The Heiress Bride (Sherbrooke Brides 3)

“I know,” he said quietly. “I know. If only we’d been just a few moments sooner, perhaps—”

Douglas rose and strode to the fireplace. He stood there, leaning against it, a cup of hastily prepared coffee in his hand. “No, she didn’t kill herself. I’m positive of that. You see, I untied the knot that was at the base of the chandelier. She simply wouldn’t have had the strength or the ability to fashion such a knot.”

“Shouldn’t we have Ostle fetch the magistrate?” Sinjun asked her husband.

“I am the magistrate. I agree with Douglas. I have only one question for you, Joan. How did you know to wake up and go to her room?”

“Pearlin’ Jane woke me. She told me to hurry to Aunt Arleth’s room. We went immediately, Colin, there was no hesitation. I wonder why she waited so long. Perhaps she didn’t realize Aunt Arleth wouldn’t survive, or perhaps she didn’t want her to live; she wanted her punished for what she did to Fiona and to you, Colin, and to me. How can we possibly understand a ghost’s motives?”

Douglas shoved away from the fireplace, his face red. “Dammit, Sinjun, enough of this bloody damned ghost talk! I won’t have it, not here. At home I have to bear it because it’s a damned tradition, but not. here!”

On and on it went. Sinjun was so tired, so shocked into her tiredness that she simply sat there, listening but not really hearing everyone as they voiced their opinions. And being Sherbrookes and wives of Sherbrookes, they all had opinions and all their opinions were contrary to one another’s.

At one point Sophie shuddered and stepped quickly back, bumping into a chair. Ryder, frowning, immediately went to her and brought her into the circle of his arms. He leaned down, pressing his forehead against his wife’s. “It’s all right, Sophie. Tell me what’s wrong, love.”

“The violence, Ryder, the horrible violence, the pain. It just brought it all back to me, all of Jamaica. I hate the memories, dear God how I hate them.”

“I know, sweetheart. I’m sorry about this, but you’re with me and you will remain with me and no one will ever hurt you again, ever. Forget your damned uncle, forget Jamaica.” He rubbed her back, rocked her gently against him.

Douglas said, “Why don’t you take Sophie to bed, Ryder. She’s had quite enough. She looks as fatigued as the rest of us doubtless feel.”

Ryder gave his brother a nod.

Some five minutes later, at four o’clock in the morning, Colin said, “Douglas is right. Everyone is exhausted. Enough for tonight. We will speak of this again tomorrow.”

He held Sinjun close, his arms locked around her back, his face pressed against her temple.

“Who killed her, Colin?”

He felt her warm breath against his throat. “I don’t know,” he said, “blessed hell, I don’t know. Maybe she was an accomplice in Fiona’s death, just maybe . . . I don’t know. Jesus, what a night. Let’s get some rest.”

The next morning there was surprisingly little conversation at the breakfast table. Colin had told Dulcie to keep Philip and Dahling with her as he wanted no horrific tales spun in front of their young faces.

Still, there wasn’t much more to say.

Serena said nothing at all. She ate her porridge, chewed slowly, even nodded occasionally whilst she chewed, as if she were carrying on a private conversation with herself, which, Sinjun thought, she probably was. She would never understand

Serena; she wondered if Serena understood herself.

As if at long last, Serena became aware that Sinjun was looking at her. She said, her voice as calm and serene as a warm starlit night, “A pity it wasn’t you, Joan. Then Colin would have all your money and me. Yes, a pity. I like you, naturally, it’s difficult not to. But it’s still a pity.” With those words that made Sinjun’s blood freeze in her veins, Serena merely smiled at everyone and left the Laird’s Inbetween Room.

“She’s frightening,” Sophie said, and shuddered.

“I think she’s all talk,” Alex said. “And I think she speaks that way for effect. She loves to shock. Sinjun, pull yourself together. It was just words, nothing more.”.

Colin sad, “I will see that Serena returns to Edinburgh as soon as may be. In fact, it might be best if I sent Ostle with a message to Robert MacPherson. He could come for her himself. There’s no reason to wait.”

Robert MacPherson did come to Vere Castle, and with him were half a dozen of his men, all armed to the teeth.

“You’ll notice Alfie isn’t among my men. I hanged him for killing Dingle.”

He dismounted, waved his men to do the same, and entered the castle, careful that the great doors remained open. “There is much improvement,” he said, then nodded to Sinjun. “You’re quite the housekeeper, aren’t you?”

“Oh yes,” she said, wondering why she hadn’t shot him when she’d had the chance. She didn’t trust him an inch, this pretty man with his evil heart.

“I will take Serena to Edinburgh now. I did promise you that I’d speak to my father, though I warn you, Colin, he’s not as he should be in his mental parts.”

“He was all that he should be when I last saw him,” Colin said. “If you simply told me who it was who claimed I killed your sister, we would both save ourselves a lot of time.”