“Shut up, Simone,” Charles warned.
“He did, didn’t he?” She was crying now, but she barely noticed. “He asked you for help and you let him burn so that Armand would not know you were witness to his crime!”
“Nay, love—Didier did not burn.”
The low, rumbling voice broke through Simone’s hysteria and drew both her and Charles’s attention.
Nicholas stood in the narrow doorway, his sword drawn and pointing directly at Charles’s back.
Chapter 32
Charles choked. “FitzTodd—how—?”
“Nick!” Simone screamed, and resumed her struggles.
Nicholas stepped into the cabin, filling it with his murderous presence. “Back away, Beauville.”
“This is none of your concern, FitzTodd,” Charles said, jerking Simone in front of him as if to shield himself. “She is no longer your wife!”
The imbecile,Nicholas thought before stepping forward and simply pulling Simone to her feet. He drew her tight to his side, and she buried her face in his chest.
“You did not let Didier burn alive,” Nick continued calmly. “After he saw you, you held him in a water trough until he drowned. You had to rid yourself of him quickly, else you would have also perished in the fire.”
Simone’s head raised and she looked up at Nick, her face stricken. “The water,” she croaked. “How did you know?”
“Didier told me, love,” Nick said gently, touching a forefinger to her lips. “Long ago in Withington, and again last night, after we made love.”
Simone looked to Charles, the truth breaking over her pale face like a black storm cloud. “’Tis why you refused our betrothal, labeled me as mad—when I told you Didier’s spirit came to me, you feared he would tell me what you’d done and that I’d tell others, Armand. But if everyone thought me mad, no one would ever believe me.”
Nick nodded. “And ’tis why he did not fly to your rescue at the ruins. He knew that Jehan believed in his son’s ghost. If Didier’s spirit did exist, Charles didn’t want to be found out and ruin his last chance at gaining you—and your coin—for himself.”
Charles sneered and shook his head. “’Twas never about you, Simone—only the coin. When Jehan came to me after you had flown to England, he told me ’twas he who was guarding your mother’s coin, that he was your true sire. I need that coin—Beauville Castle is near ruined!”
Simone’s eyes narrowed. “You’ll never get it. Never!”
“Get up, Beauville,” Nick commanded, gesturing with his sword. “King William’s ship and guards wait. You’ll be held accountable for what you have done.”
Charles did get up, but he began to chuckle. “Oh, certainly. And how will you prove my guilt, FitzTodd? By telling your king that a ghost helped you solve the mystery? You’ll be laughed out of London!”
“We shall see,” Nick said blithely, and moved Simone away from the doorway to let Charles pass.
Jehan Renault waited just beyond the door in the small corridor, and from the look on the old man’s face, he’d heard clearly all that Charles had confessed.
“Jehan.” Charles blanched when he saw the man. “FitzTodd lies! I would never—”
Jehan slapped Charles, twice, three times, until Charles’s lip was split and bloody and the man had raised his hands to his face with a cry. “I called youson,” Jehan choked, and then spit in the murderer’s face. “Get above,” he commanded, shoving him toward the stairs.
Nick pulled Simone behind him, her tiny hand gripping his. Once they had gained the upper deck, he saw that it had been deserted as he’d asked. A quick glance at King William’s ship, now some distance away, showed the same—an empty deck.
No witnesses.
Beauville turned, bewildered. “What is this, FitzTodd?”
“’Tis your trial,” Nick said simply. “And Simone and Monsieur Renault are to be your judges.”
Then he gestured to the long plank affixed to the side of the deck, leading only to empty air and the deep blue sea.
Simone looked up at Nicholas. “I don’t understand.”
