Page 113 of A Momentary Marriage

“My mum did,” he said with pride.

Laura went still. “Your mother can use a slingshot?”

“Sure. She’s capital! She learned it from her brothers. She’s the one taught me.”

“Robbie!” His name came down the hall in a high, slightly wobbly voice.

“Miss Barstow.” Robbie shot Laura a guilty glance. “I better answer.”

He took off, leaving Laura standing on the balcony, staring numbly after him. Adelaide?

Laura sank down, sitting on her heels on the floor. Demosthenes, after an inquiring snuffle against her ear, lay down beside her and laid his giant head on her lap. Absently, Laura petted him as she contemplated the news she’d just learned. Had fluffy, silly, sugary Adelaide tried to kill her?

If James died, Adelaide’s husband would inherit the title. She would be the lady of the manor. And her son would someday inherit it all—sooner rather than later if Claude, too, suffered some mysterious illness.

Laura thought about Netherly, Adelaide’s “secret friend.” She remembered the small, shady spot hidden deep in the garden and the blanket she and Walter had found there. Secluded and sylvan, it was a perfect place for a lovers’ tryst as well as for an expert to aim a slingshot at a passing horse. That day that she and Walter had seen the man climbing the back stairs perhaps he had been going to meet Robbie’s mother in some unused room, not the boy’s governess.

It made sly, slimy sense. Two people to commit the crimes. Netherly to obtain the mercury and plant it in London when he called on Tessa and Adelaide to frighten the horses into bolting, sending Laura’s carriage down the treacherous hill. He would have pushed off the urn and probably crawled under the carriage to loosen the brake slipper. Either of them could have laced the medicine with mercury or put it beneath James’s bed.

Claude’s wife, she was beginning to think, must have been the brains behind the scheme. After all, she was the one who benefitted. Netherly, presumably, had done it for love—or at least for lust. Laura wondered whether the man had been an admirer of Tessa’s and strayed into an affair with Adelaide, or had been Adelaide’s lover from the beginning and only pretended to be one of Tessa’s swains to disguise his true interest.

“Come, Dem.” Laura rose to her feet. She must discuss all this with James.

James’s study, however, was empty except for Claude, who rose politely at her entrance. “Are you looking for James? He hasn’t returned yet.”

“Do you know where he is?” Laura asked.

“He was going for a walk, I believe, but that was some time ago.” Claude frowned. “But I’m sure there’s no reason to worry, now that Netherly’s locked up.”

“Yes, of course.” She could hardly confide her suspicions about Claude’s wife to him. She forced a smile. “Perhaps I’ll run into him in the garden.”

Suddenly Demosthenes let out a bark that reverberated through the hallway and charged down the hall. Fear flooded Laura. She ran after the dog, and Claude followed her curiously. When Laura opened the back door, Dem shot across the terrace, cleared the steps in a single jump, and tore off down the path.

Her heart thundering in her chest, Laura took off after him in a run. Claude was right behind her.

James climbed the steps from the road, his head down in thought. After the magistrate left, James had walked along the road, trying to ascertain where and how someone had caused Laura’s carriage accident. It wasn’t necessary, of course, but it still bothered him that her would-be killer had so little motive for what he had done. James was a man who liked to have all the details.

But he had found nothing—no broken shrubbery where someone might have hidden, nothing that might have been used to frighten the horses and they tossed aside. Finally, admitting defeat, he started back to the house. Perhaps Laura would have some ideas. The two of them hadn’t spent much time in conversation since he’d arrived home.

He was smiling at the thought—until he looked up and saw a woman sitting on the bench at the head of the stairs. When he saw the blond hair, his heart leapt, but then he realized that her hair was too bright a gold, the curls done up in blue ribbons to match her frilly blue dress. It wasn’t Laura, but Adelaide. No doubt she wanted to take him to task again for having doubted Claude. He suppressed a sigh. He must be polite and listen to her; Laura would wish it.

“James,” she greeted him gaily, rising to her feet. “I hoped I would catch you.”

“And so you have.” He reached the clearing at the top of the steps and paused politely.

“It’s such a lovely day. I thought we might take a walk down to the ruins.” She moved toward him, her hands by her side, half hidden by the voluminous folds of her skirts.

“That sounds charming,” James lied. “However, I must get back to work.” There was, after all, only so much sacrifice a man could make, even for Laura’s approval.

He started to pass by her, but Adelaide stepped into his path and raised her hand from the concealment of her skirts. In her dainty gloved hand was a pistol, aimed straight at his chest.

Well. He hadn’t expected this.

Adelaide raised an eyebrow. “What? No sardonic retort?”

Gone were the dimples and gracefully fluttering hands, the huge limpid eyes, the bright smile, the soft, pliable posture that made her look smaller than she was. Instead she stood straight and firm, the gun steady in her hand. Her face was cold and decisive. She might have been another person, distinctly out of place in her ruffles and ribbons.

“So it was you,” James mused. “I must say, this comes as a surprise.”