The Reluctant Suitor (81 page)

Throwing caution to the wind, Adriana raced through the archway leading into the vestibule and snatched open the front door. Stepping beyond the portico, she glanced about the immediate grounds. No one was in sight, not even the gardeners.

In deepening confusion, she returned to the interior and glanced briefly toward one end of the drawing room before wandering back to the massive great hall. There she turned slowly about in a circle as her eyes swept the corridors and probed the nooks and crannies beyond the stone archways surrounding the central room on both levels. There was absolutely no sign of
any
servant, much less Harrison.

In renewed determination, Adriana decided that she had to be more methodical in her search and began in that endeavor by returning to the drawing room, this time entering it rather than merely glancing into it.

She had barely moved past the tall wing chair residing near the entrance when she halted with a sudden gasp, espying Harrison’s crumpled form in front of the massive fireplace. A thin trickle of blood trailed from his temple into his gray hair, causing her heart to lurch with sudden fear.

Flying across the room with her dressing gown spreading outward like giant wings, Adriana knelt beside the steward and frantically searched for some sign of life. Greatly relieved by the steady pulse she found beneath his stiffly starched shirt-cuff, she sought to reassure herself that he had not been assaulted but had merely stumbled and hit his head. Considering his advancing years, there was always that possibility.

Yet, after straightening his thin legs and placing a pillow beneath the elder’s head, she espied a diminutive, blood-smeared marble bust lying on the floor near the corner of the marble hearth. Its present location and somewhat gory condition was enough to send her apprehension soaring, for that particular bust usually sat on a table near the entrance to the room.

Leaving the man, Adriana hurried downstairs to the kitchen to fetch a bowl of water and a cloth with which to cleanse his wound, but when she entered, she promptly halted, seeing it completely devoid of those who usually worked there. Even so, water was boiling in several pots, and in a large bowl whipped egg whites had begun to lose their consistency.

“Cook? Where are you?”

Silence continued to reign unbroken, congealing her fear into a cold, hard lump in her throat.

Of a sudden, Adriana realized her heart was thudding against the wall of her chest. An abandoned kitchen at Randwulf Manor was definitely not normal. Indeed, as tightly as Cook ran her domain as well as the help allotted her, preparations should’ve been in progress for the evening meal.

Catching sight of a pitcher of water, Adriana snatched it up, grabbed a cloth and a small shallow basin, and then ran out. In spite of its length, she was sure her hair was standing on end as she hastened upstairs again.

At the entrance to the drawing room, she momentarily set aside the items she had collected and dragged

the wing chair away from the doorway, providing herself with an unobstructed view of the passageway and the great hall beyond it. She had no wish to be caught unawares by an intruder in the same manner as Harrison had.

Collecting the items she had brought from the kitchen, Adriana knelt beside the elderly butler and began bathing the blood from his temple and cheek, all the while keeping a wary eye out for the culprit whom she now feared was lurking somewhere within the house. All she could think about was Roger, and the people he had poisoned. Somehow he had managed to get past the dogs and slip into the house. As much as that idea terrified her, it seemed the only logical explanation for Harrison being unconscious and the servants missing.

As many times as she glanced toward the drawing room entrance, absolutely no one came within range of her vision. Realizing that her fears were mounting with each passing moment, Adriana resolved to search the house from end to end in a quest to find some help. Someone of a friendly nature had to be in the house! He just had to be!

“Aris? Leo? Where are you? Come here, boys!” she called, desperately hoping she’d hear their toenails clicking against the marble floor as they responded to her summons. “Oh, please, please come. . . .”

Then the thought dawned.
Perhaps Roger had poisoned the animals!
He had always been afraid of them. How better to dispense with the pair than to poison them! But how? He’d be too afraid to approach them. Even if he did, they’d never take anything from his hand.

The terrifying thought sent her flying down the corridor toward the gallery where the pair enjoyed sunning themselves. Reaching the archways that served to divide the room from the corridor, she peered within.

Although less brilliant than in the winter, the strange configurations of colored lights steamed into the room, making it difficult to accurately discern what was real and was not. Holding up a hand to shade her face from the subdued radiance, she moved past the entrance, not at all certain what she’d find.

“Aris? Leo? Are you here?”

“As a matter of fact, my dear, they are,” a familiar voice replied, snatching a startled gasp from her.

Frantically she glanced about, searching out the devil who had entered her home.

“Roger! What are you doing here?” she demanded, her spine prickling with fright as she espied him sitting much like a king in a large wing chair. He looked very lofty, smug, and amused. Obviously he was enormously pleased with himself.

Searching back through her memory, Adriana wondered how she could have overlooked his presence in her anxious quest to find servants. Yet even this late into spring, the sun still created strangely deceptive shafts of light that confused the eye. Less than a month from now, that problem would cease, at least until the coming of late autumn. She was now convinced that Roger had been sitting exactly where he was for some time, no doubt smirking in demented amusement as he watched her dashing hither and yon.

“I’ve come to pay my respects, my beauty,” he stated, seeming very self-possessed. His eyebrow arched to a lofty height at the scar that fractured it as his eyes lowered to her rounded stomach. Then his upper lip lifted in a disdainful sneer. “I see your husband has been taking his pleasure of you, my dear, but I can almost promise you by the time I’m finished with you, that little part of him will be dead.”

Clasping a trembling hand over her belly, Adriana stumbled back, her heart chilling with fear. Once again, she searched about with her eyes, wondering why she had heard nothing from the dogs, and then gasped in sudden agonizing horror as she found them both lying on the floor beyond Roger. Their tongues hung unnaturally out of their mouths as they lay sprawled upon their sides. She had no other recourse but to

believe they were dead.

“You’ve killed them!” she railed, tears filling her eyes. “You foul, stinking son-of-a bastard!” At the moment, it was the worst name she could think of, but almost as soon as it came out of her mouth, Adriana realized it didn’t sound quite the same way that Shakespeare had phrased his defamation in
King Lear
and had to conclude that she had probably besmirched the man’s talents by seriously misquoting the insult. Nevertheless, her slander suited this particular popinjay perfectly, considering the insinuated affront made its descent from the sire rather than from the mother.

“I certainly hope so, and as you can see”—Roger casually swept a hand about to indicate the pair—“’

twould seem so in spite of the fact that I was in somewhat of a rush to leave the mill after receiving word that my wife was still alive. I had cause to momentarily reflect on whether I had grabbed the right bottle from the chest of little treasures that Thaddeus Manville has been keeping well stocked for me. In my haste, some of the contents sloshed over the outside of the vial, smearing the ink so badly I could no longer read the writing, but in any case, whether I inadvertently picked up the laudanum instead of the poison, the animals cannot help you now.”

“Aris and Leo would never have taken anything from your hand!” she declared. “How did you manage it?”

The miller chortled in amusement, as if truly reveling in his clever feat. “I searched about the area outside the manse for the dogs’ most recent kill, knowing they’d go back to it. I dribbled poison over it and then waited. They returned to the house soon after feeding upon their spoils and were let in by Harrison, as is his usual wont. If the dogs are not already dead, I’m sure they will be in time. I don’t make too many mistakes.”

“How did
you
get in?”

“I slipped in behind the scullery maid after she went to collect vegetables from the cold bin. Once we gained the kitchen, I held her hostage with a pistol pressed to her temple and threatened to shoot her or the first one who moved. Now they’re all snugly locked up in the cold bin outside, along with the gardeners and the vegetables.”

“And the rest of the servants?”

“Oh, I had the scullery maid summon them downstairs, too. She didn’

t want to, poor little thing, but the pistol barrel boring into her cheek convinced her that she’d better cooperate or else. Except for poor Harrison, all the other servants are in the cold bin, including your maid who received a large bump on her noggin for trying to attack me. She fell like a plummeting stone.”

“And Harrison? What did you do to him?”

“Well, I thought I could sneak up behind him, but for an old man he has amazingly keen hearing. After he caught sight of me, he ran to get the iron poker from the fireplace, but I threw a small statue at him and took him down with a blow to the head. Is he alive?”

“Barely.”

“Too bad. I thought I had killed him.”

“You’re evil, Roger. Very, very evil. When I think that you murdered Lord Randwulf because of me . . .”

She searched her mind for a way to make him fully aware of the remorse and agony she had recently suffered after learning he had poisoned the elder. Her eyes hardening, she looked at him coldly. “I can only plead to God that I’m forgiven for ever allowing you to follow me here. I should’ve declared you a nuisance long before you ever thought of murdering Lord Randwulf. How could you have done such a horrible thing to that fine gentleman? He never did you any harm.”

“Didn’t he?” Roger shot back, growing incensed. “He tried to separate us! He couldn’t stand the idea that you would marry someone other than his precious son! Well, that was enough motive for me!”

“As you have since discovered, Roger, his death availed you nothing,” she pointed out acidly. “I would never have married you. You were merely an acquaintance, and certainly not a very commendable one.

You were disagreeable and petulant, short of temper with anyone who seemed even remotely interested in me, yet most of them were friends I had known all my life or nearly so. In fact, you were envious of people I never would’ve considered marrying.”

“I hated them all, especially Lord Sedgwick and that other one you married. Lord Colton!” Roger’s upper lip lifted in a contemptuous sneer. “I loathe him more than anyone. I tried to poison him, too, but from what I hear, the Jennings slut helped herself to the brandy I spiked with poison the afternoon he returned home.”

Adriana swept her gaze scathingly over the miller. “ ‘Twould seem you used any petty excuse to kill those you consider your enemies, Roger, even Pandora Mayes, whom you sought to hold captive for your own sordid little pleasures. As much as I pitied you for what you once suffered as a boy, that is no longer the case. You’re not worthy of anybody’s compassion. In fact, you’re nothing but a spineless coward. Your very presence here in the home of that grand gentleman you murdered sickens me to the core.” Her own lips turned, clearly conveying the revulsion she felt toward him. “ ‘Twould have been a merciful act for the world had you been killed right along with your mother when your father ran her down with a livery. You and your father are truly alike, both vile, depraved, wicked
murderers!”

“What are talking about?” he barked irately, bolting from his chair and striding forward.

Adriana stood her ground and lifted her chin, defying him to strike her as she met his gaze. “Obviously, you’ve been ignorant all this time of the extent of your father’s sins.”

“Whoever told you that my father ran over my mother?” he railed in her face.

“Please
, Roger, lower your voice. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with my hearing.”

“Tell me!”

With a casual shrug, Adriana complied. “There was a witness to that event, Roger. Unfortunately, that witness was dispensed with in the same manner in which your mother was killed. ‘Twould seem the driver of the livery who ran over both women was none other than your father. In fact, he probably married and killed his second wife for the sole purpose of acquiring the mill and her wealth.”

Roger staggered back in shock and laid a hand across his brow as he struggled to recall the incident that had taken his mother’s life. He could remember jumping aside just as the livery came upon them. Had he not done so, he would’ve also been killed. “Are you entirely certain about this?”

“How can I be? I wasn’t there, but you must have been. Weren’t you? What did you see?”

Clenching his hands into white-knuckled fists, Roger twisted this way and that, as if wrestling with a demon . . . or his own memory. A low snarl escaped his lips and quickly gained in volume and raging intensity as he raised his fists skyward and shook them violently as if berating the very heavens for his troubled past.