Mandy

He couldn’t allow her to go forward with her threats. That was clear. He knew in that moment he would do anything to stop her from interfering with his future.

He found her alone, and she had started on him immediately.

She had turned into a shrew right before his eyes. Where had the lovely seductress gone? He certainly hadn’t meant to raise his hand…

But, she had infuriated him with her threats. He had to keep her from telling Amanda about their affair. She had laughed at him. She had said she would tell Amanda that he had been making delicious love to her even as he courted Amanda. He couldn’t allow that, could he? He hadn’t meant to…

Now however, he had to get away unseen.

He pulled at his beaver hat and hurried to his horse, tethered to a tree not far away, but scarcely visible in the deep of the dark woods.

He had enjoyed his single life and the truth was he was not ready to relinquish it, but he had played hard and fast and found himself at point non plus. He was left with scarcely a sou to his name and Celia would ruin everything if she turned Amanda against him.

He winced as he saw himself raising that hand to Celia…he had turned into a monster.

Desperation had made him think he must shut her up. It was all he had cared about at that moment. He couldn’t allow her to ruin everything he had accomplished with Amanda Sherborne.

The lovely heiress seemed flattered, amused, intrigued and a touch enchanted with his efforts. It was a start, a good start.

He got on his horse and started for the house, but a sound in the forest bordering the drive, made him turn and peer into its thick growth of trees. He saw the figure of a man weaving down a trail.

He waited, frowning, uncertain. He didn’t want to be seen coming away from where he had left Celia.

He stood for nearly five minutes before he made up his mind to continue up to the house and visit with Amanda.

He took up his horse’s reins and started for the drive when he heard a horrified male shout for help.

What the devil? That was Ned Sherborne’s voice. He was almost sure of it—so it had been Ned making his way through the woods?

Had Ned seen him with Celia…or coming away from her? The thought made him blanch and once again he tethered his horse before running toward the short path that would take him toward the sound of Ned’s voice.

The day was certainly growing dimmer, but it was a clear summer evening and not yet dark. He saw Ned visibly distressed not more than twenty feet ahead and said, “Ho there, Sherborne…what is toward?” But the lad couldn’t speak, only point for he was standing over a very still young woman’s body.

It was Celia.

Her lovely form fitted yellow muslin gown was bright against the green grass. Ned’s face held a grim look of disbelief, as he seemed to find his voice and stammer, “‘Tis Celia…she has been strangled.”

Sir Owen put the distance between him and the woman on the ground away with long hard strides. He bent and surveyed Celia’s still form, before he released a long breath and said grimly, “Indeed…my word…one can see the mark from a pair of strong large hands…” Sir Owen’s voice trailed off.

Ned shook his head, “Strong hands? But who…who would do such a horrible thing?” He ran a hand through his uncovered blond hair and nearly sobbed, “Oh my God. Dead. But why? Who would even have known she was going to be here? I was late getting to her as I thought she meant the other larger pond, went there first. I don’t understand any of this. It doesn’t make sense.”

Sir Owen did a quick scan of the surroundings and returned his attention to Celia’s lifeless form. He frowned and asked Ned, “May I ask, Lord Sherborne, was this statue in its present form when you first arrived on the scene?”

“Statue?” Ned asked absently, his eyes still staring at Celia with disbelief. “No, no, when I saw her lying there…I knocked it over in my haste to get to her.”

“Then, Miss Brinley was already…lying there when you first arrived?” Sir Owen asked, still frowning.

“Yes—of course. What kind of a question is that? Do you think I would not have stopped whoever was…?”

“May I ask why you happen to

be here?” Sir Owen cut him off.

“If you must know, I had an assignation with Celia for seven this evening. I was late. If I had been on time…I could have saved her.”

“What I would like to know is why she asked you here…when I too was sent a missive to meet her.”

“Why are you standing here asking insane questions? Blister it, Owen! Someone has strangled Celia!” Ned thundered beside himself with disbelief.