If the Slipper Fits (21 page)

The villain must have concealed himself along the trail that led back to Castle Kevern. But they had strayed off the path, and so the gunman had been forced to reposition himself. That was when she’d heard the twig snap behind her on the hillside. Moments later, the shot had been fired.

By whom? And for what purpose? And worse, was it merely a ghastly happenstance that shortly thereafter, Lord Simon had ridden up the road with a rifle strapped to his saddle?

Reason told her he was the only one who would benefit from the duke’s death. Yet her heart resisted believing Lord Simon was a murderer. If he wanted his nephew dead, why shoot him in broad daylight and invite a criminal inquiry? Why risk being seen by a passing farmer or a servant? There were easier ways to make a death appear to be an accident. Poison the boy’s food, for instance. Or lure him up to the parapet and push him over onto the rocks below …

Annabelle shuddered at the gruesome image. Until the truth came out, she must keep an extremely close watch over Nicholas. She must also be careful not to make assumptions. Without solid proof on her side, she dared not make such a serious accusation against a man as powerful as Lord Simon.

Treading a circuit around the fountain, she tried to think of anyone else who might want Nicholas dead. Lady Louisa wished to wed Lord Simon, and if Nicholas were out of the way, she could aspire to become Duchess of Kevern, rather than merely the wife of a second son. Her father, Lord Danville, had bragged at the dinner table that she was a crack shot. Perhaps Lady Louisa had only claimed to be ill this morning, then had ridden here on the sly.

Yet try as she might, Annabelle couldn’t picture the elegant lady hiding in the bushes and stalking her prey. It was ludicrous even to consider such a thing. However, it was always possible that Lady Louisa had hired a ruffian to do the wicked deed.

And at least it proved there were other scenarios to consider—in addition to the possibility that the shooting truly
had
been unintentional, the mistake of a nearsighted local who’d wanted a rabbit for his stewpot.

The crunch of footsteps on gravel made Annabelle whirl around to see Lord Simon striding into the courtyard. He looked no less grim-faced than he’d been earlier.

She darted forward to meet him. “Did you see anyone?”

“No, but I did find this.” He was carrying the gunny-sack with their treasures from the beach.

“I forgot all about that!”

“It was helpful that you’d dropped it,” he said. “It enabled me to pinpoint exactly where you were standing. But I’m afraid I didn’t see evidence of a bullet anywhere in the immediate vicinity.”

One of his dark brows was raised, giving him a look of faint skepticism. Was he hinting that she must have imagined the incident? So that he could claim it had never happened?

“I heard the bullet fly directly past me,” she insisted. “It made a peculiar whining sound. Almost instantly, there was a loud report that echoed across the valley. Nicholas heard it, too.”

“If you don’t mind, I’d like for you to come out there with me. You may be able to help me determine the route of the bullet.”

Her heart skipped a beat at the notion of venturing into the woods with Lord Simon. Tall and intimidating, he loomed over her. He could easily overpower her in the isolation of the forest where no one would witness his attack. But she had to risk it for Nicholas’s sake.

Biting her lip, she nodded. “Of course.”

He left the gunnysack in the courtyard, then led the way into the trees. Sunlight sifted through the branches of the leafy oaks and tall firs. The brambles and vines helped create the illusion of a primeval forest far from civilization. Annabelle hadn’t remembered the hill being quite so steep and difficult to navigate. Of course, at the time, her mind had been focused on getting Nicholas back to the castle as swiftly as possible.

Lord Simon’s fingers suddenly closed around her arm. She drew a sharp, involuntary breath, glancing up to find him regarding her curiously.

“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said. “I thought you might need help stepping over this log.”

His nearness made her nervous. But she mustn’t flinch every time he came close or he might realize her suspicion of him. “I suppose I’m on edge,” she said. “Are you absolutely certain the poacher is gone?”

“Without a doubt. Anyone reckless enough to fire a gun so close to the castle wouldn’t linger to face the consequences.”

His hand firm on her arm, Lord Simon assisted her over the rotted remains of a tree trunk. It was the act of a gentleman, Annabelle told herself, and under normal circumstances she would have appreciated the courtesy. But there was nothing normal about this day.

A short distance later, they reached the spot where the tiny stream trickled through fallen leaves. “This is where I dropped the gunnysack,” she said.

“It was lying at the base of that beech tree.” Lord Simon stood a few steps away, his gaze steady on her. “I want you to tell me exactly what happened. Don’t leave anything out. Will you do that?”

Annabelle nodded. To give an accurate accounting of the events, she must assume he knew nothing, that he hadn’t been the one hiding in the bushes. Nevertheless, she felt reluctant to tell him the part about the spy on the cliff. If it had been him …

“As I said, Nicholas and I had just come up from the seashore. We took the path that led back to the castle, but he spied a rabbit and went chasing after it. I followed him as he came downhill this way.” She indicated the approximate route behind her.

He studied the ground. “There’s a heel mark right here. Did you slip?”

“Yes. The stream made the ground damp. My shoe skidded on the fallen leaves and I braced my hand on this tree.” Reliving the awful event, she flattened her palm against the smooth bark. “That was when I heard the bullet. It sounded like … an angry bee flying past my ear. Then Nicholas fell out of my sight … and I thought … I feared…”

As the horror of that moment swamped Annabelle, an uncontrollable shudder shook her and she uttered a small moan. If the bullet had been fired an instant sooner, Nicholas might have been killed. That sweet little boy … dead …

At once, she found herself enclosed in Lord Simon’s arms. His action was so unexpected that she lacked the will to object. As he pressed her close, his muscled chest provided surprising comfort and his body heat penetrated the coldness in her heart. Never before had she been so near to a man. Never had she known he could make her feel protected in a way that swept away logic and reason.

Surrendering to temptation, she burrowed her face into the crook of his neck and slid her arms around his waist. The steady beating of his heart soothed her distress. She needed this closeness with a keen desperation. Sweet heaven, she could scarcely believe how perfect it felt to be held by him.

His hands stroked in a soothing pattern over her back. “It’s over, Annabelle,” he murmured. “Nicholas is safe. There’s no harm done.”

His use of her first name caused a quake inside Annabelle. It startled her to an awareness of the impropriety of their embrace. Lord Simon was her employer and a man far above her in rank. Worse, he might have been the gunman. For all she knew, he might be deliberately charming her for the purpose of allaying her suspicions.

On that sobering thought, she broke free and retreated a few steps. “I—I’m sorry, my lord. I don’t know what came over me.”

His eyes regarded her with cool intensity. “You’ve suffered a shock, that’s all. There’s no need to apologize.”

“I didn’t feel so paralyzed at the time of the incident.”

“You instinctively did what needed to be done. You ran to check on my nephew, to see if he’d been hit.”

“Yes.” She bit her lip and looked away. “At first I couldn’t see him and it terrified me.”

“If you think you can manage it, why don’t you show me exactly where he was standing?”

The question provided her with a much-needed excuse to escape his compelling presence. “Of course.”

Annabelle gingerly picked her way down the forested slope. It was disturbing how easily his embrace had broken through her guard. She must keep a clear head and remember that trusting Lord Simon could be extremely dangerous. No one else had a better reason than he did for wanting Nicholas dead. And for an even more compelling purpose than inheriting the dukedom.

The boy was a constant reminder of the woman who had spurned Lord Simon.

She reached a small flat place that jutted into the hillside. Birds twittered in the ancient oaks that brooded over the miniature plateau. “Nicholas was standing right here,” Annabelle said, pointing at the ground. “You can see the depression in the leaves where he knelt down.”

Lord Simon stopped beside her, his brow furrowed. “I didn’t realize he’d ventured quite so far. I’d assumed he was much closer to you.”

“No, he was running to catch the rabbit, you see. I could scarcely keep up.”

Lord Simon paced away from her. He seemed to be inspecting the nearby trees. Then he crouched down to gaze more closely at one of the oaks more than a yard distant from where she stood. “We’re in luck,” he said over his shoulder.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ll see in a moment.”

He reached into his pocket for a penknife, employing the tip of the implement to dig at the bark. Then he returned to her and displayed a flattened ball nestled in his broad palm. “The bullet.”

Her heart tripped over a beat. She felt compelled to touch the misshapen orb with her fingertip. It seemed so tiny for something that could kill a person. “So the poacher fired this with his rifle.”

“No.” Lord Simon gave a decisive shake of his head. “It’s too small for the bore of a rifle. This ball came from a pistol.”

Chapter 16

A pistol! A giddy sense of relief washed through Annabelle. Then the rifle that had been lashed to the back of his saddle meant nothing. Nothing at all. Lord Simon had carried the gun with him only for the hunting party at Lord Danville’s estate.

Yet the news didn’t entirely exonerate him. She had to be careful not to take him at his word, for he might be leading her astray. He had reason to plot the duke’s death. And for all she knew, he might have kept a smaller weapon secreted in his saddlebags.

“Do you mean … a dueling pistol?” she asked. Didn’t many wealthy gentlemen own such a set? Annabelle wasn’t certain, though she’d read about men challenging each other to duels over insults to their honor.

Lord Simon deposited the ball in an inner pocket of his coat. “There are many types of pistols. However, what’s intriguing is that hunters generally use a rifle. The aim is more accurate when firing at a distant target.”

Her heart tripping over a beat, she gazed at him through the veil of her lashes. “Are you suggesting that the gunman wasn’t a poacher, after all?”

“I said
generally.
A pistol may have been the only weapon the scoundrel possessed.” Lord Simon spoke distractedly, the frown on his sun-darkened features indicating he was intent on his private thoughts. “Wait right here. Now that we have two points of reference, the trajectory will lead me directly to the spot where he was hiding.”

Starting at the oak, he marched in a straight line up the slope and past the place where she’d been standing when the shot had been fired. He continued onward several yards, then slowed down to peer closely at the undergrowth as he mounted the hill.

Annabelle anxiously watched him. Had he found something yet? Or were his actions an elaborate scheme designed to deceive her?

Only time would tell. In the meanwhile, she distracted herself by making a circuit of the ancient oaks. Despite being on an incline, the ground in this area was level except for a waist-high mound covered in thick vines, rather like an overgrown altar. With the leafy branches overhead and the trees marking the four corners, Annabelle felt as if she were standing in a cathedral designed by a nature deity.

What an odd fancy!

She glanced up the hill to see Lord Simon moving higher toward the castle. Where was he going? Had he found a trail left by the gunman?

Too restless to stand still, she continued walking around the perimeter of the oaks until she had made a full circle, arriving back at the place where Nicholas had dropped out of her sight. Here, he had stopped chasing the rabbit when he’d spied his little treasure lying on the ground.

On impulse, Annabelle crouched down to view the scene from his diminutive height. How different the world looked from a lower vantage point. It brought the surroundings into sharper focus. Thick piles of leaves and humus carpeted the earth, perfuming the air with a rich scent. A short distance away, a spider spun a web between the dried branches of a fallen limb. Shafts of sunshine cast a soft buttery light over the gentle mound in the center of the oaks.

Something glinted beneath the tangle of vines. She scooted closer and gingerly parted the vegetation, peering deep within the foliage.

Then she reached in and pulled out … a gardening trowel.

In great surprise, Annabelle turned the small implement over in her hands. It appeared to be rather new. Surely it would be pitted with rust if it had been abandoned here for many years. Had someone lost it recently? Or concealed it on purpose?

But why would anyone hide such a tool? The middle of a forested slope was hardly the ideal place to garden.

Mystified, she glanced around, looking for evidence that someone had been digging in the vicinity. Her gaze sharpened on the spot where Nicholas had been standing. In several places, crumbs of dirt lay atop the foliage as if the leaf mold had been shoved aside, and then manually moved back into place to camouflage the area.

She used the edge of the trowel to scrape away the natural debris. Quickly, it became obvious that the earth beneath the covering had been disturbed, for the hard surface was broken and powdery. Someone
had
been digging here quite recently. But for what purpose?

There was one way to find out.

She glanced up to see Lord Simon nearing the top of the hill. To pass the time until his return, she decided to scoop out soil from the area. Scraggly roots impeded her excavation, and for a few minutes she turned up nothing but pebbles and an occasional black beetle.