Her eyes glimmered. “I already said I would.”
“Say it again. I want to hear you say that you’ll be mine.”
“I’ll be yours,” she whispered. “Forever.”
Unable to tear his gaze away from her, he said without turning, “Any objections, Kent?”
“Far be it for me to interfere,” came the dry rejoinder.
His heart full, Richard gazed at his bride-to-be. “We’re going to be so happy, lass.”
“I know.” Mischief joined the love in her eyes. “Now aren’t you going to kiss me?”
“Brazen little minx, aren’t you?”
She grinned. “You like that about me.”
Since she was absolutely right, he saw no reason to contradict her. So instead he kissed her, she kissed him back, and the world faded to the blaze of love and passion…
Until Kent coughed and McLeod said loudly, “I see two words in your future, Carlisle:special license.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Back at Traverstoke the next afternoon, feeling much more the thing after a good night’s rest, Violet gathered with her family and friends in a private sitting room. Magistrate Jones and Billings were also present. Ambrose had just concluded his explanation of yesterday’s events.
“So, in the end, what began as an accident became a crime of opportunity.” The magistrate sat at the head of the circle in a high-backed chair, his expression severe. “Miss Turbett pushed Monique de Brouet, unintentionally injuring her. When Goggston came upon the unconscious woman, he found the necklace on her and tried to take it. But she came to, resisted, and he smothered her.”
“That is the gist of it, sir,” Ambrose said. “It turns out that Goggston was being hounded by the cutthroats from whom he borrowed money. In trying to keep in step with his friends, he’d landed himself in desperate straits. When the necklace presented itself to him, he saw it as the solution to all his problems.”
“Who would have thought Goggs capable of such evil?” Em murmured to Violet.
Goggston’s voice rang in Vi’s head.She laughed at me, taunted me when I tried to take the necklace from her—and now she’s dead. Have a care, or I’ll do to you what I did to her…
At the time, Vi had been too focused on getting free to be frightened. But now an icy rivulet trickled down her spine. How wrong she’d been about Goggs. On the outside, he’d seemed amicable and innocuous yet on the inside…
She felt a hand on her shoulder; turning her head, she looked up at Richard, who was standing behind her chair. The understanding in his eyes anchored her. As ever, his presence was solid and reassuring.
“So how did he plan to get away with the crime?” Magistrate Jones asked.
“I don’t think he had much of a plan, sir, but he did manage some inspired deviousness. When he saw Mr. Murray’s signet on the chain around Monique’s neck, he hit upon the idea of framing Mr. Murray by placing the ring in the victim’s hand. Then he went and buried the sapphire necklace and the blood-stained pillow in the woods for safekeeping. As the days went on and no mention was made of Mr. Murray’s involvement, he began to fear that his ruse hadn’t worked.”
Violet exchanged a guilty glance with Richard, and he spoke up.
“I would like to offer my apology again, sirs, for impeding the investigation,” he said in grave tones. “I was trying to protect my brother, but instead I paved the road to hell.”
“Having started down that road myself once or twice,” Ambrose said dryly, “I know how tempting it can be.”
Knowing this was her brother’s way of saying bygones were bygones, relief poured through Violet. She wanted her family to adore Richard as much as she did.
“Back to Goggston,” Ambrose went on, “he panicked that we were closing in, and he began to strike out. The day of the village fair, he planted the pillow in Mr. Murray’s room. And then he drugged Violet, hoping to discredit her and Carlisle, whom he’d feared had caught his scent.” Ambrose paused. “He got careless with that last move, and when Carlisle questioned him about the poisoned drink, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was found out. So he bought himself time by blaming Parnell and made a last bid for escape—kidnapping Violet to use as a bargaining chip.”
“Very thorough, Mr. Kent,” the magistrate said with approval.
“What I still don’t understand,” Billings put in, “is how Monique de Brouet arranged for such a clever switch. Now that I have the real necklace back in my possession,”—the banker’s nod to Ambrose passed for gratitude—“the resemblance between it and the fake copy is extraordinary.”
“The answer to that question was provided by Jeanne, the victim’s maid, who Mr. Lugo tracked down and my sisters interviewed this morning. I shall leave it to them to share their findings,” Ambrose said.
All eyes turned to Violet and Emma.
