. Tossing it across the room, he backed away again. “Escott is
a detective, and I have a sneaking suspicion he’s here on
Tremayne’s orders. You are about to die with him, my dear.”

Dora’s mouth opened to emit a silent scream
before she crumpled to the floor.

Tyler realized she’d fainted. He looked back
up at Doyle. As he did so, he saw a shadow move in the hallway, and
knew one of his men had come. He must have seen Doyle arrive. Tyler
almost smiled. “So you found Angelica’s body. That means Hutchins
is the one who pushed her down the staircase.”

Doyle sneered. “Why are you so certain she
didn’t fall all by herself? She was wearing a long night rail, and
it was dark. She might have tripped.”

“She didn’t trip, and you know it.”

“For a man who is about to die, you are
absurdly brave, Escott.”

Tyler saw the shadow move again. “Let us say
that I prefer to go to my grave having solved my last case.”

Doyle laughed and ran a finger over his
stiff mustache. “Angelica would have spoiled everything,” he began,
waving has gun as he spoke. “She was almost successful at doing
just that. She wrote a letter to Tremayne. I saw her give it to a
traveler on his way to London. He died, too. It was a drowning
accident. I thought at first I would have to cause an accident to
befall Angelica’s companion too. But the old hag saved her own skin
by sleeping day in and day out. I’m rather good at arranging
accidents.”

Tyler raised a brow. “Indeed.”

William nodded, smiling smugly. “Twenty
years ago, Marion Tremayne father began asking me questions I
didn’t care to answer. He had a hunting accident soon thereafter.
His gun misfired.”

“But it wasn’t an accident. You shot
him.”

“You’ve a brilliant mind, Escott. As perhaps
you’ve guessed, over the years, I have been using the Tremayne
fortune for my own purposes and am now a very wealthy man. Of
course there are still a few obstacles in my way. A few accidents
yet to arrange. You don’t, by any chance, know why Dane Hutchins is
in London, do you?”

Tyler thought of Goldie and Marion Tremayne
again. Foreboding almost strangled him, but he kept his wits about
him. “Hutchins is one of your obstacles?”

“He and Tremayne. They’ll both die, as will
you and that bitch on the floor there. No one who knows anything
about me can be left alive, you see. Now I ask you again, Escott.
Do you know why Dane is in London?”

“Do you really think I would tell you?”

“Then I damn you to hell.”

Tyler watched as William raised the gun, and
felt the beginnings of panic. Why hadn’t his man overtaken Doyle
yet? What was he waiting for?

“Good-bye, Escott,” William said. Slowly, he
curled his finger around the trigger.

Tyler took a sudden dive toward William’s
legs and saw the gun drop to the floor. He made a wild grab for it,
but Doyle reached it first. Belly on the floor, Tyler froze,
waiting to feel the bullet end his life.

But it never came. Instead, Tyler heard a
thud and watched his assailant crash to the floor beside him. He
looked up, saw his savior, and frowned. It wasn’t Ingram or
Dickinson.

Asa Mae stood before him, clutching a heavy
silver candlestick in his hand. “God Almighty,” Asa whispered.
“I’ve done a lot of things in my life, but I ain’t never killed a
man.”

Tyler looked at William Doyle. “He’s not
dead, Asa. And Dora isn’t either. How did you know I needed help?
Did you see this man arrive?”

Asa shook his head. “I just wanted to ask
you if you wanted to have supper with me and Big, is all. I
couldn’t find you at first, but ole Miz Crawton? Well, she come to
the cottage with a pie for us, and she said she seen you goin’
inside this house. It’s a damn good thing I come up here, ain’t
it?”

Tyler nodded, rose from the floor, and
strode quickly toward the door, anxious to start back for London.
He had to find Dane Hutchins. Had to warn Marion Tremayne that the
deranged man was in the city!

Asa threw the candlestick down and grabbed
Tyler’s arm. “I heard everything while I was in the hall. Do—Do
y’know my Goldie Mae? She went to London to find the duke. Has the
man said anything about meetin’ her? Did he tell you anything at
all about a real tiny girl with blonde hair and freckles?”

Tyler looked into Asa’s worried eyes. He
hated lying to the man who’d saved his life, but until Hutchins was
caught, Tyler didn’t want anyone to know a thing about Marion
Tremayne or Goldie. “I’m sorry, Asa, but no, he didn’t say a word
to me about meeting any girl. I—”

A loud knock at the front door cut him
short. “Stay here and watch Doyle.” He gave Asa Doyle’s gun,
retrieved his own pistol, then rushed downstairs. Opening the door
slowly, he saw the outline of a man in the shadow of one of the
pillars. He raised his gun.

“Sir, it’s me,” the man said. “Jensen. I’ve
just arrived from London. You left orders for us to inform you of
everything—”

“Jenson! What the hell are you—God. Has
something happened—Has Dane Hutchins—”

“Sir, is it all right to talk now? I’ve been
hiding out here because Ingram and Dickinson said you were with
that Dora—”

“Dammit, Jensen, stop your wittering and
tell me why you made a three-day trip from London to find me!”

“It may be nothing, Mr. Escott, but—Sir,
Lord Tremayne and Miss Mae were shot at in front of their house.
Neither was hurt. His lordship described the assailant as a coster.
The men and I found no leads to follow.”

“A coster?” Tyler scowled, trying to
understand. “Could have been attempted robbery. Maybe...”

His voice trailed away as a glimmer of
understanding came. “A coster,” he murmured uneasily. “Or perhaps
an East Ender.” Slipping his hand into his pocket, he withdrew the
dirty scrap of paper he’d found in Dane’s desk and read the name
again.

Diggory Ferris.
Tyler felt cold dread
when he finally recognized the name. “The Butcher,” he
whispered.

Dear God. Diggory Ferris, the most feared
assassin in the city, and Dane Hutchins, a dangerous madman...

Gut instinct told Tyler that Ferris was
probably in Hutchins’ employ. Together they were hunting their prey
in London.

A three-day journey away.

Addison took a seat by the fireplace,
dropping his hand over the arm of the chair to rub Margaret’s ears.
“Saber, the night you asked me if you could live here I mentioned
the robberies I’d heard about. If you had listened to me, that
shooting incident never would have happened. “

“Addison, I have lived for thirty years
without listening to you. I daresay I’ll live another thirty
without doing so.” Saber sat in the settee across from Addison.

Addison gave his friend an irritated look.
“What do Tyler’s men think?”

Saber dragged his fingers through his hair.
“They could find no leads. One man left for Ravenhurst to notify
Tyler about it, but none of them thought it logical to try and
connect a mere coster to Hutchins and Doyle. They, too, believe it
to have been attempted theft.”