CHAPTER 68
Unspoken pain filled the house and unspoken rage at what this man all had trusted had done and would have succeeded if not for Graham and Cam.
There was deadening silence at the dinner table that night. Cam knew there was silence at the staff kitchen table as well since most had known Tally Hepburn all their lives. She knew she’d never forget the tears in Blakeney’s eyes, the awful pain on her father-in-law’s face. Eugenie fought against the truth until she collapsed in tears against her husband’s chest.
Vereker finally raised his head from the uneaten slice of thick ham on his plate. He said with all the firmness and conviction he could muster, “Tally was consumed with madness because of the damnable war. And Waterloo, it was so bloody, so many men lost. There can be no other reason for what he did to you and Simon, Graham, and tried to do to you and Cam. I believe he wanted to die when he realized he’d failed, and he realized there would be no future for him.”
No one said anything. Did anyone believe it? Cam remembered clearly Tally’s words and knew he wasn’t mad, he was a vicious monster who’d coveted his brother’s birthright. He’d killed Simon and their poor tutor and tried to killGraham. He’d said it himself, his plans were blessed when he discovered Graham had no memory.
No one wanted to adjourn to the drawing room after dinner. Donner and Eugenie went upstairs. Vereker excused himself. Graham didn’t want to leave his father, his pain and shock were too deep. He and Cam followed him into his study. They stopped in the doorway. His father and Blakeney were standing together, holding the other. There was no sound. Graham waited, then said quietly, “Father.”
Vereker looked at them. And now Graham saw not pain, but rage. He saw the same expression on Blakeney’s face.
“We will survive this, my lord,” Blakeney said, nodded to Graham and Cam, and left the room.
Vereker said, his voice steady, “No more excuses for Tally. He would have killed both of you. He tried twice. When you went to his cottage, he was ready for you. You should have told me. We could all have gone.”
Of course Graham hadn’t wanted that, hadn’t wanted his father to face his brother’s treachery, but he didn’t say it aloud.
Cam said, “Sir, please tell us what you believe Tally would have done if he had succeeded in killing Graham in the abbey ruins. Wouldn’t he have realized there was no escape for him? Wouldn’t he have known we were coming? But rather than run, he stayed. He was ready. He had the gun in his pocket. He would have shot us, both of us. Why, sir, why didn’t he simply leave, escape to France?”
Vereker said. “I have asked myself the same question. I knew to my gut after the attack at the abbey ruins it had to be Tally. But I didn’t act, I waited, hoping, praying there was someone else, someone—” He stopped, shook his head. “I was afraid to face the truth until both of you came to me.”
Graham said, “I’m very sorry for all of it, Father. But again, why would he remain to face what he’d done? Thestatue falling in Ventnor, it could be explained as an accident, but the attack in the abbey ruins—it pointed right at him. If nothing else, it was very poor strategy.”
“Yes, I agree. But he told you why he’d wanted you and Simon dead. He wanted what was mine. The thing is, I never saw this jealousy in him, this hatred of me in him, coveting what was mine by birth. But it had to be there and I didn’t see it.” His eyes filled with tears. “It meant killing both you and Simon and your tutor, Timmons, poor man.”
Cam said, “Sir, you have said Tally was very smart, but again, the abbey ruins—what he did, it was so simplistic, so ill thought-out.”
Graham slowly nodded. “It was like he was presenting himself to us on a platter.”
Vereker said, “He saw an opportunity and took it. He admitted everything. He knew it was all over so he gave it up. But I don’t understand why he would still want to kill you. It would gain him nothing and he’d be caught and hanged.” Vereker paused, added, his voice low, furious, “Why did the pair of you go to his cottage by yourselves?” He strode to Graham, grabbed his shoulders in his big hands, tried to shake him. “Damn you, Graham, if he had succeeded—” Vereker shuddered, swallowed, jerked away. “I could not have borne it, Graham. Not a second time. I could not.”
Graham walked to his father and pulled him into his arms. Father and son held each other. Cam waited, silent, and wondered what the consequences would be of this unspeakable day. She thought of Tallyrand Hepburn’s body at Mr. Milly’s funeral parlor, knew everyone hereabouts was speaking of his treachery. She was, she knew, glad to her soul the man, mad or not, was dead.
That night, Cam lay awake next to Graham listening to his even, deep breathing, thankful he was finally asleep. Theyhadn’t spoken much, merely held each other. As for Cam, she couldn’t sleep, too many questions roiled and bubbled in her brain. But there were no answers. She realized she had to accept it. Whatever was in Tally’s twisted brain, it didn’t matter now. He was dead. She had to stop worrying it like a dog with a bone. Everyone had to accept Tally’s betrayal.
CHAPTER 69
Three days later
Tallyrand Hepburn, second son of the third Earl St. Lucy, wasn’t buried at King’s Head cemetery with his ancestors, but in the graveyard beside the St. Lucy church. Cam knew this decision broke Vereker’s heart, but there was really no choice, Tally’s betrayal was too great. There were many in attendance, for all had known Tally, and now the townspeople stood silent and still at the grave site, a solid wall of support for Vereker and his family. If gossip and speculation were rife, they didn’t hear it that day. All King’s Head staff and tenant farmers stood behind the family, all in somber black.
Graham pressed Cam closer to his side, protecting her against the stiff winds that blew in from the Channel. He whispered against her ear, “Despite our letters to your father and to Ryder, I know they will come. Actually, I expected them to be here sooner.” He paused, said, “I hope Ryder is able to come. I-I need him.”
She squeezed his gloved hand, leaned up and breathed inthe clean, sweet scent of her husband, and realized she too wanted her father to be here, knew she needed him. “They’ll come, you’ll see. Will we have to tell my father about my sleeping for three days?”
“He will hear all about that, count on it, so no choice.” He paused. “I imagine he will want to see the wound over your temple, just to make sure you’re all right again.”
Toward the end of the service, both Lord Whitsonby and Ryder Sherbrooke arrived together and moved through the crowd to stand beside Cam and Graham. When her father’s arm came around her, Cam leaned into him, felt his warmth, his love. She felt immense gratitude for him, always there for her. She saw Ryder Sherbrooke stood close to Graham, his hand on his shoulder. Both men were rocks. She saw Vereker nod to them.
And somehow, their presence lessened the bite of the bitter winds that blew through the graveyard. If Vicar Piercebridge’s words didn’t comfort, though he tried, they at least put an end to it.
Her father did indeed examine the wound over her temple.
CHAPTER 70
Four days later
