“Sir Harry Blessingame worked for Lord Candelstone. Candelstone ordered Harry to take what course of actions might be necessary to cause Lady Blessingame and me to end our relationship. Harry, for his part, came up with just the right artful lies to pull us apart. He knew us well. Lady Blessingame has the letters Candelstone wrote to Harry,” Aidan finished bitterly.
“Hmmph,” was the only sound Mr. Martin made at the end of Aidan’s recital. He stared at him a moment, then looked down at his notebook to take more notes.
“How many people know this history you have related?”
“Just family—and Lady Blessingame’s brother, Captain Melville.”
“Any servants?”
Aidan blinked as he looked at Mr. Martin. “I don’t know,” he said slowly. “You are right to ask that question. We scarcely notice servants as they go about their work.”
Mr. Martin nodded.
Aidan picked up his empty coffee cup and held it up. The footman came forward to fill his cup and Mr. Martin’s.
“Beg pardon, Mr. Nowlton. The staff knows,” Jimmy reluctantly admitted.
Aidan started. “How?” he demanded.
Jimmy nervously rubbed the back of his neck. “Lady Blessingame had tea in the Duke’s old study yesterday afternoon. When the maid went to pick up the tea tray and neaten the room afterward, she picked up the papers, think’n they be rubbish. Took ‘em downstairs with the tea tray. One of the scullery maids read ‘em as she likes ta read anythin’. Not many scullery maids ken read, ya’ know, and it be a point o’ pride, so she read ‘em aloud…” His voice trailed off as Aidan put his head in his hands and groaned.
Mr. Martin chuckled.
“But they were back in the library last night,” Aidan stated.
“Yes, Mr. Nowlton. Mr. Harold were right angry and told the maid to put them back where she found them.”
“So, to your previous question, we add the servants to the list,” Aidan reluctantly admitted, as his eyes followed Jimmy back to his post next to the breakfast buffet.
Mr. Martin gave him a crooked smile. “So, we will start here. You,” he said, lifting his hand toward the footman. “What’s your name?”
“Jimmy, sir.”
“Did you hear the gunshot last night?”
“Yes sir, I—”
Aidan did not listen to Mr. Martin question Jimmy. In his mind, he went over the events at the ball, thinking of who was around and where they were. Who among them—beside himself and Lady Blessingame—bore Lord Candelstone antipathy? It could be as few as one to a dozen. While he loved his slightly erratic sister, Catherine, he did not care for her husband. He didn’t think anyone in the family did, only accepting him to family gatherings for the love they bore for Catherine. He knew he wouldn’t be able to do that in the future.
* * *
Bella woke disoriented.
Her sleep had been rife with wild dreams.
She remembered dreaming of firing a pistol at Vizconde Miguel Carrasco-Torres, who’d been angry at her refusal of sexual favors.
He approached her with a bejeweled knife in his hand, a knife that glinted, mesmerizing, in the candlelight. He said he would use the knife to carve his initials on to her beautiful milk white breasts.
Terrified, she stepped backward, but stopped, realizing she stood on the edge of a cliff, where down below a turbulent sea crashed against jagged rocks. There was nowhere to go. She pulled the trigger of a pistol that had suddenly appeared in her hand. In that moment, the Vizconde changed into Lord Candelstone standing on the Malmsby House terrace. It was he who fell down in a widening pool of blood, a flow of blood she couldn’t stem while the Vizconde stood on the other side of the terrace, laughing.
The blood changed from a spurt to a fountain and then to rain. Everything became drenched in blood, save for the Vizconde, standing in a circle of light where he played wild flamenco music on his guitar.
Bella sat up, shivering, as the last details of her dream drifted away, so real and unreal. She realized her breaths came short and fast, still caught in the dream's terror. She forced herself to relax. She closed her eyes and concentrated on relaxing one part of her body after another until the tightness was gone from her chest, and the horror of the nightmare receded.
Lord Candelstone.
She had to see how he was. Quickly, she splashed water left from the previous night on her face and cast off her night rail. She pulled a dark gray gown out of the wardrobe and put it on. She found soft black slippers on the bottom shelf of the wardrobe and slipped into those before turning to the vanity. She pulled her brush savagely through her hair, then wound the thick, dark hair into a bun at the top of her head and secured it with pins lying scattered on the vanity. She grabbed a handkerchief from the dresser in the corner and left her room.
