Chapter 3 #2
“I was with my mother when she said her final words. I pointed out that despite her Machiavellian methods, the heir had been found and I would not inherit. She … her last words … She implied that she had taken steps to prevent that.”
Miss Carter leaned forward into Marco’s peripheral vision, her pretty face worried.
“You mean that she might have had someone else coerced into assisting her?” Her hazel eyes flickered to the window, her expression bemused as she stared at her companion outside, who was clasping herself in a tight embrace in an effort to retain her body heat.
The baron cleared his throat, taking some time before speaking.
“We had hoped it was over, but the incident with the carriage suggests we must take precautions. In the event that Isla, Lady Blackwood, had another accomplice to ensure that Marco, or Angelo who is next in line, should never live to inherit.”
“You are suggesting that someone tried to kill us this morning?”
“Yes, and another attempt might be made. It is why we apprised you of the facts. We nearly lost Madeline because of our lack of caution, and we will not allow any further misadventure. It could be an accident, or it could be …”
The towering duke exhaled heavily, then declared what they were all thinking.
“An attempt upon your lives.” He shook his head.
“I could have lost my brother without even knowing he had returned home. It seems fantastical that someone would risk killing four people, along with the coachman and footmen, merely to target two in the vehicle. Surely, it must have been an accident?”
Simon shook his head. “We must assume the worst. It is the safest course. Which is why I intend to remove my bride to Scotland in the morning. We shall visit my new estates to ensure she is out of harm’s way.
My mother was quite obsessed with severing my connection with Madeline, and after nearly losing her, I will not risk it.
I am afraid I cannot assist in sorting this out.
We were to share dinner here this evening, but she cannot set foot in this house if there is even a possibility of harm befalling her. ”
Struggling to his feet, the baron patted his brother on the back. “Agreed. Considering Isla’s obsession with bloodlines, Simon must see to Madeline’s safety, and we shall put our heads together to resolve this matter.”
Marco rose to his feet, walking back to the other side of the room with a subtle motion for Angelo to join him.
“What the hell have we stepped into here?” he muttered under his breath.
Angelo rubbed his face, his expression solemn as he sought an answer.
“It could be no more than an accident. After such events … perhaps they are seeing shadows where there are none. What reason would an accomplice have to continue this madwoman’s quest after she is gone? I understand their … attenzione?”
Marco struggled to think of the English word, his thoughts swirling in his head. They had known that something odd had happened, and that the dowager baroness was dead, but this was a hornet’s nest. “Caution.”
Angelo nodded. “I understand their caution, but perhaps it is nothing.”
“Will this delay my return to Florence?”
His brother shook his head in good-natured rebuke, his usual spirits restored in an instant. “We have only just arrived. Give England a chance. I wish to see more of it. Discover if a pharmacy is needed here. How are your ribs?”
Marco chuckled, his mood lightened as he rubbed his aching chest. “They are much better. You are determined to bring Florentine medicine to the world.”
Shrugging, his brother grinned. “It is the best, and I could find my own place in this world doing something that is of consequence.”
Reaching an agreement, they returned to their seats.
Lord Saunton offered a sympathetic smile. “It is a great deal to absorb. We apologize for greeting you with such grim tidings.”
“I do not know what all of this means. We thought we would settle matters with the baron about how to handle the title now that Lord Filminster’s murder had been resolved, but I suppose we must address this first. How do we even proceed?”
Simon leaned over the desk, pushing a pile of notebooks forward.
“These are my mother’s journals. I read them once to uncover the truth of what happened, but I was not looking for an accomplice.
Perhaps there is a clue in there somewhere, but if I am leaving, who is to read them?
It shall need to be someone who knows the persons and circumstances she is referencing and our family tree. However, they are … deeply unpleasant.”
“I shall do it,” said Miss Carter in a brisk tone, though her face showed some reticence to the notion, and Marco found himself impressed at her resilient offer to read the ravings of a homicidal lunatic despite her misgivings.
“I appreciate that, Molly, I do. But this is not appropriate reading for an unmarried woman.”
The baron coughed into a handkerchief. “I think it is important that you take Madeline away after all she has endured. Her poisoning was more violent than my own, and she plays no role in this, so I shall read the journals.”
“No!” The taciturn one, Nicholas, rose from his seat to limp forward.
Reaching the desk, he picked up the journals to tuck them under his arm.
“Simon has done enough, and you are recovering your health. This is my task to complete because she was my mother and … I have shirked my duty too long. This will be my contribution.”
Simon contemplated his younger brother for several seconds, doubt written on his features until he finally agreed.
“Perhaps that is the right course. There are three years’ worth of entries missing …
the period when Mother married our father.
I searched for them, and it seems they ought to exist. Considering what is contained in these journals, I shudder to think why she might have believed those were the ones most prudent to destroy. ”
Nicholas bobbed his head. “She could have misplaced them, I suppose.”
“That is doubtful. She kept these locked in her writing desk, and considering what her journaling reveals, it is unlikely she would have allowed them to go missing. Perhaps she deliberately destroyed them.”
As he listened to the exchange, Marco’s concern was that Simon did not seem to consider that the accomplice might be present in the study with them.
The baron had been poisoned, so it was not he.
Perhaps the attractive Miss Carter might possess some unknown motive to forward the murderous quest, although she seemed rather pragmatic, so he did not think so.
And, if they were considering those with a close relationship to the dead baroness, would the ill-tempered Nicholas not stand to benefit directly from his and Angelo’s deaths?
He shuddered lightly at the direction of his thoughts. Angelo was right. The creeping gloom that his English family had been living beneath was insidious, causing even him to see monsters in the shadows. Talk of heinous poisons did nothing to lift that shroud of dread.
But the carriage incident could have been nothing more than an accident.
Simon sat at the desk John had vacated. Although the baron’s stamina was improving, he still required frequent periods of rest, but Molly was pleased that his complexion was healthier with each passing day.
The gray pallor, from when Lady Blackwood had been slowly poisoning his tea, was disappearing, and he had more vigor.
Their visitors had left, and Angelo and Nicholas had retired to their rooms to leave Molly, Marco, and Simon to discuss some details before his departure.
Molly was saddened that Madeline would be leaving.
Their daily teas together in the shared garden between the Scott and Bigsby homes had been the only brightness in her otherwise dull days.
“I have written down some details of affairs that need attention. The baron must sign anything official, but I have been managing the estates in his stead for some time now. Which means there are some estate matters that may arise in my absence for you to see to.”
Marco had resettled in a wingback chair facing the desk, his fingers drumming the padded arm to mark his tension. “You understand I intend to return to Florence. I cannot … how do you say this … take up the mantle when I will not remain here to manage the Blackwood estates.”
Molly’s stomach dipped in disappointment at hearing his intentions to return to Italy, but she supposed it was better to be forewarned rather than get her hopes up about any sort of potential match.
Unfortunately, it did nothing to curb her fascination with the handsome gentleman.
Was this how the men Isla Scott had seduced had felt about her?
Ugh! I hope not.
Simon stroked his bearded chin, leaning back in his chair to contemplate the new heir.
“I am afraid you are the future Lord Blackwood with hundreds of servants and tenants, not to mention thousands of subjects, relying on you. Whether you reside in Florence or in England, there is no avoiding the responsibilities of the title. You can learn something of it now or when the baron departs this world. I recommend sooner rather than later would be in your best interests.”
Marco frowned. “I am a man who makes his own choices.”
“And your choices must include what to do with issues that affect the estates and the people who rely on you. I understand this was unexpected.” Simon paused as if in reflection, his expression softening to one of sympathy, before resuming.
“My advice is to learn something of the duties of the title while I am away and calculate how to incorporate them in your future path. I myself have several titles I have inherited from my mother, but I wish to pursue a future in stone manufactory, so I have hired a good man of business to see to the estate work who will report to me. There are rewards to be had from this, I assure you. And the baron is in residence to discuss these matters.”
Marco raked through his lush waves. Molly wished she could whip off a glove to finger through the silky strands of black and discover if they were as soft as they appeared. She wondered what his scent might be, but she could not discern it from this afar.
“Maledizione!” He winced, his eyes flickering to Molly, who smiled back in innocence as if she had misunderstood his curse.
“What of Miss Carter? Why is she included in this discussion when everyone has left?”
“The baron is the trustee of Miss Carter’s estate.
With him incapacitated, I have acted on his behalf, but there are some details related to her trust that will need to be seen to urgently because it has been more than six months since Miss Carter joined our household after her mother …
left us … so I wished to discuss this with the two of you before I leave. ”
Molly’s mouth fell open, aghast at the news. She had not realized that Marco would be essentially acting as her guardian in Simon’s stead. It seemed somehow wrong to be contemplating what his firm lips would feel like pressed to her own when he was to act as … as … as her de facto parent!
From the corner of her eye, she could see that Marco’s brow had furrowed, and she wondered if he was entertaining a similar thought. The frisson of mutual awareness during their introduction now seemed unseemly, almost shameful, in light of this announcement.
“Someone is going to have to explain to me the precise nature of my relationship to Miss Carter,” Marco finally responded.
Molly thrilled slightly at the underlying note of rejection.
It suggested that perhaps a familial tie was undesirable to him, but that could be wishful thinking on her part.
Perhaps he was merely irritated by the additional obligations.
Simon gave a nod of his head. “It sounds like excellent dinner conversation, but for now we must consider the details of the trust that require attention. The baron will need to sign off, but you must prepare the documents necessary with our solicitors.”
Dear cousin Simon was focused on removing his bride from danger posthaste, or Molly suspected he would have noticed something was amiss between her and her—oh, dear—substitute trustee, who even now was glancing at her with visible unease.
But, despite everything, Molly was surprised by her own anticipation at the thought that they would be in residence together, and perhaps her trust would provide a reason to spend some time alone together.
Then she remembered her chaperon, turning to the window to find Miss Dubois shooting daggers from her large brown eyes as she shivered in the cool air, which would have grown progressively colder as the meeting had continued.
Molly was going to pay for making the vicious French poodle stand out in the cold, but overall, she thought it had been worth it to attend the meeting with the men.