Ralph gasped. “You’ll never prove it was me.”
Brendan shook his head. “I don’t have to, Ralph. I know my father wasn’t mad. And neither will I ever be. You have set me free.”
“No!” Gaylord tried to raise himself up and fell back.
“Tell me why,” Brendan repeated.
His uncle’s eyes went dark with hatred. “What would you know? You were a beloved son, like my brother. Simon was always the favored one. Neither my mother nor my father made any bones about their preference for him.” He coughed, bloody froth touching his lips. “I would not have done it, but I lost money gambling, and a dangerous gang threatened me. Father would not give me the money. He threatened to kick me out. When Simon died that all changed. Suddenly, I was his precious heir. I would have killed Father too, but he died before it became necessary.” He choked, blood running down his chin. “Then I was Viscount Gaylord. No one could touch me.”
Brendan itched to shake him, to force him to reveal his secrets. “But to kill my parents, Gaylord, why?”
“Long after Simon’s death, someone told your mother they’d seen me in Chichester that night. Constance wrote to me, demanded I come and explain.” His rasping breath slowed, and his eyelids drooped. “There was no love lost between us. I couldn’t risk her keeping silent. I had no alibi. I’d told the magistrate I was in Worthing visiting a lady friend. And your father was such an upright gentleman…” He sneered, then coughed violently, struggling for breath. “The earl wouldn’t have let it go. Didn’t know how much they knew.
“It all seemed to go against me, and I had…to…”
His gaze turned cunning.
“It pleased me to seduce a maid from your father’s house. I fed her a story that I was going to surprise your father and mother. It was just a joke. If she could help me find a way in. She even managed to get your father’s dueling pistol for me…” He panted, his words beginning to slur. “Afterward, I thought I was safe, but I kept an eye on Beechley Park whenever I could. But then my butler, Wagstaff, due to some misplaced sense of justice over a foolish maid I’d slapped around a little, accused me of having blood on my clothes the day your parents were shot. Didn’t believe I’d killed a fox.” His eyes widened, pleading, he reached out a hand to grasp Brendan’s coat. “I was afraid.”
Was Gaylord seeking forgiveness? He would not get it from Brendan.
Gaylord’s hand dropped. He breathed his last and lay still.
Blood dripping from his fingers, Brendan climbed to his feet, shocked to see his uncle dead. Gaylord looked so harmless lying there, pale-skinned and aristocratic. His excuses for savagely destroying so many lives seemed feeble. Brendan still wanted to yell at him and shake him. His uncle had never married. Perhaps the burden he’d carried had prohibited him from sharing his life with a woman. He’d given up a peaceful life to gain a title.
Brendan looked down at him. “You were the mad one, Gaylord.”
He turned and ran over to the still body of his dog, crouching down beside him. There was blood on his head. That villain Gaylord had struck him savagely with the butt of his shotgun.
“Hunter?”
His heart in his mouth, Brendan stroked the soft fur on the dog’s back and was rewarded with a small wag of his tail. Hunter tried to rise. “Still, boy. I’ll go for help. I take back everything I said about your hunting abilities.”
Brendan picked up both shotguns and secured them on his saddle. With one arm hanging useless, he struggled to mount Bruno. Fortunately, the patient horse stood still. He swayed dizzily. The reins sliding through his bloody fingers, he nudged Bruno and turned him in the direction of Camelia Grove house. He fought to hang on.Must have this wound attended to. Get help for Hunter. Send a footman for the magistrate.
When he emerged on the drive, the sight of the mansion through the trees in the park heartened him. He shook his head to try to rid his eyes of the mist clouding his vision, but a dark veil threatened, and as he neared the house, it blinded him. He slumped forward in the saddle.
“Good heavens! What has happened? My lord?”
Brendan was vaguely aware of the butler issuing sharp orders.
“You’ll need the magistrate. Lord Gaylord is dead,” he forced out. “Send someone down to the horse paddock to help my dog. He’s hurt.” Strong hands dragged him from his horse, and then he knew no more.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Robert’s wedding, atSt. George’s in Hanover Square, was an elaborate affair, as was the reception held at the Lavertys’ townhome in Westminster. Handsome in a dark-blue coat, Laura’s brother stood beside his pretty bride, Aurelia, who wore a white-and-silver gown, inspired by the famous wedding gown worn by Princess Charlotte.
Beaming, Mr. and Mrs. Laverty welcomed Robert into the family and made a fuss of Aunt Gertrude, who was very much the lady in a dark-blue, lace gown made by her French modiste, as well as a wide-brimmed hat adorned with ostrich feathers.
“The Lavertys are not of theton, but Robert is happy, and they are wealthy, so it is a successful union.” Aunt Gertrude’s observation as she and Laura traveled back to Mayfair, made Laura gasp.
She couldn’t help giggling. “They love each other. You are an awful snob, Aunt.”
Aunt Gertrude nodded sagely. “It is how society works.”
Laura had had enough of society’s rules. It was undeniably true that his business made Mr. Laverty wealthy, which, in her mind, was admirable. She liked the sober-minded gentleman, who, although not in the best of health, had had a twinkle in his eye as they’d chatted at the wedding breakfast. And she couldn’t be more pleased for her brother, especially as Aurelia so obviously adored him.
“Cherish her, Robert,” Laura had told him as they’d said goodbye. “Aurelia loves you and deserves the best of you.”
