She summoned courage. “I know what you did.”
“Oh, you do?” He chuckled. “And what was that?”
“You knew about me. You knew I was Robert Clark’s daughter from the beginning.”
“Of course I did. I’ve seen the will. And I was at Robert Clark’s deathbed. Of course I was. I’m the vicar. Men talk on their deathbed. They talk about their regrets. And he talked about you.”
Rage seethed. “Why did you try to hide it?”
“I think you know the answer to that question, don’t you?”
“Your uncle is Edward Stricklin, isn’t he?”
“Yes, he is. I’m Stricklin’s heir.” He flung his arms out, as if amused. “I’m the heir to an inheritance that is entirely dependent upon a young chit never showing up to claim it.”
“So you weren’t being kind to me at all. You were trying to prevent me from finding this out.”
“You are the clever one.” Sarcasm dripped from his tone. “To be honest, I thought you would have figured it out long before this.”
“But why are you here then?”
“Because you are costing me a considerable fortune. That landis mine. Clark owed it to my family. To me. My birthright.” His tone darkened. “I will get what is owed to me.”
“But I have no money. You, more than anyone, know that.”
“No, you don’t. But your suitor does.”
“James has nothing to do with this.”
“James, is it? Well, well. It must be more serious than I thought. But believe me when I say that I’ll get the money I am owed, one way or another.”
She stared at him. Perspiration beaded on her brow, and her breath started to heave in ragged puffs. The reality of the situation, and the truth about how sinister this man was, sank in deeper with each second.
He lifted the pistol once again in a dramatic display, as if taking aim. “Let’s just wait to see whatJameshas to say about that.”
***
James and his horse thundered back over the bridge, slicing through the fog, every hoofbeat echoing from the canopy of bare branches and midnight sky. The constable and magistrate were organizing a search for the vicar. His own pulse was racing. He intended to help them with the search. Right after he retrieved his pistol.
Once he arrived in the courtyard, he slid from his horse and jogged to the house and into the corridor toward his study to retrieve it from the chest. The memory of the horrible incident of finding Longham’s body flamed anew. It was not safe while he was out there, vicar or not.
James flung open his study door, but the sight that met him stunned him into stillness.
Cassandra was seated in a chair.
And Mr. North was pointing a pistol at her.
She gazed at him, wide-eyed and pale, but said nothing.
“What are you doing?” James demanded when his words finally returned.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” North asked, his voice unnervingly calm.
James huffed. “What are you talking about?”
“In the vicarage. I saw you. And Shepard. You seemed quite intent upon finding something. So I ask, did you find it?”
“We know what’s happened, North. We know you were involved in Longham’s death. The best thing you can do now is stop this nonsense.”
