Jo Goodman (39 page)

The solicitor's mouth flattened. "Certainly," he said coolly. "I would have hardly presented this to the family without verifying it. I spent no small amount of time or money in locating the witnesses. I am able to say unequivocally that I consider them to be reliable."

"Their names?" Patterson asked.

"Ashbrook and Deakins."

Mercedes had turned to watch Colin's reaction. Recognition of the names was in the faint narrowing of his eyes and nowhere else. If she hadn't been looking, she would have missed it.

"You'll have addresses," the sheriff said to Gordon.

"Of course, though I must say I don't know why you require them. I can assure you—"

Mercedes interrupted. "No one is doubting that you've conducted this all quite professionally," she said. "But there are some questions surrounding my uncle's death that require answering. I believe Mr. Patterson would find it helpful to speak to Mr. Ashbrook and Mr. Deakins." She indicated the sheriff with a gentle nod of her head. "And if you can confirm to your satisfaction, Mr. Patterson, that my uncle was indeed alive five days ago, then you no longer have any cause to suspect Captain Thorne of wrongdoing. His whereabouts in that forty-eight hour period can be accounted for with complete assurance."

Mercedes stood. As she did, the men also came to their feet. Though she did not look in his direction, Mercedes was only aware of the towering presence of Colin Thorne. "I am speaking of the entire forty-eight hours," she told Patterson pointedly. "Day
and
night."

Leaving them to make of it what they would, careless of her own reputation, Mercedes swept from the room.

* * *

Colin had to wait until Patterson, Abernathy, and Gordon had all departed and Chloe, Sylvia, and the twins had gone to bed.

After her announcement in the library, Mercedes had retired to her room and made herself unavailable to anyone save the maid who took her meals. He had placed a note on her luncheon tray, but when it went unanswered, he did not try again.

Colin was conscious that the north wing was occupied by more than just Mercedes when he knocked on her door. He was careful to keep his voice low.

"I know you can hear me, Mercedes," he said. "I don't believe for a moment that you're already asleep." He could hear her moving around the room but she didn't respond. "I won't talk to you through this door much longer. And that doesn't mean I intend to give up, lest you miss my point."

"Don't you dare threaten me," she whispered harshly.

Colin's palm lay flat against the door. He could feel it vibrate as she braced her shoulder to the other side. "Open up or move aside."

"Go to hell."

He smiled. She definitely sounded as if she meant it. "Very well. But remember, I gave you a choice."

Mercedes didn't believe he'd do it, not at the risk of waking her cousins. Still, she laid her back fully against the recessed door panel, dug in her heels as best she could, and braced herself for the first shock of Colin's body slamming against the wood.

Colin took a key from his inside vest pocket and inserted it. He gave the door handle a quick twist and pushed. Mercedes's bare heels bounced and slid along the hardwood floor as he overcame her resistance.

She gave up, removing herself so suddenly that Colin would have fallen into the room if he hadn't been expecting it. She turned on him angrily. "You had a key!" she said accusingly.

He made a point of dangling it in front of her before he dropped it back in his pocket. He asked pleasantly, "Did you think I would break down the door?"

Mercedes glared at him. It was precisely what he had wanted her to think. She cinched the belt of her robe tighter. Her unbound hair had fallen forward over her shoulders. She pulled it to one side and made a thick plait with nimble fingers, binding it and tossing it behind her back. "What do you want?" she asked with ill-grace.

"Do you doubt I mean to talk to you?" he asked. She gave him a sour look. "The trouble is," he went on, "you've been avoiding me."

"I wanted to speak to you on any number of occasions these past three days. I believe you're the one who's been avoiding." Mercedes turned away from him and walked to her nightstand where she picked up the book she had been reading. She did not know he had followed her until she felt his hand on her shoulder. Spinning around, Mercedes jammed the hard edge of the leather-bound volume into Colin's gut.

Surprise made him take a step back. He released her shoulder, grunting as she came at him again, jabbing harder this time, all her angry energy bound up in every thrust. "Leave—my—room—now," she bit out, each pause punctuated by another jab.

Colin sucked in his breath, bent in the middle, and was able to avoid her last ram. He grasped her wrists, held them tight, and managed to make her drop the book. It thudded to the floor between them. Colin kicked it aside and it skidded under her bed. "If you're quite through with your temper tantrum," he said softly, "I'll let you go."

Angry for being named a child, she behaved as a child, struggling to pull away from him even when she knew his superior strength would hold her fast.

"Mercedes," he said softly. "Talk to me."

"I hate you."

He nodded. "In your place..."

"You thought I deliberately set out to frame you. Admit it," she challenged him, her voice rising. "You thought it was a plan to get rid of you."

"You said as much yourself once," he reminded her. "You plotted with Marcus before looking for a way to be rid of me."

Mercedes stamped her bare foot in frustration that her earlier lies had come back to thwart the truth now. "Believe what you will," she said coldly. "I want no part of you any—"

Colin gave her a small shake. "Have a care, Mercedes, you'll wake your cousins."

"I don't care," she said recklessly. "How long do you think it will be before they learn I've been your whore?" She saw him recoil at this description of herself and by implication, of what had passed between them. "Unless you're telling me that those gathered in the library mistook my meaning?"

Colin let her wrists fall. It was not a surrender on his part. It freed up his hands to throttle her. He raked back his bright hair and shook his head. "I don't believe anyone misunderstood you. I also believe it will be kept confidential. There's nothing to be gained through repetition. Mr. Abernathy and Mr. Gordon would choke on the words before they'd say them aloud. If your cousins and the staff are alerted to our—" He paused, seeking the right word. "Our
relationship,
then it's because you acted the town crier a moment ago." He gave her time to let that sink in. If she was chastened, she made a good show of hiding it.

Mercedes's expression was unrepentant. "I suppose you have some place in mind where we can talk," she said.

"My room."

"Now
there's
a surprise."

"Do you have another idea?"

"Downstairs," she said. "Anywhere will do."

"Very well, the forward turret."

At another time she might have smiled at his use of a ship position to describe the location of the north tower room. "I said belowstairs."

"And I believe we can be certain of no interruptions and have no fear of being overheard in the tower room." His choice surprised her. She would have preferred the more formal surroundings of the library or the stately appointments of the gallery. Even the conservatory would have been preferable with its flowers and greenery to the familiar setting of her childhood fantasies. "You recall it's not furnished," she reminded him.

"You have some objection?"

"No. That's fine." Better, in fact, she thought. She would not have to concern herself with fending off a seduction. The most she would have to worry about was being tossed out a window.

Colin caught the small smile that momentarily changed the shape of her mouth. "Something amuses you?"

"It was nothing." She brushed past him and stepped into her slippers. Curiosity won out. Mercedes glanced over her shoulder and asked, "If it's a woman who falls out of the crow's nest, do you still cry man overboard?"

"Yes," he said. Colin opened the door for her. "And, Mercedes, you really shouldn't tempt me."

Mercedes had a sense of peacefulness the moment she came upon the northern turret. Holding an oil lamp aloft, she entered her childhood sanctuary almost eagerly and quickly climbed the steep and narrow spiral of stairs to the small room. When she reached the top she discovered there was no need for the lamp. The full moon was bright enough to cast her shadow and illuminate the panoramic landscape of Weybourne Park.

Mercedes extinguished her light. Colin, who was still at the bottom of the stairs, complained about the sudden darkness but Mercedes barely heard it. She turned slowly, taking in the scene from each of the tower windows as if she were studying paintings in a gallery. The meadow and pond, the gardens, the woods, the fields, the distant cottages, all of it was opened to her in a single, breathtaking glance.

When she completed her rotation she came face to face with Colin. He was standing almost at the top of the stairs, his features without expression, his body still, and she knew that his eyes had never once strayed to the windows. He had been watching her.

Uncomfortable with his silent scrutiny, resentful of his intrusion, and irritated with herself for forgetting—if even for only a few moments—why she had come to this room, Mercedes felt her hackles rise. Her tone was immediately impatient. "Say what you think you must."

Colin took the next step and immediately towered over her. He gave her full marks for not backing away. "I'll take that," he said, reaching for the extinguished oil lamp. "Before you drop it." The lamp's slight bobble was the only visible indication that her nerves were stretched taut.

Mercedes didn't try to hold on to it. When he turned away to set it on one of the narrow window ledges, she backed up the few steps necessary to give her breathing room.

"Do you regret agreeing to come here?" he asked, facing her again. Colin noticed the distance between them had suddenly increased but he was wise enough not to mention it. "With me?"

"No." She wondered if he could see through her lie. "But I would prefer that you come to the point. My feelings are of no consequence one way or the other."

"Then we're agreed on that," he said, watching her carefully. Colin could see that she was put off balance by his lack of protest. He crossed the small room and stood in front of one of the large windows, his back to Mercedes. He stared out for a long time, letting silence further erode her fragile wall of composure. "I think you better start with the flask," he said finally. "Why did you tell Patterson and Thayer that it belonged to your uncle?"

Mercedes's arms hung at her sides. It was an effort not to cross them in front of her defensively. "Not for the reasons you apparently thought," she said coolly. "It was never my intention to make it seem you had something to do with his death. Quite the opposite, in fact."

Colin turned, his eyes narrowing slightly. He said nothing, but he could see Mercedes felt the full burden of his suspicions. Her shoulders stiffened, bracing to accept the weight.

"Didn't it occur to you that if you admitted the flask was yours, you would
then
be implicated?"

"No," he said. "It didn't. And do you know why?" He paused a beat though the question was strictly rhetorical. "Because
I
wasn't the last person to have that flask in my possession. I wouldn't have necessarily gone to the lengths you did to protect poor Mr. Thayer, but neither would I have given him up to the sheriff without talking to him first."

Mercedes blinked. "Mr. Thayer?" she said softly, bewildered by Colin's conclusion. "What has he to do—"

"I can appreciate," Colin went on, "that when the flask was presented to you, you saw an opportunity to be rid of your uncle. You already knew he had left the country, but you were probably sworn not to tell anyone. By identifying the flask as Weybourne's you as good as identified the body. You certainly satisfied Patterson. And as a result of Weybourne's declared death you were able to have his will read. You were probably the only person today who
wasn't
surprised to hear your uncle had written new instructions. I can imagine that you struck a hard bargain with him, Mercedes."

She shook her head, slightly dazed by Colin's construction of the events. "I don't know what you mean."

"Please. Do you take me for such a fool? You paid him off with my money. Ashbrook and Deakins, remember? The only thing I don't know is the identity of the man Mr. Thayer murdered. I saw the body, Mercedes. Those charred remains could be anyone. Anyone, that is, except your uncle. I'm quite confident he's enjoying himself immensely somewhere at my expense."

Mercedes was sorry she had not insisted upon another setting for this confrontation. Any room with chairs would have done. She was feeling a strong need to hit him over the head with one. "You've worked this all out by yourself," she said with a touch of irony. "Of course you have. You wouldn't speak to me these past few days. And why bother? I couldn't possibly have an explanation that would be at odds with yours. Frankly, I'm surprised you've decided to speak to me at all. I'm finding it harder and harder to believe you might be willing to entertain another scenario."