The Taming of Ryder Cavanaugh (The Cynster Sisters Duo 2)

Ryder sat back. “I’ll support whatever decision you make, as long as it will keep me and mine safe from her and her plotting.”

“That goes without saying.” Randolph looked into his glass, swirling the liquid. “I understand now why you insisted we had to hear it from her.” Abruptly, he drained the glass; lowering it, he admitted, “If you’d told me that—even if I’d heard it from those men without her sitting there, listening and not reacting, and then not denying it—I honestly don’t think I would truly have believed—”

A scream cut off his words. They all looked up in time to see a shape fall past the windows.

“Oh, no!” Hands to her face, Stacie shot to her feet.

Everyone else did, too. Mary held Stacie back, let the men rush ahead, Randolph and Kit in the lead, Godfrey close behind. Pausing in the doorway, Ryder glanced back and saw Mary following more slowly with Stacie; he met her eyes, briefly nodded, then went ahea

d.

By the time Mary and Stacie reached the front steps, Randolph and Kit had covered their mother’s body with their coats.

Mary was grateful; she’d had more than enough shocks for one day, and she knew Stacie was at the end of her reserves. She and her brothers had had to face more in a few hours than anyone ever should have to endure.

Ryder came to Stacie’s other side and helped her down the steps.

The three of them drew nearer but halted when Stacie’s faltering feet did not seem to want to go further.

Her brothers saw her standing there, trembling in Mary’s arms, Ryder’s arm around her shoulders, and one by one they left their mother’s body and joined them—the living.

Mary and Ryder surrendered Stacie into Kit’s arms.

Randolph came to stand beside Ryder, his face a mask of shock. “Did she jump, do you think, or did she fall while trying to escape?”

Ryder hesitated, then said, “I can’t imagine her even contemplating suicide, can you?”

One after another, they shook their heads.

“In that case,” Ryder said, “as we’re all agreed, I can declare her death an accident.”

“She would have wanted that—it will gain her some sympathy. It was always about her.” Randolph glanced back at the shrouded body lying on the gravel. “It was always all about her.”

Mary let a moment of silence pass, then briskly stated, “Very well. Now that’s been decided, let’s go back inside. We have orders to give, and then all of you are coming home with us to the abbey.”

She’d used her marchioness’s voice and was entirely unsurprised that no one argued.

Dawn was painting its first pale streaks across the eastern sky when Ryder followed Mary into their bedroom.

Mary heaved a gigantic sigh. “Finally, it’s over.”

They’d spent the last hours sorting everyone and everything out as well as they could. Rand, Kit, Stacie, and Godfrey had been gathered in by the abbey staff, led by Mary herself. As Ryder’s half siblings often visited, they had their own rooms; wrung out, they’d retired as soon as their quarters had been made ready. “I just hope,” he said, “that the others can sleep.”

“Hmm.” Mary glanced at him. “Do you foresee any difficulties with the two stable hands over Snickert’s death?”

He shook his head. “Lavinia, through Snickert, had offered them a small fortune to help him do away with us—they know how close to the gallows they stand.” He hesitated, then admitted, “If Lavinia hadn’t died, then Snickert’s death would pose more of a problem, but as she has, and the stable hands know that, then . . .” He exhaled. “I think—hope—that this will blow over without anything that might damage the others socially coming out.”

“How much detail do you need to give of the manner of Lavinia’s death?”

“Officially, not much—just that she died of an accident. Death through misadventure, which is true enough. Given the staff at the Dower House rallied around, and will deal with the body and the undertakers tomorrow—no, today—other than organizing the funeral itself, there’s very little more that needs to be done to set this matter to rest.”

“To lay Lavinia to rest, and free her children.”

“That, too.” Looping an arm about Mary’s waist, Ryder drew her with him to the window.

They stood there, leaning against each other, watching the dawn break across the sky.

Eventually, Mary stirred. “A new dawn—a new beginning.”