Chapter Twelve
Violet paced the length of Billings’ study. Located next to the library, where her brother was presently examining the scene of death, the room had the same old-fashioned ambience with dark paneled walls, mullioned windows, and an ancient hearth crawling with stone roses and vines. A burgundy Aubusson added a splatter of color…
Monique’s face, streaked with blood, flashed in Vi’s mind. Horror penetrated her veil of numbness. Her throat thickened.
What happened to you, Monique? How can you be so full of life one moment… and gone the next?
“Are you all right, my dear?” Marianne was standing by the window. Dawn’s watery light highlighted the fine lines of worry around her eyes. “Perhaps you’d prefer to go upstairs—”
“I’m fine,” Vi said at once. “I want to be here.”
Determination anchored her. There was no way she was going to miss the upcoming meeting. It was bad enough that Ambrose had barred her from revisiting the library. Her big brother had put his foot down, saying that she’d seen too much as it was; he’d taken Carlisle, Emma, and Strathaven into the library with him, and Billings had joined them. Violet had been made to wait in the study like a child under Marianne’s watchful eye.
Annoyance warred with guilty unease.What’s taking them so long in the library? How is Carlisle handling the situation? Is he following through with our plan?
After stumbling upon Monique, she and Carlisle had faced a difficult dilemma. If they revealed that they’d found Wick's ring in the dead woman’s hand, they’d be incriminating Wick—something neither of them wanted to do. She and Carlisle had gone directly to find Wick and clear up the matter… but his room had been empty, the bed still made.
Where on earth had Wick gone?
Since they could tarry no longer, Vi had made the only proposal she could think of to protect her friend: she and Carlisle had to keep Wick’s ring a secret for the time being.
Carlisle’s features had been even starker than usual. He’d looked as if he were grappling with an army of inner demons. “I cannot in good conscience embroil you in my brother’s affairs. To ask you to lie for him,” he’d said flatly.
“We don’t have a choice,” she’d replied. “We can’t risk endangering Wick.”
As much as she hated keeping anything from Ambrose, she hated the idea of Wick being accused of murder even more. Her chum might be a reckless rake, but he was no killer.
Carlisle’s ravaged expression had spoken volumes about his moral conflict. Protect his brother by lying… or tell the truth and condemn his sibling? At times, being Lord High Horse couldn’t be easy.
Taking pity on him, she’d said, “Why don’t we do this? Let’s at least wait until we have the chance to talk to Wick. Once we ascertain his innocence,thenwe’ll tell Ambrose everything.”
Sin first, beg forgiveness later—not exactly a new strategy for her. Although Carlisle hadn’t been entirely convinced, he’d relented. She’d changed quickly into more proper attire, and then together they’d gone to Ambrose.
Which brought her to now. What was taking them so long in the library?
“Pacing a trench into the Aubusson won’t get them in here any faster,” Marianne said mildly. “Do you want to talk about what’s troubling you?”
Vi went through a mental checklist of her problems. Concealing evidence in an investigation… no, she couldn’t talk about that. Engaging in repeated intimate acts with Carlisle… mum’s the word on that as well. Discovering desire for the first time and with a man who utterly confounded her… right.
“There’s nothing I want to talk about,” she said truthfully.
Just then, the door opened—at last—and Billings marched in first. He was a small, wiry man with thinning grey hair and papery-looking skin. The others filed in behind him, their expressions somber. Carlisle brought up the rear and closed the door.
Despite the situation, Vi’s pulse skipped faster at the sight of him. His smoky gaze met hers, and awareness thrummed between them. After the steamy interlude in the library, there was no point in denying their animal attraction. With a flash of insight, she realized that the perilous secret they now shared bound them together as well. They were… co-conspirators.
“Did you find anything?” she blurted to the group.
Ambrose nodded gravely. “Why don’t we sit first?”
Billings took his position at the large mahogany desk which dominated one end of the room. On the wall behind him hung a rather grisly painting of dead, glassy-eyed pheasants lying in a heap, waiting to be plucked. Everyone else gathered around the desk. Violet was glad when Richard chose the chair next to hers.
Ambrose remained standing, taking the place next to their host.
“I’ll begin with a summary of what we know thus far.” His tone was brisk and professional. “Madame Monique was discovered in the library at approximately three this morning by Violet and Carlisle. By the state of the corpse, I would judge that the victim had been dead no more than an hour or two before she was found. She suffered a blow to the right temple.”
“Dear heavens,” Marianne murmured.
“I can’t confirm that the blow killed her,” Ambrose went on. “We’ll need a medical man for that. But the shape of the wound suggests that it was caused by a long, thin object. When I searched the library, I found traces of blood on the ledge of the stone mantelpiece. It’s likely that Monique hit her head there.”
