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Authors: Kari Edgren

BOOK: A Grave Inheritance
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“He said please, at least. That’s got to count for something.”

“Merely that he preferred the peas passed rather than tossed in his lap. Mark my words, James considers his boorish behavior of the highest service to Henry in the off chance that he succeeds in dissuading my affections.”

“Maybe so, but you should try all the same. What do you have to lose?”

“My dignity, for starters.”

Nora looked concerned. “I wish you two could get along. Just imagine if Henry and I were behaving in a similar fashion, practically forcing you to choose between us.”

“But you’re not a deluded ignoramus, intent on keeping everyone in their proper place. Quite the opposite, actually, since you refuse to recognize rank of any kind, including Henry’s. And he’s not running around, crying foul like some spoiled child.”

“Try to be patient, Selah. James is not a bad man, just very confused. Give him some time, I’m sure he’ll come around.”

“Not likely,” I muttered.

Nora gave a heavy sigh. “I should go see to the trunks. That new maid has probably tied my shifts in knots by now. I swear, she couldn’t fold a dress to save her life. You should have selected someone more experienced for us to share.”

On many fronts, Beth Lambert had proven to be a poor maid, but there was one area in which she excelled. “I chose her because she is brilliant at fixing hair. Not even Mary was so talented.”

“You’re jesting,” Nora laughed. “And all this time I thought you acted out of pity since no one in their right mind would ever hire such an inept creature. Tell me, during the interview did you even inquire if she could iron or only about her skill with hairpins?”

“Why hairpins, of course,” I said, laughing in return. “Our clothing may look a state, but we will have the best tended hair in London.”

“Well, I’m glad we have our priorities straight.” She squeezed my waist once more then turned to go, leaving me alone again to stare out at the city.

London was my new home for the indeterminable future. The Goodwins would remain until springtime, returning to the Colonies after the winter storms had passed. I hoped to be with them, but at present there were too many uncertainties to know where Henry and I would live once we wed. One choice stood in front of me, the other a world away at my back.

Brighmor lay thousands of miles across the Atlantic Ocean, my last memory of the great stone manor somewhat tarnished by Mr. Chubais. Nora never would have insisted that James and I try to get along if she knew the truth about that final night in Hopewell. In a rare act of kindness, James had helped sweep, even carrying the ashes to the refuse pile himself. After that we never spoke of it again, though what we neglected to express in words was declared tenfold in his behavior toward me—our differences had grown beyond my Irish ancestry and lack of rank.

From that night forth, his scowls grew darker and his manners even more aloof than before. As for myself, I appreciated his particular silence on the subject of Mr. Chubais. I had nothing to explain, nothing that I wished to relive over and over through endless questions and conversation. It was no secret that James thought me responsible for what happened, and in a way he may have been right.

I shuddered again from the memory. My bizarre reaction that night was pure madness, brought on, no doubt, by unmitigated fear. Why else would I have threatened a creature capable of killing me in a single blow? No sane person would have dared utter such words, or worse yet, actually believed them as I had at that moment. By sheer luck, I had Brigid’s knife, or my scream would have been silenced for good once the beast got hold of my throat. Standing in the darkness mere feet apart, the knife had been forgotten until I threw my hands up to protect myself. Then it was over, and Mr. Chubais lay at my feet, reduced to a pile of white ash.

No matter how many times I went over that night, carefully picking each minute apart, only one thing stood out with certainty—Mr. Chubais had been the messenger, and where one messenger failed another was sure to follow. As I continued to stare out at the city, I felt a strong sense of relief at being so far from home. By leaving the Colonies the very next morning I had managed to stay one step ahead. But ahead of whom, I had yet to discover. Before their deaths, my parents had spoken of our kind being hunted in the old world, that my maternal grandparents had left Ireland for this very reason. At the time, I assumed the hunters to be human, their heinous actions instigated by fear of our kind. Never, in all my imaginings, did I picture an albino who could assume the form of a gigantic hound.

“I dare say, civilization has never looked so good before.”

I jumped in surprise, having been so deep in thought I hadn’t realized that James had joined me.

“My pardon, Miss Kilbrid, I did not mean to startle you.” His voice dripped with pleasantness, so much in fact, that I was immediately suspicious.

I glanced at him, in search of any clue to explain the sudden change in his demeanor. His usual scowl was gone, replaced by a cheerful smile. “I didn’t hear you approach,” I said cautiously.

“Yes, you appeared distracted. I imagine a city such as London can be intimidating for someone from the Colonies.”

His tone left nothing to the imagination—
for someone from the backwoods
was more like it
.
I gave him a tight smile, which was more than he deserved. At this point, a sharp kick to the shins would have been too good for him
.

“Of course,” I said, refusing to be provoked. “You must be anxious to get ashore after so long an absence.”

“Anxious beyond measure,” James said, sounding almost gleeful now. “Since we arrived I can’t stop wondering how long it will take before the king has you arrested. It’s possible the guard will bring a boat out into the Thames, but I do believe they will chose to wait for you on the docks. Much less work and the people always appreciate a good spectacle.”

My stomach jumped into my throat. “What do you mean? The king has no cause to arrest me.”

“He has all the cause in the world,” James scoffed, “now the daughter of a known Irish rebel has come to London to meddle with a noble betrothal. It sounds like grounds for treason if you ask me.”

I set my shoulders in a defiant line. “You’ll not frighten me, Mr. Roth. Henry has been home since September, and for all you know, the betrothal with Amelia has already been put aside.”

James shook his head as his smile turned to a condescending smirk. “I promise you, that is not the case.”

“Regardless, Henry would never allow for me to be arrested.”

“Lord Fitzalan,” he corrected me, “will have little say in the matter. His father, the Duke of Norland, is the wealthiest, most influential man in England aside from the king, and even then there is some debate. Upon my honor, neither man is about to forfeit such an advantageous match in favor of an upstart commoner from the Colonies.”

My face flushed red with anger. “There’s no need to be rude. Henry has made his choice. I’m sorry if it’s not to your liking.”

“Though perhaps your arrest will prove unnecessary,” James continued, deliberately ignoring my words. “Now that his lordship has returned to the civilized world, I’ll wager he’s come to his senses without any help from his father or the king. You know, Lord Fitzalan was always a favorite amongst the ladies, and was never shy in showing his regard in return.”

I bit back a laugh. Certainly, James wasn’t so dimwitted as to think I would be discouraged by some youthful dalliances. Henry was an outgoing, handsome man. I would have been more surprised to hear that he
hadn’t
been a favorite at court. “None of that matters. Henry loves me and I’ll not hold a few innocent flirtations against him.”

“Oh, Miss Kilbrid, your naivety is pathetic. It actually pains me to think you so ignorant as to what really happened this past summer. You were nothing more than a diversion until his lordship could return to England.”

“That’s a lie! I released Henry from his contract before you even arrived. He had every opportunity to return of his own free will, yet he chose to stay at Brighmor.”

James looked at me, his eyes narrowed in thought. “I give you credit for attaching him at all. Women far superior have tried and failed at the same game.”

I drew a steadying breath, then proceeded to speak with strained patience. “Mr. Roth, I understand that you are disappointed in Henry’s decision, but this is not something we are just playing at. Our love is not a game.”

“Maybe not to you,” he said, “but for his lordship, love has always been a game. Did he ever mention a young lady by the name of Miss Justine Rose? She’s a famous actress who became his mistress right before he disappeared to the Colonies. I should know, we went regularly together to watch her perform and I helped him make the arrangements. A most charming woman by any estimation.”

My temper flared and I had to force myself to take another deep breath. “I don’t believe you. Henry would never take up with an actress.” At least, I didn’t think he would.

James laughed and pointed out toward the city. “That’s London out there, Miss Kilbrid, not your precious Hopewell. If you require proof, ask his lordship. He’s no reason to deny it.”

I had nothing more to say, and remained still, staring straight ahead. Tears threatened, but I blinked them away, not about to show James how much his words had hurt me.

“There is another option, you know,” James said after a moment, his voice growing more subdued. “One that would return everything to its proper order.”

I could only imagine what he was about to suggest. “Pray tell, Mr. Roth, what do you have in mind? That I take the next ship back to Pennsylvania or simply throw myself into the Thames and be done with it?”

“Don’t think me entirely unsympathetic,” he said. “In good faith, I offer you my best advice. Save yourself the king’s ire and consent to become his lordship’s mistress rather than his wife. His Majesty has mistresses himself and would hardly deny one of his nobles the same pleasure.”

I gaped at him, utterly shocked by such a suggestion. “How dare you! Just because I lack a title does not give you the right to insult me.”

The scowl had returned, erasing all traces of his previous smile. “Since we first met, I’ve come to realize that you’re not just a commoner, Miss Kilbrid, you’re also an aberration. It’s no secret the hound that broke into Brighmor didn’t come from this world. Like you, it was also an aberration. I don’t know what you did to get mixed up with such a creature, nor how you were able to kill it with only a kitchen knife, but I do know Lord Fitzalan will have little patience for such matters. For your sake, I suggest we make a deal. Put aside your demands of marriage and I’ll not mention what happened on our last night in Hopewell.”

“I will do no such thing.”

He gave a derisive snort. “So be it. You leave me no choice than to relay every sordid detail of what I saw that night.”

“Go ahead and tell him everything. I’ve nothing to hide from Henry.”

His scowl darkened. “We’ll see about that.” He spun on his heel to go, then stopped and glanced back at me. “You might want to keep watch for the king’s soldiers. They’ll be the men in red coats with swords and muskets. I’m sure they’ve readied your room at the Tower.”

Through a blur of angry tears, I watched him storm away.

Insufferable pig! How dare he suggest such a thing!

I hadn’t just given up my life and sailed all the way to England to become a mistress. Henry loved me and wanted to marry me. He had even promised to forfeit his wealth and title if need be so we could be together. Brighmor was a sufficient property to support our needs, though not so grandly as Henry was accustomed. But that didn’t matter. We had been happy at Brighmor and would be happy there again. James, with his need for self-aggrandizing titles, would never understand that I meant more to Henry than all the Dukedoms put together. To the very center of my heart, I knew this was true.

Loud voices called up from the river. I brushed the moisture from my cheeks and watched while a handful of sailors hoisted Captain Saunders and the accompanying crewmembers onboard. The first mate approached, only to be met by the captain’s thunderous expression. They spoke together in hushed tones then disappeared below.

I waited on deck, anxious for the captain to reemerge with orders to disembark. More than ever, I needed to see Henry. Not that I believed James, but I needed to feel Henry’s arms around me, to hear him confirm that I was the only woman he loved and would marry. Ten minutes stretched into twenty before my patience was fully spent. Unable to wait any longer, I hurried down the stairs to a gloomy passage that led to the Captain’s quarters. Loud voices passed through the thick wood as I reached up and rapped on the door.

“Enter,” the captain bellowed.

I opened the door and stepped into the room. “Excuse me, Captain, I am eager to have my party settled into lodgings while there is still daylight. When will you be ready to ferry us to shore?”

Captain Saunders exchanged a dark look with his first mate. “I’ve not the slightest notion. The customs master has ordered all passengers and goods to remain on board. Most irregular treatment, I assure you.”

“Did they give you a reason?” I asked.

“Some bluster about persons of interest, whatever that’s supposed to mean. I’ve been ordered to sit tight and wait for word.”

James’s gleeful words shot through my head.
I can’t stop wondering how long it will take before the king has you arrested.

“There must be a mistake,” I said, trying to keep my voice from shaking.

“No mistake at all, Miss Kilbrid. The customs master was very specific in his orders to detain the
Callisto.
If anyone leaves the ship, my cargo will be confiscated in the name of the king.”

My knees began to wobble beneath me, and I gripped the doorknob for support.

Captain Saunders continued with his angry tirade, oblivious to my altered state. “I’ve got a hull full of timber and wheat almost a month overdue and I’ve been ordered to sit tight!” He pounded a fist on the table, making the quill and inkpot jump.

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