Brandon nodded and gently removed Clara’s hands from his neck. “I’ll tell her. Go to sleep now.” He kissed her brow and wiped her tears with the cuff of his nightshirt. He did not leave the room until he was certain she was asleep.
Cody was stumbling in the front door as Brandon hurried down the stairs. He rubbed his eyes, not crediting what he saw as he slouched drunkenly in the open doorway. “What’s this, Bran? Have you taken leave of your senses? Where are you going? It’s the middle of the night.”
“I’m surprised you noticed.” He shrugged into the vest he had been carrying over one arm and tugged at each of his boots. “It appears you lifted a few.”
Cody grinned sheepishly, brushing back an errant lock that fell over his forehead. “More than a few. Deuced better company in town, Bran. You’re no fun anymore. Couldn’t tell you sober.” He straightened with grave dignity and crossed the foyer, then lost his poise and leaned against the newel post. “It was bad enough before, but now thatshe’sback”—he cocked his head toward the upper floor—“hell, you’re miserable. Couldn’t stand it any longer. Had to get out for a while.”
“She’s gone, Cody,” Brandon said tersely.
Cody’s eyes brightened considerably, and he would have let out a whoop of joy if Brandon hadn’t clamped a hand over his mouth.
“I’m going to find her.” He released his hand slowly. “If you can sit in a saddle, I would appreciate your help. If not, then put yourself to bed.”
Cody was finding himself sobering rapidly. He was not certain he appreciated it. There was a certain amount of comfort in the fogginess of his senses. “Dammit! If she’s gone, let her stay gone! I’d say good riddance to the bitch myself if—”
“Stuff it!” Brandon retrieved his three cornered hat from a hook at the entranceway and started out the door. “It’s not Rory who’s gone. It’s Shannon.”
Shannon? Who the hell was Shannon? Cody pushed away from the post and ran after his brother, slamming the door in his wake. “What are you talking about?” he called, lengthening his stride to catch Brandon. “Who the devil is Shannon?” He had an urge to pull at Brandon’s sleeve and stop him in his tracks but doubted that he would be effective in his present state. “Who is Shannon?” he repeated as they reached the stable.
Brandon yelled for one of his grooms who slept at the back of the stable and lighted a lantern. “She’s someone I knew before I met Rory.”
That meant nothing to Cody, but Brandon was not forthcoming with more details. He massaged his temples in bewilderment, then shrugged and helped Brandon gather the tack. The sleepy groom attended them in a few minutes and finished saddling two mounts. Cody kicked his horse into step beside Brandon. Someone had clearly trod beyond the bounds of reality, and Cody was not pointing a finger at himself. “Bran, what are we doing? Who in the devil is it that’s gone?”
“It’s Shannon, I told you.”
“Yes, I know that,” he responded patiently. “But how am I to help if I’ve never met her? Did she come to the folly after I left for town?”
“She’s been here all along.”
Cody tried again, taking a calming breath. “Your wife’s been here.”
“No. It wasn’t Rory. It was Shannon.” He paused in his vigilant search of the countryside. The lantern he carried illuminated the hard planes of his face, and he glanced sharply at Cody. “I do not understand it myself. The resemblance is nothing short of astonishing. But it is Shannon Kilmartin who stepped off theCentury,not Rory.”
“It’s one of Aurora’s tricks.”
“I thought so at first. But I believe Shannon is telling the truth about never having met Rory. Shannon is not skilled at dissembling.”
“Are you seriously telling me the woman you rescued from the river isnotAurora?”
“That is precisely what I am telling you. And it’s not the first time I’ve pulled Shannon from the water.” He urged his horse to a faster gait along the road, and his eyes continued searching the bordering wooded land.
“And you met herbeforeyou met Aurora?” Cody asked, a nebulous thought forming in his mind. “In England?”
“Yes. Briefly. At Glen Eden. Her father was the vicar on Eric’s estate.”
“Interesting,” Cody murmured under his breath. Then, suddenly, “My God, Bran! I have something for you. Glad you spoke of the earl. Jogged my memory.”
“What are you going on about?” he bit out, the last of patience spent.
Cody dropped the reins to explore the pockets of his coat. He looked very pleased with himself when he finally extracted a small packet. “This!” he said, handing over the neatly tied packet. “It came today on theEagle.I’ve been carrying it around. Sorry. It’s the earl’s stamp, isn’t it?”
Brandon placed the lantern between his legs and turned the packet over in his hand. A sense of foreboding filled him and he paused slightly before slipping off the string and tearing the oilcloth cover open. After a cursory examination, he tossed a leather pouch filled with gold sovereigns in Cody’s direction, then laid open the pages of the letter. His expression was bleak as he read the four-page missive. He would not let himself refine on Shannon’s fate if Clara had not persisted searching for her mother at the docks. It was enough to know that Shannon would have made her living on her back in some waterfront brothel. There would have been no other employment for a murderess. When he finished reading, he folded the vellum and put it in his vest pocket. “She was telling the truth,” was all he said.
Cody wondered at the despair in Brandon’s voice. “It concerns Shannon?”
“Yes,” he said heavily. “It explains her presence on theCentury.”
“And?”
