The other man sighed and shook his head, beginning to calm down, beginning to think. One of the Captain’s main strengths was a cool head. “You are a fool. But I suppose now we’ll find out who else here is in Sir Henry’s little team. No doubt someone will be questioning us all in the morning.”
“Eversham” was Branson’s prompt reply. “He and Sir Henry are thick as thieves.”
“Well, we shall know soon enough. Now I’d better get back to the house in case they’re watching me. And don’t do anything else without consulting me first.”
He didn’t wait for Branson’s reply but strode off. As he neared the stables at the back of the hall, he began whistling nonchalantly, hands in his pockets, as if he’d been out for a pleasant afternoon stroll.
Branson was a complete fool, and he would no longer trust him. In fact he would never have
taken him on, but at the time the man’s disaffection with Sir Henry had made it expedient. And now what if Sir Henry died? There’d be hell to pay, but he’d make certain Branson was the one who hanged. It shouldn’t be too hard to point the finger in his direction.
For a moment he let his thoughts wander back, to Anthony Eversham’s face as he put the bullet into him. He gave a satisfied smile. Anthony had found out about him, but luckily he’d decided to keep his information to himself, play the lone hero. He’d nearly caught the Captain, but his luck had held.
It would hold this time. He wouldn’t believe otherwise. And if Anthony’s brother got too close; well, he’d go the same way.
Chapter 24
Tina felt as if she were at the center of a growing storm. Charles knew about their financial circumstances, Horace thought she was eager to be his mistress, and Richard Eversham was coming to her room tonight to talk to her.
She bit her lip on a hysterical giggle, hastily composing herself as she came under Maria’s suspicious gaze. Her maid knew there was something happening, but Tina had made certain she didn’t have a chance to question her by keeping her busy, or chattering nonsense whenever there was a silence.
She didn’t want to discuss any of it. In fact she didn’t even want to think about it.
Her evening dress was laid out. Rose silk, the color of freshly opened petals, with short sleeves ending in a flounce and a matching flounce on the bottom of the skirt. The décolletage was scooped quite low but made respectable by a smidgeon of white French lace. Maria fastened her corset and enveloped her in petticoats and then eased on the ball gown. Despite her day outdoors, Tina’s complexion was flawless, and her pale skin emphasized her green eyes and dark lashes. Once again, she wore the garnets about her throat and the matching earrings.
She felt buffeted by circumstance, no longer certain in which direction to turn. Which direction to run. Her husband-hunting plan with Horace had gone horribly wrong, and now she’d broken her parents’ confidence and told Charles the secret family shame, and he was so upset . . . Her breath caught, but she disguised her sudden emotion by reaching for her long evening gloves and drawing them smoothly on. Maria buttoned the tiny seed-pearl buttons and clipped a pearl bracelet about Tina’s wrist.
She glanced in the mirror again, feeling the cool air coming through the inch of open window, the scent of the garden and the river, the sounds of bird life settling down to sleep.
“Have you heard any more about Sir Henry?” she asked her maid. “It seems wrong to be going to a ball when he is in his bed and perhaps very ill.”
“Only that Lady Isabelle insists everything go ahead as planned and that Sir Henry would want it that way.”
Tina wondered if she would be that stoic if her husband were at death’s door. She couldn’t imagine it. But then she couldn’t imagine herself married, not now that Horace had proved to be such a disappointment.
“You look beautiful, Miss Tina.”
Maria was smiling at her from the candlelit shadows.
“Thank you, Maria.”
A moment later, she was descending the stairs to join the other guests. The ballroom was a vision, and she paused to take it in.
Flowers were displayed in huge vases along the walls; an abundance of roses, lavender and lilies perfumed the air with their fragrance. There were chairs around the sides of the room and several musicians on a platform at the far end. It was very elegant, not a hint that the master of the house lay upstairs, unconscious, perhaps dying, although perhaps it was that fact that gave the whole occasion a sense of frenetic energy.
Tina strongly felt as if she must seize her happiness with both hands and not let it slip away, that life was finite, and she might never have this chance again.
Once more Richard found himself standing in a crowded room, waiting for Tina. He nodded as Will detailed to him the security measures he had taken for Sir Henry, and he listened carefully and smiled as other guests spoke to him, but his mind was elsewhere. He was restless, looking up every few moments, incomplete.
Until she entered the room.
As if on cue the music started.
Richard moved toward her, determined to have the first dance, only to be thwarted by Lady Isabelle, who placed a large middle-aged man in Tina’s path. As he watched, there was some conversation, Tina smiled, and the two of them were off in a whirl of other couples.
He stood feeling ridiculously wretched.
Lady Isabelle observed the couple, a little smile playing about her mouth, and as she turned away, she noticed him.