Even his voice seemed to come from the bottom of a barrel. “The date is November 16, 1819. Where are you, Lyra?”
Suddenly, she was whisked away to that fateful day, and as if she were standing right in the middle of the foyer at that moment and looking around, everything became clear. “I’m at home. At Weston House.”
“Where is Roger?”
“He’s just returned, but he’s drunk. I smell brandy on his breath. His clothes are rumpled and his cravat is missing.”
“Where do you go?”
“I run upstairs. I try to make it inside the library, but I don’t make it. He catches up to me on the landing and starts…hitting me…” She remembered it all. She could feel every blow as it struck her, and her breathing became more erratic.
“What happens next?”
Lyra clung to that gentle voice. “I kick out with my legs. We struggle. We’re near the railing. I notice…something…someoneis there…”
“Who is it, Lyra? Who’s there?”
She shook her head with a frown. “I can’t… They are in the shadow of the doorway to Roger’s chamber, but I think…it’s a woman.”
“One of the servants?”
“No. They are all downstairs.” Her breathing turns shallow. “The figure is coming toward us… There’s a scream, but it’s not mine. Hands reach out… They push him over the railing. The woman comes toward me, but the servants hear the scream and scare her away…”
“Who is she, Lyra?” the soothing voice asked. “Do you recognize her?”
“I don’t know… She looks familiar…but I can’t…”
With a gasp, Lyra’s vision abruptly clears. Tears were streaming down her face, and although Talon still grasped her hand, she began to shake uncontrollably. “Dear God,” she whispered. “Rogerwasmurdered.”
“Yes,” the barrister agreed grimly, “But at least now we know that you’re innocent. What we need to figure out now is who killed him.”
CHAPTER TEN
Alister clenched his jaw after a brief conversation with Talon. As the barrister took his leave, he found that he had quite a bit more to consider than before.
If their deductions were accurate, then they were dealing with a crime of passion, and whoever was claiming to be the anonymous attestant was likely the actual murderer. With that argument, chances were good that Talon could get the initial testimony thrown out, making the professed witness have no choice but to come forward if they wanted to dispute the decision. If they were the guilty party, chances are they wouldn’t.
But while there was enough validation after Talon’s session to prove Lyra wasn’t responsible for Roger’s death, there was still the matter of clearing her name from any treasonous activities. Alister felt confident this mystery woman was also the one mentioned in the scrap of paper he’d given to Drayven, but until he could solidify his theories, he couldn’t free Lyra from this nightmare.
Not only was that enough to occupy his every waking moment, but with each passing day the king grew more unstable, Lord Liverpool grew more impatient for answers, and Prinny got closer to the throne and possible, life-threatening danger. Time wasn’t something Alister could rely upon.
But what could he do? He’d practically torn apart the earl’s study, along with every other room he could gain access to at Weston House, looking behind every painting and nook and cranny he could find, but nothing further had turned up. He knew there was something he was missing, for the more he learned about Roger Coventry, the more he was convinced the man was capable of just about anything nefarious.
Unfortunately, Lyra was caught in the middle of it all.
Even now her dark eyes were deep pools of emotion as she turned to him with a strained smile. “Do you know that the day Roger died, I went to my brother and actually told Roarke that I thought I’d killed him?” She put a hand to her forehead. “I’m so relieved to know that all the missing pieces are there now.”
“Except for one,” Alister murmured. “Are you sure you don’t recognize the woman?”
Lyra frowned. “I’m not…sure. Hopefully, it will come to me, but unfortunately, that part is still a bit fuzzy.”
“Talon said that sometimes, after a hypnotic session, the patient has the chance to fully regain their memory.”
“I hope so.” Lyra sighed. “I would like to be able to put all this behind me, once and for all.”
Alister swallowed over the tightness in his throat. He knew that if he ever dared to confide his ulterior motives for being at Weston House, now was the time, but he found that the words just wouldn’t come forth.
“If you don’t mind, I’d like some time alone before dinner.” Lyra stood to go, and still he couldn’t get his confession to break free. As she passed him, all he could manage was a brisk nod.
