The Nightingale Legacy (Legacy 2)

“Fer nuthin’, that’s fer wot,” another man said. Caroline recognized the man who served ale in Mrs. Freely’s taproom in Goonbell. “Miss Meg don’t like this, I’ll tell ye that. Who’s killing our women?”

North gently laid Mrs. Pelforth in the back of the wagon and covered her with a wool blanket. She’d been a pretty woman, no older than thirty-five, he thought, her air sprightly, her eyes a deep blue and very calm. Her husband had been a draper in Trevellas; she’d been a widow for some years, her children grown, alone save for servants. He’d known her to say polite hellos, nothing more. He had no idea if his father had known her or her husband. And now she was dead, murdered, just like Eleanor Penrose. Jesus, what was going on here?

“Well-liked were Nora,” the miner said, and spat into the sharp wind rising from the north. “Niver ’ad ’er nose stuck in the air. Who kilt her? My lord,” he continued, turning to North, “ye be the magistrate. Wot will ye do?”

&n

bsp; North realized it was one of his miners from Wheal David, a man named Pillet. “All I can, Pillet, all I can. If any of you can tell me anything, please come to Mount Hawke.” He turned to Owen. “See where Bennett Penrose is.”

Owen nodded and slipped away.

The men spoke among themselves, shook their heads, and broke apart, heading to their homes.

It was near to midnight before North and Caroline walked into his bedchamber. He nearly tripped, looked down at the stool sitting in his path, kicked it out of the way, and said, “I wonder if Tregeagle put this stool here. Maybe so. Maybe he hoped you’d trip over it and break your beautiful neck, the damned bugger.”

He stopped, listening to the deep, booming twelve strokes from the huge clock in the entrance hall, a monstrosity one of his distant ancestors had commissioned by a clockmaker in Brussels more years ago than he wanted to calculate. The damned thing didn’t give up. At least two hundred years old and it wouldn’t break down so it could be thrown in the kitchen midden.

“What are you thinking, North?”

“What? Oh, I was just listening to that bloody clock. It’s always had the strangest sound to it.”

“Yes, you’re right. It sounds like a person with a very gravelly voice who’s shouting but doesn’t really want anyone to hear him.”

“The way you think pleases me. I wish you hadn’t come with me, Caroline.”

“I had to. I just wish I understood any of this.”

North walked to the fireplace, knelt, and lit the fire. He didn’t rise, just turned on his heel to face her. “I sent Owen to check Bennett’s whereabouts. He’s probably gone now, but who knows? We know he didn’t kill your aunt, but maybe, just maybe, he killed Mrs. Pelforth.”

“But why would he?”

“God knows. Perhaps she was giving him money. Perhaps he was her lover and she got tired of him or he got tired of her, what with his new windfall. In any case, we’ll know about Bennett in the morning. Now, Caroline, it’s gotten chilly. Do you want to stay in this bedchamber tonight?”

“It depends on where you will sleep. I only want to be with you.”

He rose, walked to her, and clasped her face between his big hands. “Besides liking your mind, I also like you, Caroline Nightingale. You’re a good sort.”

And he began to kiss her. She’d believed herself beyond exhaustion, so tired she’d been leaning against the bedpost. But her weariness fell away from her like a bad dream. She felt energy bubbling up within her, buoying her up as high as the clouds, making her want to dance and kiss him until he moaned with the pleasure of it.

He turned her around, lifted her hair, and bent down to nibble and kiss and lick her neck and her ears. “Very nice, wife, quite nice, in fact.” She jumped when his tongue lightly stroked her ear.

“I want to see you,” she said, twisting back around to face him. “All of you, please.”

He cocked a dark eyebrow. “You want me naked again? At your mercy? Like last night?”

She gave him a solemn nod. “I think it’s good for me, not so overwhelming. Yes, let’s go slowly so I won’t be nervous and perhaps flee the bedchamber in terror. There’s quite a lot of you, North, and even though you are splendid, you are nonetheless very different from me.”

He patted her face, stepped back, and within three minutes he was naked and grinning at her. He flung his arms back. “Take me, Caroline. What would you have me do to please you?”

Her eyes were nearly crossed with anticipation and excitement. Her fingers itched to touch him. “Lie on the bed, North, on your back, please.”

When he was sprawled in the middle of the huge bed, he said, “Do you want to tie my arms to the headboard?”

She cocked her head to one side in question. “Why ever for?”

He laughed at her, and she knew it was at her innocence. “So you can have complete control of me. So I can’t suddenly fling you on your back and take over and overwhelm you, overpower you with my manly strength, and frighten you. I am stronger than you, you know, and as a man, I can be overcome with lust.”

“So can I,” she said. “I don’t know about this, North. It sounds strange to me, perhaps something a new bride shouldn’t consider doing. Perhaps it isn’t all that discreet or modest or even chaste. Where are your cravats?”