The Bachelor Trap (34 page)

Brand turned away feeling slightly de trop. He squared his shoulders. Poor Miss Cutter, he thought, we must pity her. If Marion could carry it off, so could he. His grandmother would be devastated, but she could take some consolation in knowing that her son, Robert, was completely vindicated.

Though Brand was loath to leave Marion and the others to the gloom that blanketed the Priory, he could not delay the election, and had no option but to present himself a week later in Brighton where the main body of his constituents would cast their votes.

On his second night there, Ash Denison arrived at Brand's hotel. He had a lot of catching up to do and, as they made inroads into a bottle of claret, he listened with growing astonishment as his friend related the events of the week just past. His own errand respecting David Kerr was momentarily forgotten.

Brand said, “We could have made Miss Cutter's death look like an accident, but that would have meant that Marion would never know for sure what had happened to her aunt's body, not to mention the fact that there would always be speculation surrounding John Forrest's murder. So we told the magistrate the truth, the bare facts, I mean—that Miss Cutter admitted to murdering Forrest as well as Hannah all those years ago. She seemed to think that everyone was against her, and attacked them without warning.”

“Miss Cutter!” Ash took a mouthful of wine and swallowed it. “I find that incredible. She always reminded me of my own aunt, you know, a harmless tabby cat with nothing more vicious on her mind than getting me married off.”

“Well, this tabby cat had claws,” responded Brand dryly.

“And the magistrate believed you?”

“Not me. He believed Dr. Hardcastle and my grandmother. They were both worried about Miss Cutter. She had always been unpredictable, but lately she'd begun to brood about things, and suspected that people were out to harm her.”

His thoughts drifted to the conversation he'd had with his grandmother. She was beside herself, thinking that she was to blame for Miss Cutter's unprovoked attacks. It was his grandmother who was the first to notice her companion's growing instability, and it was she who had raised the subject with the doctor, not Mr. Forrest, as Miss Cutter suspected. But the dowager had balked at the idea of having Miss Cutter locked up. So the doctor prescribed a mild sedative. It seemed to help. But there was always trouble whenever Miss Cutter stopped taking her medicine.

Brand accepted Hardcastle's and his grandmother's assessment up to a point, but it did not explain why Miss Cutter had murdered Hannah all those years ago, before there was any question that her mind was disturbed. However, it suited his purposes to allow everyone to think that Miss Cutter was a little mad, because it kept Robert's name out of the whole sorry affair.

Ash said, “How did you come to be at the cottage at the critical moment?”

Brand smiled. “Marion had managed to trick Miss Cutter into lighting the fire. I saw the smoke from the chimney and went to investigate.”

What he didn't tell Ash was that it was more like a charge of the cavalry. He'd found the Priory practically deserted, but one of the footmen had told him that Marion and Miss Cutter had gone for a walk. He'd been in the herb garden when he'd seen the smoke billowing out of the chimney stack. He thought his heart would burst when he crashed through the front door. But that was as nothing when he saw the small figure engulfed in flames at the top of the stairs. He'd feared that it was Marion. Just thinking about it made his hand shake.

“What made you decide that Miss Cutter was the villain?”

Brand smiled. “The dog was poisoned.”

“What?”

“It's a long story, and I'd far rather hear how you managed to deal with David Kerr.”

Ash threw a small package into Brand's lap. “David Kerr,” he said, “is now on his way to Canada.”

Brand opened the package and shook out the contents. Marion's emerald earrings dropped into his hand, and a ring to match.

Ash said, “Kerr told the truth. He got a pittance for them. Can you believe it, the jeweler kept the receipt he insisted Kerr write out when he sold them?”

“We're lucky the jeweler hadn't sold them to someone else.”

“They were a present for his lady love. I had a devil of a time persuading him to give them up. I had to reimburse him for the funds he gave to Kerr. Then I hid the jewels in Kerr's lodgings.”

He let out a rich laugh. “I wish you could have seen Kerr's face when Bow Street Runners entered his room, with me right behind them, and searched his belongings. I'd stashed the jewels in one of his dresser drawers.” He paused a moment, a big smile on his face as the scene came back to him. “Then he was hauled before the magistrate in Bow Street and charged with stealing my mother's priceless heirlooms. There is nothing like a hanging offence to bring a man to his senses. I told the magistrate I would drop the charges if Mr. Kerr paid me for poor Mama's trinkets. Of course, Kerr has no money, so I accepted his promissory note instead.”

“You've done well.” Brand inserted his fingers into the envelope and withdrew a one-page document.

Ash's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “In the sum of ten thousand pounds, duly signed and witnessed. He knows that if ever he should return to England and try to make trouble for Lady Marion, he'll land in debtors' prison.

“There's more.” Ash took the package from Brand and withdrew two folded sheets of paper. “The parish records, as you requested. As you can see, he has torn them out of their different ledgers. I know that the bishops keep records of records, but Kerr will never be in a position to gain access to them. An unscrupulous little toad, isn't he?” He laughed. “But no more unscrupulous than we are, when the occasion merits it.”

A muscle tensed in Brand's cheek. “He is beneath contempt. If I had my way, I would let him stand trial. The death sentence would most likely be commuted to transportation.”

“I suppose Marion would have balked at that?”

“I didn't want to put her to the test.”

He swallowed a sigh. That was the problem. He didn't want to put her to the test. Things that had seemed so simple before the events of this god-awful week were now complicated. Marion had been through so much that he was treating her with kid gloves. How could she think of him when she had just buried a long-lost aunt? They were all in mourning in the Priory, all in their blacks. If they followed convention, there could be no talk of weddings for another six months.

This did not sit well with him. Three people who were largely responsible for their own demise, three people who did not deserve respect, were being mourned by those who should despise them most.

Ash said, “How does this affect your chances of being elected, Brand?”

“What?”

Ash reached for the bottle of claret and refilled his glass. “The election,” he said. “I expect all these bodies littering the Priory are all that your constituents can talk about.”

Brand bit back a harsh retort. Maybe he should take a leaf out of Ash's book. Maybe there
was
something ghoulishly funny in the situation. And maybe Ash's penchant for making light of outrageous misfortune was just what he needed to jog him out of the doldrums.

He swallowed a mouthful of claret. “You're right about that,” he said. “That's all they can talk about. They're not interested in what I'll do if I'm elected to Parliament, only in the gory details of Miss Cutter's murders. If this had come out before I won the nomination, well, I wouldn't have won the nomination.”

“As bad as that?”

“Without a doubt.”

They sipped their claret in dispirited silence.

Ash got up. “To blazes with this,” he said. “If you don't get elected, it's not the end of the world. Let's go down to the taproom and crack open a bottle of brandy. It's better than moping up here. Unless, of course, your constituents would object to their member of Parliament drinking in public?”

Brand got up as well. “I'm not their member of Parliament yet and, frankly, I don't give a brass button for what my constituents think.”

He gathered the bits and pieces that had been in the package Ash had given him, walked to the wardrobe, and stuffed them into a pocket of one of his coats. “By the way,” he said, “how much do I owe you for getting rid of Kerr?”

Ash shifted from one foot to the other. “I had to settle his debts here in England and give him a stake to start a new life in Canada.”

“How much?” Brand asked stoically.

“Three thousand,” replied Ash.

“Three thousand
pounds
?” Brand was astonished.

“No. Three thousand guineas. He drives a hard bargain.”

Brand stared, appalled, then shook his head. He flung an arm around Ash's shoulders. “Let's make that two bottles of brandy,” he said, and laughed.

At the Priory, Marion's mood was a fair reflection of Brand's. Ever since he had left for Brighton, she'd sat through a series of dismal dinners where the diners resembled a flock of crows, and the conversation was practically nonexistent. As she climbed the stairs to her own chamber after one such dinner, she was about ready to tear out her hair. She felt like a hypocrite in her blacks, and wouldn't have dreamed of wearing them had the dowager not set the example for them all. Three far from innocent people had come to a bad end. No one was to blame but themselves. She'd had a narrow escape. How could she be sad about that?

Hannah had finally been given a decent Christian burial, but the evil she had set in motion still lived on after her. Flora had told Phoebe, who had told Marion, that Theodora was packing her boxes and was going home to live with her father. The news was not unexpected, because Theodora had shut herself up in her rooms for the last few days and Lord Robert seemed to be making a home for himself in Brand's house. Marion wished that Brand was still here or that the election had come at a different time. Without him at the helm, his family was falling apart and she didn't know how to stop it.

She sat on the edge of her bed for a long time, reviewing the last several days, going over all that Brand had told her about Robert and Theodora and Flora. It was all such a waste, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. She didn't know why it mattered so much to her, but it did.

Hannah's box was in the top drawer of her dresser. Marion wasn't impulsive by nature, but she made up her mind there and then that Theodora should know that Robert had never betrayed her with Hannah. Hannah had engineered his downfall, and her own as well.

On that thought, she got Hannah's box out of the top drawer of her dresser and left the room.

Theodora was surprised to see her, but not hostile. She opened the door and allowed Marion to enter. “This is a surprise,” she said. “I was sure everyone was holding their breath until I had left.”

“No,” said Marion, refusing to be intimidated. “I think I'm the only one who knows you're leaving.”

“Oh, they all know. Trust me. The servants are bound to have told everyone that my boxes are packed.”

Marion took a chair without waiting to be invited. After a moment, Theodora sighed and sat on a small sofa. Her look was inquiring, but not particularly encouraging.