Midsummer Magic (Magic Trilogy 1)

She felt a strange sort of relief, and her eyes met her husband’s. She saw pain there, and felt immense sorrow that it had ended this way.

Beatrice said sharply, “I don’t understand any of this! Why is his lordship calling him Starfire? Really, Philip—”

Hawk turned very slowly to face his sister. “Bea,” he said very gently, “I fear that our brother was involved in stealing horses—foals bred from racers.”

“That is absurd, ridiculous! Has she been filling your ears with that ... drivel?”

“I fear it isn’t drivel, Bea. We should probably have figured it out much sooner, what with no bills of sale and Belvis’ memory that Flying Davie’s supposed dam had died a year before he was foaled. I’m sorry, Bea, but Edmund had perforce to be involved with Nevil in this. Lord Dempsey as well. As to the others, we do not know.”

The marquess said, “It was clever of them, very clever. Who would ever suspect such a respected stable as Desborough of being involved in such a scheme?”

He added after a moment, his voice trembling just a bit, “It also appears, my dear, that your brother was likely murdered by his accomplices.”

Beatrice’s anger turned to panic. “No! Not Edmund! No!”

Frances thought Beatrice would faint. Her face was perfectly white, her hand clutching her father’s sleeve.

“The accidents started after Hawk refused to sell to Edmund,” Frances said, feeling very sorry for her sister-in-law. “Don’t you see, Bea? If Hawk had sold all the Desborough stock to Edmund, no one would have ever discovered the truth. Because Flying Davie’s markings are so distinctive, he would probably have been shipped to America and sold for a princely sum. As for the others, and we don’t know how many are involved, Edmund probably could have raced them without fear of their being recognized by their real owners.”

“Your logic is inescapable, Frances,” said a soft voice from behind them.

“Edmund!” Beatrice shrieked, whirling about. “Tell them it isn’t true, tell them—”

“I cannot, my dear. It is true, you see.” Edmund’s pistol was trained on Beatrice’s breast. None of the men moved. He continued to Hawk, his voice emotionless, “You have the luck of the devil, Hawk. I was most distraught when I learned Frances rode Tamerlane and not Flying Davie that morning. Then, of course, the damned horse should have been killed in the fire at Grantham.”

“It is no use, Edmund,” Hawk said.

“Unfortunately I must agree with you. However, I have no intention of fleeing the country without some ... security. You have too many fighting friends, Hawk, and I know they would search me out. I intend to ensure that they don’t. Come here, my dear Beatrice. Now.”

“You damned bastard!” the marquess shouted. “Don’t you dare—”

“Shut up, old man!”

“Edmund,” Hawk said very quietly, “why did you kill Nevil?”

“I will tell you, Hawk,” Edmund Lacy said, his eyes narrowing. “Your brother was greedy, then a weak fool. We were making plans that week on his yacht, great plans, but Nevil was frightened. He wanted out. He was in his cups, incidentally, and Dempsey, well ... he—”

“Nevil was a fool,” said Lord Dempsey, coming into the stable, a deadly pistol in his hand. “I merely helped him over the railing. He was too drunk to save himself.

“You filthy bastard!” the marquess thundered, and stepped toward Dempsey. “You murdered my son!”

“Don’t, Father,” Hawk said, putting a restraining hand on his father’s shoulder.

“Now, as I was saying,” Edmund continued, “I have need of you, Beatrice.”

“You bloody coves!” Mr. Uckley exclaimed in frustrated fury. He forced himself to be calm. “You’ll never escape with the lady. Best give it up now.”

“I was right about Hawk’s women,” said Lord Dempsey, his eyes traveling from Frances’ face to the tips of her slippers. “I’ll bring her also.”

“You touch her,” Hawk said very softly, “and I’ll kill you myself, very slowly and with great enjoyment.”

Lord Dempsey laughed. “You won’t do a damned thing, my lord! And if you’re stupid enough to try, I’ll kill her.”

Frances edged closer to her husband.

“I don’t suppose we can do away with all of them, eh?” Lord Dempsey said to Edmund, disappointment in his voice.

“Don’t be a fool,” Edmund snapped. “Leave Frances be. We require only Beatrice.”