Scandalous (33 page)

“At that point, Miss Pennybaker came to and saw your father struggling to sit up, looking rather woozy and bleeding from his forehead. She rounded on the general like a tiger, telling him that he was arrogant and bellicose and, oh, I don't know what else. She said he should not have attacked your father, and the general, needless to say, felt somewhat wronged by this statement. She went over to help Florian up, and was holding her handkerchief to his head and asking if he was all right. That is when both the general and your father realized that she loved your father. So your father asked her to marry him, she said yes, and the general went off in a huff.”

“My,” Priscilla responded inadequately. “I can hardly believe it. I always suspected that Miss Pennybaker was half in love with Papa, but he never seemed to know she existed.”

“Apparently he discovered her.”

Priscilla chuckled. The vicar smiled back.

“Now, tell me—how are things going with that young man of yours?”

“We have been trying to prove that his father did not kill Rose Childs, but it has been very difficult. It was so
long ago. Ranleigh was talking about questioning Mr. Childs.”

“I wouldn't think Tom is very interested in answering any of the Duke's questions.”

“No. Although the Duke thinks that something new has turned up, something that might point to another man.”

“You know, I have been wondering something about that night. At first, like everyone else, I more or less assumed that the Marquess was guilty of it. It did not look good, especially after he ran away. But now, since he has come back, and you seem convinced that he really was somewhere else that night—”

“I am sure of it. I have the word of someone whom I trust implicitly. He was with…that person. He could not have been in Lady's Woods.”

“What I wonder is, where was Mr. Rutherford during that time that he said he was with Lynden?”

Priscilla simply stared at him. “What? What do you mean?”

“Well, Rutherford came forward and said that Lynden was with him, but obviously Lynden was not. He was with…this other person. So if Lynden was not with Rutherford, who was? And where was he?”

Priscilla blinked. “Yes, I see. Obviously, his alibi for Lynden was an alibi for himself, as well. If Lynden was not with him, then he did not really have an alibi.”

The vicar nodded.

“But, Vicar!” Priscilla breathed, aghast. “Surely you don't suspect Mr. Rutherford!”

The older man shrugged. “Frankly, I don't know who I suspect or don't suspect. Only God and the killer know for sure who he is. But now that you have convinced me
that the killer was not the Marquess, it makes me doubt all the notions I held as truth about the matter. One was that the young Mr. Rutherford was covering up for his friend. What if, in doing so, he was really covering up for himself? Mr. Rutherford would, after all, qualify as a ‘young gentleman.' To a naive young serving girl, he probably would have appeared wealthy. He was living at Ranleigh Court during the time of the affair and the murder. What if he knew that Lynden was out visiting this person whom he could not acknowledge he was seeing? And what if he realized that by giving Lynden an alibi, he was also guaranteeing that Lynden would alibi him, even though Lynden had no idea where his friend was at that time.”

Priscilla stared. “Reverend Whiting, I never realized that your mind could work in such a devious way!”

“Frankly, neither did I,” said a masculine voice from the doorway.

Both Priscilla and the vicar whirled around, startled. Sebastian Rutherford stood there, hat in hand, watching them.

P
RISCILLA BLUSHED BRIGHT RED.
Rutherford had obviously heard them speculating about the possibility that he could have been the murderer.

“Oh, dear,” the vicar commented weakly.

“Yes. Oh, dear.”

“I am terribly sorry that you heard that,” Priscilla began in embarrassment.

“I am sure you are.”

“I hope you won't be angry with us. We were simply trying to think of any and every possibility, you see.”

“No, I am not angry with you, my dear Miss Hamilton. I am merely regretful.” He raised his hand, which he had been holding by his side and slightly behind him, and pointed the pistol in it straight at Priscilla.

“Oh, dear, oh, dear,” the little vicar began to say in a breathy litany of fear. Priscilla merely felt cold all the way down to her toes.

“I didn't believe it,” she said in amazement. “Even after what the vicar said, I was so certain that it was wrong that all I felt was embarrassment when you came in and found us talking about it.”

“I am pleased to find that you hold me in such esteem. Unfortunately, I doubt that Bryan or Damon will be quite so reluctant to accept the possibility. Even before I overheard you and the reverend speaking, I saw how this
thing was going. I knew that once you started snooping around, checking out Evesham and talking to Rose's family, it would soon be the end of my masquerade. I tried to scare you off by encouraging Evesham to come home early, but it did not seem to deter you at all. Instead, you decided that you would talk to Rose's family! And they have whatever Damon was talking about yesterday. When he sees it, he is quite likely to realize to whom it belongs. I think it is best if I make my move before you and the vicar have the opportunity to talk to everyone about his little theory.”

“What do you plan to do?” Priscilla asked. “Kill us both to silence us? That is bound to cast suspicion on you. There must be someone who saw you riding over here or will see you riding away. It is broad daylight outside.”

“I realize that. But I don't plan to kill you. That is, unless I am forced to. I am afraid I am not very good at such things. I didn't even do a very good job the first time.”

“I don't know. You certainly managed to cast suspicion on the man who thought you were his friend,” Priscilla responded acidly.

“Do you think I intended to do that? I did not. I had no idea where Damon was or where he had been going all those nights. I had simply been glad he was gone, because it had allowed me to pursue my dalliance with Rose. It never occurred to me that he would be unable to tell where he was at the time Rose was killed. Well, frankly, I didn't think about it one way or another. I didn't intend to kill her. It just happened.”

“Is that what you are going to do now? Just let murder happen again?” Priscilla asked sarcastically.

“Priscilla,” the vicar murmured anxiously, “do not antagonize him.”

Rutherford's face darkened, and he started toward them, saying, “Yes, my dear, do not antagonize me. I might forget how much I detest bloodshed, if you push me.”

“You are quite brave when you are facing a woman—with a pistol in your hand.”

Rutherford's jaw tightened, and for an instant Priscilla thought he was going to break and fly into a rage. She braced herself, not sure what her needling would incite. But he visibly forced himself to calm down. In a level voice, he said, “Priscilla, come here.”

“No.” The frail vicar stepped in front of her. “I will not allow you to carry her off.”

“
You
are going to stop me?” Rutherford swept a scornful look over the small white-haired man.

“I am going to try. I will not let you take this young, innocent girl out and kill her—not as long as there is breath in my body.”

Rutherford sighed. “Don't force me to hurt you, Reverend. I am not going to kill Miss Hamilton, or even hurt her, no matter how annoying she can be. She is my asset, the chip that I will trade to the Aylesworths in return for my freedom.”

“What?” Priscilla looked at him, puzzled.

“I told you I saw the impossibility of remaining here. It is only a matter of time until all of you figure out the truth. Unfortunately, I haven't the means to leave the country. That is what I will get from Damon, and in return I will spare the life of the woman his son loves. I think he will make the trade.”

“You're joking. You threw suspicion of murder on
Ranleigh thirty years ago, so that he fled his home and country, and now you expect him to finance your flight from justice?”

“It will be a small price to pay, actually, for proving that Damon did not commit the murder. He might give me the money in return for that. But I would rather not count on it. Damon tends to hold a grudge. So I think it best that I give him more incentive, such as his son's future happiness.”

He moved toward them again. The vicar braced himself, lifting his fists in a move that would have been ludicrous, had it not been so touching. Priscilla put her hand on his arm.

“No, Reverend Whiting. Do not put yourself in harm's way on my account. I believe him. I don't think he means to kill me, merely to use me to get away himself.”

“Quite smart, Miss Hamilton. You obviously have a good head on your shoulders.”

“Besides, you must stay here to tell my father what happened.”

The vicar nodded. “You are right. I am a witness to what happened to you.” He fixed his gaze on Rutherford. “Everyone will know that you have her. I will make sure of that. If you hurt her, you won't stand a chance of getting away.”

Reluctantly he stepped aside, and Priscilla walked across the room to Rutherford. He took her elbow, placing the gun directly against her spine. “All right, Miss Hamilton. Let us go now.”

They took the vicar's small trap, which was sitting in front of the house. Rutherford tied his horse to the back of the trap and climbed into the small seat beside Priscilla. Priscilla drove, and he held the gun to her waist
the whole way, concealing it behind her back whenever they chanced to come upon anyone on the road.

Fear had left Priscilla sometime back in her father's house. She was certain that Rutherford would not harm her as long as he got what he wanted out of Ranleigh. But she burned inside with a determination to see that he would not get away with it. He had murdered that girl! Had seduced her and gotten her pregnant and then killed her when she confronted him with it. It made Priscilla see red just to think of it. As if that were not bad enough, he had implicated his own friend in the murder—no matter how much he protested that he had not intended for Damon to be blamed, the simple truth of the matter was that Damon
had
been blamed for it. The fact that he had given Damon an alibi did not relieve him of that guilt; it had been an alibi for himself, as well. Then he had lived among them all these years, accepting everyone's friendship and liking. He had fooled them all. He must have laughed at them secretly. He must have thought they were all fools for believing in him, trusting him, liking him—when all the time he was guilty of murder!

While Damon had been as good as exiled to another land, parted from the woman he loved…

Priscilla had to swallow back her rage. She could not let it cloud her thinking. She did not want this man to get away, and she must be clearheaded, so that she could seize whatever opportunity arose to escape from him.

Before long they pulled up in front of Ranleigh Court and got out of the trap. A groom ran to get the pony, and Priscilla walked to the front door with Rutherford following, carefully concealing his gun behind her. The footman who answered the door, used to seeing both
of them, ushered them in and showed them to the informal drawing room. It was only a few minutes before the Duke entered the room, saying jovially, “Sebastian! Priscilla, my dear. It is so nice to see you.”

He stopped short as the pair turned toward him. It was immediately apparent from their stiff demeanor that something was wrong. His eyes dropped to Priscilla's waist, and he saw the gun. His face seemed to age years in those seconds.

“So it
was
you.” He shook his head in a dazed way. “When Bryan told me his suspicions, I couldn't believe it.”

“Bryan knew?” Priscilla exclaimed in surprise.

Damon shook his head. “He didn't
know.
But he had suspicions. He was the only one who came into this from the outside, who didn't already have an opinion of Sebastian. He saw the holes, I guess, and he asked me questions that I could not ignore. I kept thinking about it. And then, Sebastian, you were a little clumsy about maneuvering us into going to Evesham's home. It made me wonder all the more. That is why I planted that seed yesterday, the little story about Rose having left something of her lover's behind.”

“What?” Rutherford looked stunned. “You mean, there isn't any memento?”

“I know of none. I just made it up. I wanted to see if you would react to it, if it would make you do anything. Unfortunately, it never occurred to me that you would react by seizing Miss Hamilton.” Damon sighed heavily. “Oh, God, Sebastian, why did you do this? I was always so certain that you were my friend.”

“I
was
your friend, Damon. You have to believe that. I never intended to hurt you. I didn't know it would
happen that way. I just—I saw Rose, and she was quite available, always flirting and smiling. It was obvious that she was experienced. Everyone acts as if she were some innocent child, but she knew what she was doing. I didn't realize that she would try to take advantage of the situation. When she told me that she was pregnant, I was flabbergasted. And she acted as if she expected me to marry her! A chambermaid! I assumed that she wanted money, but I hadn't much. You know the shape I was always in. I could barely stay in Oxford. I tried to give her what I had, but she was scornful of it. So I decided to take some jewels from your father's safe in the library. I had seen him open it. I knew where he kept the combination. It was dead easy. I grabbed the first thing I saw. I didn't know it was a special necklace, that everyone could identify it. I knew nothing about jewelry. I didn't even realize how valuable it was. It was wrong of me; I admit it. But, please, absolve me of malicious intent.”

“Lord, man, why are you worrying about your thievery?” Ranleigh asked, amazed. “You killed a girl!”

“I didn't mean to! I keep telling you—I didn't mean to do anything terrible. I just wanted to give her a piece of jewelry that would be worth enough to keep her quiet, to get her to leave me alone. But when I gave it to her that night, she had a fit. She was screaming and crying, saying I had to marry her, that she would tell your father and everyone else. We struggled, and somehow the necklace got broken. She kept going on and on about it, and how I had to marry her, and then…I don't know how it happened. I wanted her to shut up, and I put my hands on her neck, and I shook her. And the next thing
I knew, I was standing there, and she was lying on the ground. Dead. I didn't mean to.”

“Things like that tend to happen when you're squeezing someone by the throat,” Priscilla remarked dryly.

He jabbed her with the gun. “Keep quiet. I have no need for your opinion.” He looked back at Ranleigh, appealing to him. “I didn't dream that they would think you had done it! I didn't know the silly chit had told her family she was seeing a ‘gentleman.' Or that they would be able to trace those damn rubies back to your family. It all…just happened.”

Ranleigh nodded. “Things seem to do that with you.”

Rutherford nodded eagerly, not noticing the sarcasm in the Duke's voice. “It's true! I don't know why. But when I realized that they were trying to put the blame on you, I came forward and said you were with me. So they wouldn't arrest you.”

“And very conveniently providing an alibi for yourself, as well. One that I could not refute, if I wanted to save my own neck.” Ranleigh made a disgusted noise. “I cannot believe I was so completely taken in. I really believed that you were acting as a friend. It never occurred to me to wonder whether your lie covered up something you needed hidden, too.”

“I was thinking of you,” Rutherford insisted. “You can believe what you want, but I acted as a friend. I could not let them accuse you of murder. I needn't have done anything, you know. No one suspected me.”

“Yet. But what if the woman I had seen that night had come forward and revealed that I was with her and couldn't have committed the murders? Then what? They would have started looking around again. And how
many other ‘gentleman' would there have been around to lay the blame on? Evesham? Lord Chalcomb? You? The list is short.”

“I did it for you, damn you! Why do you persist in misjudging me?”

“Perhaps because I have already misjudged you so—in the opposite direction.” Damon sighed. “All right, Sebastian. I believe that you did not mean to harm me. But—” Ranleigh spread his hands in a gesture of appeal “—what are you hoping to accomplish now? Do you think that killing another young woman will make anyone go easier on you?”

“No. I don't plan to kill her—not unless you give me no other choice.”

“What can
I
do?”

“You know I'm not flush with money. I never have been. It has been easier, with that house your father gave me, but still, I haven't any money saved. And obviously I cannot stay here anymore. I have to get away—go to America, as you did. Or Australia. But I need money for that, for the ship fare and for getting started in a new land.”

“God forbid that you should have to work,” Priscilla put in scathingly, earning herself another jab in the back.

“Shut up, I said!”

“All right, Sebastian. I will give you money. Come into the library. It is where I keep it.”

He started out the door, and Rutherford propelled Priscilla after him, staying a cautious distance behind the Duke and keeping his gun pressed into Priscilla's ribs. Priscilla glanced around but could see nothing out
of place. Rutherford was twisting and turning nervously, checking out every nook and cranny.