Chapter 15
CHAPTER 15
F rancis fixed his gaze on the wooden slats of his ceiling and half-listened to Sarah’s incessant carping. She twirled her fingertips in his chest hair while her head rested on his shoulder; it ought to have been a restful moment after a tupping, but the woman wouldn’t bloody well stop talking, and anger at the trouncing he’d gotten from his cousin’s whore still vibrated through him.
“You really just ought to kill them next time. Get this over with. Forget your blade and bring your pistol. March right into his home and shoot the man dead. Then do the same to everyone he loves.”
She didn’t understand. He could explain his methods to her—again—but she sodding refused to listen. The woman was growing increasingly tiresome, and decreasingly useful. The sex was adequate, but any additional time spent in her presence was not to be borne. In fact, he’d spent far too much time being distracted by her wiles already. It was rather past the time for him to focus.
Irritation and fury bubbled up through his abdomen and settled heavily in his chest.
What he required was another level of torment for his cousin. Jasper’s whore had bested him that night, but he would best her in the end. Francis needed them to be off balance, unsure of themselves and their abilities. He wanted them squirming with fear and discomfort, begging him for relief. That was how he would prevail.
His connection, Ludlow, had assured him that he’d been successful in diverting the attention of the Home Office, which ought to have afforded Francis more freedom. But that bitch and her interfering friends had brought in additional guards and limited his movements.
A scowl marred his brow.
Ludlow had also assured him that no one would realize he’d not attended his hanging alongside Miles, as he’d ensured the man hung in his place had been given his name. But people fucking noticed. Hell, but the man had better make good his other promises… Regardless, he was going to die once Francis was duke.
“Are you listening to me, Francis?” Sarah’s voice grew shrill, and he winced. “You must kill them and be done with this swiftly. Once you’ve inherited the title and become duke, we shall dispense with my dreadful husband, you will marry me, and we shall put to rights?—”
He stopped listening to her rant, the urge to shove her off his bed nearly overwhelming. However…the woman might very well prove useful in his plans, after all.
* * *
The carriage rolled to a stop, and Maria glanced up into Jasper’s watchful gaze. He sat with his side pressed to hers, warming her even through the thick layer of her cloak.
“Will your parents believe our tale?” he asked softly.
She shrugged one shoulder. “They will have no reason to dispute what appears in the paper.”
“And you’ll speak to Grace directly after the newspaper on the morrow?” His eyebrows knit in concern.
“I will. She must be kept abreast of my encounter with Francis.”
He nodded, his gaze intense. “Have you any regrets?”
The colours of his eyes were difficult to see in the dim light of the carriage, but she felt as though she’d begun to know them like her own. Do not become enamoured with him, Maria , her inner voice warned. Indeed, she was very well aware of what societal men believed of marriage. But would Jasper truly behave the same?
“No.” Her lips quirked upward in one corner. “I do not regret our time together.”
Leaning forward, she captured his mouth with hers. He responded instantly, tangling his tongue with hers in languid strokes that had her body thrumming once more.
He pulled back with a groan. “Good,” he breathed. “Neither do I.”
She gave him a smile then reached for the carriage door’s handle.
“Wait,” he whispered urgently. His eyes clouded. “Please be careful. Francis will return, and he is known to carry a grudge.”
A mirthless laugh escaped her. “Indeed.” She squeezed his hand in hers.
Jasper nodded, and with one last glance, Maria exited. The oil lamps that lit the street for her familial home scarcely permeated the mid-night opaqueness. A shiver travelled up her spine, and her breath escaped in visible puffs. For a night in spring, it was rather cold.
Marching up the steps to her home, she gave a parting glance to Jasper’s waiting carriage before she enclosed herself within the familiar warmth. The servants and her family were to bed, leaving the building silent and still.
She made her way into her bedchamber and stashed her costume in her travelling satchel before she settled in at her writing desk to pen the article for The Morning Herald .
* * *
Dim light crept past the curtains in Jasper’s bedchamber as he was slowly pulled from sleep. Memories of the past evening filtered through his mind, making his morning erection throb with eagerness. Bedding Maria had been impetuous, but he could not bring himself to regret it. The woman did sensational things to his body and mind, and he was eager for more.
Breathing deeply, he caught the scent of their sex and smiled. He hoped Maria’s scent lingered on his bed for days—though Lord knows one of his new ‘maids’ would likely wash it before then.
A faint screech echoed through the corridors, and Jasper sat bolt upright in bed, his pulse abruptly racing and his chest tightening with alarm. A second scream joined the first, followed by some lower voices. What the devil ? —?
Jasper tossed aside the bedclothes and bound from the bed, hastily donning stockings, a pair of trousers, a shirt, and a waistcoat before a knock sounded at the door.
“Yes,” he called, fastening the buttons on his waistcoat.
The door crept open, and a red-faced footman stepped forward. “My apologies for the interruption, Your Grace,” he said, bowing. “But there’s been a…disturbance belowstairs. Harris sent me to fetch you.”
Jasper nodded with a jerk of his head. “I’ve heard the commotion. Please lead the way.”
The air in the corridors was sweet with the scent of Mrs. Ross’ morning baking and the gentle fragrance of fresh garden flowers. Jasper breathed deeply of the aroma, bolstering himself for whatever it was that had occurred.
They descended the stairs into the foyer and followed the high notes of weeping and the low voices of Harris’ men. A group of them turned their worried gazes on him as he neared his library. A maid he didn’t recognize sat upon the floor, weeping into her arms while two footmen crouched helplessly at her side and attempted to offer comfort.
Christ . What had happened? Taking the last few footsteps at a run, Jasper darted through the doorway. In an instant, the comforting fragrance of home was replaced by the cold scent of whisky…and death.
There, standing in the centre of the library was Harris, his eyes dark with concern and anger. And at his feet was the form of a woman, pale and still.
Jasper cursed soundly and rushed forward. “Is she…?” But he already knew the answer.
“I’m afraid so,” Harris murmured.
He nodded. Fuck .
“Ought we to summon a doctor?” Jasper stepped closer, and his heart all but stopped. “Holy hell. I know this woman.”
“Do you?” Harris asked, his eyebrows lifted. “That poor maid found the lady in the mews. Having just concluded our shift change, the men were exchanging information when we heard her scream. It began to rain, and in order to preserve any evidence on her person we thought it best to bring them both inside. Haven’t been able to get a word from the maid since.”
“This is my neighbour, Lady Cartwright. Damn. I thought her to be out of town with her husband,” Jasper said on a breath. He knelt next to her but was unwilling to touch her lest he disturb something.
He scanned the scene. Poor Lady Cartwright. Her lips were blue and surrounded by a dried white crust, her eyes wide and entirely devoid of life. Fear dipped her eyebrows and puckered her forehead, and a responding swoop of sympathy dipped his stomach. Poisoned , his inner voice whispered.
“You don’t suppose…” Jasper began, unable to complete the thought.
“Indeed, I do,” Harris responded, clearly having reached the same conclusion. “I’ll leave the suppositions as to why to you and your runners, but the lady was on your property, Your Grace. From my perspective—and I have some years of experience—I would take this as a message. The lady was your neighbour, she was seen as close to you, and that made her a target.”
A grimace pulled at Jasper’s lips. Regardless of the means or reasons, the poor woman was deceased, and he must now answer for it. Hell, as much as the thought grated, there was another person that must be a part of this.
Jasper glanced up toward Harris. “Have you sent a summons to?—?”
“Not yet,” Harris interjected, shaking his head. “Best send one, now.”
Standing, Jasper strode to the writing desk across the room, wrote a swift note, folded it, and jotted the direction on the front in swift, slanting strokes.
“Bernard,” Harris called to a footman who lingered near the doorway. “See that that note is delivered in person. Take whatever conveyance you require.”
“Yes, sir.” The man nodded, accepted the parchment from Jasper, and left on silent feet.
“What of the magistrate?” Jasper asked, gesturing toward another bit of parchment.
Harris shook his head. “Best let Grace see to this personally.”
With a weary sigh, Jasper rubbed at his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. It would seem that Francis’ attempt to incite fear and panic had come to an end, and he was now attacking in earnest. When would the next come? Who would be the target?
Christ , he must warn Maria and Juliana. They were all in danger.