Once on the less-travelled, unmaintained southbound road, their pace slowed significantly. Arriving long after sunup, the weary travelers were sleep deprived and fatiguedwhen they finally drove into the park of the once-grand estate.
Ominous skies hovered, so Garrett instructed his driver to bring the baggage carriage around to the dower house. This way the artwork could be unloaded without delay and stored before the rain came.
In his care, the treasured artwork left by his mother would be protected. Thunder resounded in the distance, and black clouds gathered on the horizon.
The last family member to have dwelt in the dower house had been his grandmother on his father’s side. She’d died before Garrett was born. The dower house, a two-story brick Tudor built a few hundred yards behind the charred manor, was the only habitable structure available.
Although the house suffered from considerable neglect, the current caretakers, Mr. and Mrs. Hampden, had managed to keep the main rooms in reasonable repair. Garrett had ordered the main suite to be put to rights when he’d been here earlier, one short week ago. He hoped to find progress well underway. Marcus would need a room as well. Although many of the servants had abandoned the estate following the fire, some old retainers remained, whether from loyalty or lack of accommodations elsewhere, Garrett did not know.
A few stable lads were on hand and took control of the tired horses while Marcus and the outriders unloaded the crates. Handing Rumble over for a good rubdown, Garrett himself walked over to unstrap the half-empty trunk from the back ledge of the carriage. Best get the lot of it inside. Feeling the wind gathering strength, he figured the storm would arrive within minutes.
Marcus oversaw the outriders as they carefully pulled one of the crates from the coach. He looked exhausted but was determined to please his new employer. Garrett appreciated the young man’s loyalty. He smiled to himself, thinking againof how he’d found himself in company with the eager valet. It seemed he could not go a moment without some thought or other of Lady Natalie Spencer coming to mind. He hoped this phenomenon would diminish with time.
As he went to loosen the strap, which he’d tied himself the previous afternoon, a twinge of foreboding crept over him. The knot was not the one he’d tied. And the trunk had since been locked as well.
When he’d loaded it, he’d purposely left it unlocked.
Garrett painstakingly unknotted the gnarled bundle of rope and then went to remove the trunk itself to the ground. Expecting it to be only slightly heavier than the container alone, as it had been when he’d loaded it, he grunted when it strained his muscles. What the devil?
“Marcus!” he shouted. What had been added to the trunk? Thoughts of Farley lurking about with a smug grin taunted Garrett. It would be just like the louse to pilfer something from the Spencers and plant it on him. It was the sort of thing that little weasel would do.
Marcus rushed over and went to grab one of the handles of the trunk. “I thought there wasn’t much in this one, my lord,” he said as they both heaved the trunk off the platform.
“Careful, now,” Garrett said, in case the unknown contents were breakable. He could not for the life of him imagine anything of his own that would have added such weight to the trunk. “You did not store your belongings in here, by chance, did you, Marcus?” That would be an acceptable explanation. But he hoped not. He’d ordered none of these items be touched by anybody. Marcus would need to be admonished.
But Marcus shook his head vigorously. “No, my lord.”
They set the trunk on the ground, and Garrett regarded it skeptically. He did not possess any key that might unlock it, so the catch would have to be broken. Eyeballing the dark clouds nearly upon them, he reached back down to grasp one of thehandles. “Let’s get everything inside for now. Then see if you can locate a crowbar or hammer—something to break the lock.”
As they hefted the trunk to carry it inside, Garrett was again perplexed by what the devil could be stored within. The damn thing must weigh ten stone more than it had when he’d carried it before.
THE HEAVENS BROKE LOOSE
The heavens broke loose just as the stable hands carried the last of the crates into the foyer of the dower house. Garrett had just brushed the dust and dirt off his hands and turned to head upstairs when Marcus found him.
“I’m having a bath prepared for you, my lord,” Marcus said. Entering the foyer, he surveyed the various crates. “And I’ve a crowbar sitting on that trunk. Can’t imagine what could be inside it. Would you like my assistance before I go up?”
In the midst of the rush to get everything inside, Garrett had forgotten about the dratted thing. “No, I’ll take care of it. You settle in upstairs. I’ll be there momentarily.”
Remembering they’d put the trunk in the parlor, just off the foyer, Garrett slipped around a few crates and entered the room. He was exhausted and reluctant to discover whatever problem would surely be found inside.
A crowbar balanced on the lid.
Taking a deep breath, Garrett wedged the bar under the lock and pried off the fastener holding it in place. Setting the bar on the floor, he then reached out and lifted the lid.
It took a moment to process the contents. His mind did notwish to accept the reality of what his eyes saw. And yet, the startling image of tangled hair and bloodied white linen was very real. Patches of blood marred the material. The tangled hair was blonde. A sticky mass of dried blood had congealed in the woman’s hair.
The hair wasblonde!
“Oh, dear God, no.” Falling to his knees, Garrett reached inside and touched her back. No response. Frantic, he pushed the tangled hair aside and found the tender skin of her neck.
It felt warm.
His fingers searched until he located a pulse, weak and fluttery, but a pulse nonetheless. It had been strong and even not a day earlier, when he’d pressed his lips against it.
“Marcus! Mrs. Hampden!” he bellowed hoarsely. “Send for a doctor at once! Immediately!” He bent over and wedged his hands and arms beneath her. “Oh, my darling,” he whispered. “What has happened to you?” His lungs constricted. His eyes stung.
He could not bear to think how she came to be inside the trunk. Locked inside! The outer rim of his vision turned red with anger at the thought.
