The Second Shot (The Dueling Pistols) (8 page)

Thoughts spun around in Meg's mind in a horrible whirlpool of self-recrimination and half-invented lies. At the same time Meg knew nothing would get her out of this. Slowly she spoke. "Hello, Captain."

Chapter Five

Meg squeezed her eyes shut, opened them, and looked at the man lying beside her. He was finally sleeping. Moving slowly as a sun-drunk cat, she slid back the covers and reached for her sweat-stained dress. Tears stung at the backs of her eyelids. She swore:
Never again.
Once she set foot on England's shores,
never, ever again.

She would be Diana. It had cost too much to turn back now. As Diana she'd have control over her destiny. She wouldn't have to sleep with horrid men like the captain.

The captain caught her wrist.

She nearly screamed.

"We never talked about that noise."

"I thought you were asleep. I was trying not to make any noise."

"Last night. The splash."

"What splash?" Meg begged all the saints in heaven to help her keep her voice steady.

The captain held his silence, his hand a steel manacle clamped over her wrist.

"If you must know," Meg began as if quite put out. "It's really quite disgusting, but Miss Fielding... her illness...well, there were some of her soiled linens and...and and well, she was sick on several of her books, and I wrapped them up and threw them overboard. She wanted to save them, but I couldn't stomach packing them in her trunks, so when she fell asleep, I got rid of them."

She held her breath, waiting on his response.

His grip loosened. "What are you going to do when she discovers they're not there?"

"I do intend to see her safely delivered into the bosom of her family, and I think she means to ask them to retain me as her nurse, but as dear as Miss Fielding has grown to me, I shall have to take a coach straightaway for Kent. My husband's people are there and are expecting me.

"I thought your husband's family lived in Derby."

Had she said that? She was going to have to be more careful of her lies. "Oh, no, that's
my
family. Well, and some cousins of his, which was how we came to meet."

"You have been quite helpful with her."

"You should be grateful."

The captain gave her a measuring look. Christ, she'd slept with him. What more did he want?

"I should go help Miss Fielding dress. She isn't able to do much for herself," said Meg, pulling her clothes on now that he'd let her loose. "She has been unwell, you know. I'll be relieved to turn her over to her relatives."

"I should see her safely into the arms of her family."

Meg hoped that the captain would content himself with letting her take over his responsibilities to his passenger. If he insisted on taking Diana off the boat himself, there would be hell to pay.

"You must have a thousand things to do, and I have kept you from your sleep. Let me discharge this errand for you."

He smiled, "I suppose you'd like to help me out."

Meg wanted to punch him in his yellow teeth. How like a man to think she was grateful for enduring his ham-fisted caresses. One would think he'd offer to put in a good word for her, but she waited in vain. She gritted her teeth. "It is no trouble."

Meg forced herself to chatter as she drew on her undergarments. "I do so hope that I carry no contagion, for I should not like to bring so poor a gift home with me, but then surely, if Miss Fielding's illness is catching, I should be under the weather by now. Although my husband always said I had the constitution of a horse. The whole regiment would be tormented by aches and fevers, and I barely suffered so much as a sniffle. I suppose I must count myself fortunate in that regard."

Meg smiled. Maybe he'd worry the next time he sneezed.

"Very well, Meg. I do have many duties to see to this morning. I shall leave Miss Fielding in your capable hands."

She chomped the inside of her cheeks to control her expression and held her eyes open wide.

She only had to get off the ship, keep Diana's aunt from getting on the ship or coming into contact with anyone who knew her as Meg Brown, and totally convince everyone that Miss Fielding would slip off the ship with no one seeing her at all.

That was all. She was most certainly doomed.

* * *

William Bedford stared at the letter on the salver as if it might sprout fangs and bite him. What did one do when the dead were communicating to him? Although Lungren had obviously been alive when he had written the missive. If the letter was a suicide note, William had no desire to be the recipient of such a missive.

Reluctantly he reached for the single sheet and popped the seal. Of course, if he was to know more, he supposed he had no choice but to get on with it.

My dearest Bedford,

By the bye, now that you have the title to my estate—my former estate—I should warn you that it is not the prize it seems. The farms and rents that are left after the sell-off my predecessors have managed to effect are not enough to support the daily expenses of running the household. Of course, if you should manage to oust my sisters, expenses might be trimmed considerably. However, things have fallen into such a state of disrepair that I am afraid only a good bit of blunt shall make it worthy. Blunt I do not have.

I, however, by the time you read this, shall be on a long journey to a new land. Do keep this to yourself, old chum....

William set the letter down, his hand shaking. Fury spurted through him. He grabbed the offensive single sheet and wadded it into a ball to throw in the fire.

He couldn't quite bring himself to consign Lungren's last words to the flames. He smoothed out the paper and began again.

... I shall have to level you if you speak of my whereabouts to anyone. America is a new and exciting land that I wish to see. Perhaps I shall make a new home there where a man is not encumbered by the shadows of his family. I didn't think it fair to leave you with such a burden without warning you it might be best to stay away. I should think it much better if you didn't tell my family that you own the property. Then they just might content themselves with blaming me for their misfortunes. Perhaps my sisters will see to getting themselves settled in marriages as they ought, rather than looking to this brother to provide for their future.

I know this letter must seem quite strange. But I have reservations about my father's and brothers' deaths. I cannot with any certainty make accusations and cannot quite think if I should even if I had proof. Anyway, I have decided my health will thrive in the climate of the colonies and fail in my home—which doesn't feel like home any longer.

I am of course brother to those still there and ask you to not be entirely cruel, but do as you think best. Perhaps if I make my fortune in the new world, I shall return willing to extricate you from the hungry hand of the estate I have burdened you with.

I must conclude now as I am off to dinner at a local establishment. As you know, I never dine at home, other than at first, the food is much to be preferred at the Boar's Head Inn.

And you thought you had won such a prize!

Yours,

Lungren

What in the blue blazes?

William reread the letter. Did this mean that Lungren hadn't meant to kill himself? Of course it did, but had guilt over abandoning the women of his family got the better of his conscience anyway?

The more times he read the words, the more sinister they sounded. Had Lungren killed himself at all?

* * *

Tony scratched Phys's ears while the dog thumped his tail on the parquet floor. "One good thing: we shall have carpets in India, so you won't disturb any neighbors below us with all your thumping."

Carpets were hardly a reason to value an assignment in India. But there were fortunes to be made there.

Even that failed to strike an appropriate enthusiasm for his requested assignment. Tony rubbed his injured leg. It would be months before the wound was fully healed. Besides, he was a bit blue-deviled by Lungren's murder. He refused to think it had anything to do with Felicity's not accepting his gesture of bringing her lemonade. Phys whimpered and put his head in Tony's lap.

Felicity's being a widow did not matter. All he wanted from her, at most, was an affair. He wouldn't give her another opportunity to jilt him. He certainly couldn't take her with him to India. She may have wanted to see Spain at one time, but India was hot and dirty. She was obviously too elegant, too fastidious for a country like that.

While an affair was not the most gentlemanly of intentions, a discreet relationship with a widow was not unheard of. They would just have to be circumspect.

Only when Phys stopped thumping his tail did Tony realize there was knocking on his door.

"Good grief, Phys. What kind of a dog are you if you don't let me know when there is a guest?

Phys gave a halfhearted
woof.

"I know, you thought your only duty was to make me get out and walk you." Tony rose from his chair with difficulty and limped to the door. "That is what I get for naming you Physician."

Tony swung back the door and found Lieutenant Randleton. Just the man he needed to cheer him up. Much better to talk to a man instead of an uncomprehending dog. Although Randy had probably come around so early because he had news pertaining to Lungren's gambling exploits. They'd split up last night to ask around.

"Did you discover anything?" Tony stepped to the side.

"No, I didn't learn anything of significance, but Bedford has something he wishes us to see." Randy stepped inside.

Bedford stood behind him, his pleasant features twisted up tight. What was worrying him? Tony gestured him inside. "I didn't learn anything significant either."

Bedford about jumped out of his skin as Phys nudged him, as dogs were wont to do. "What in blazes is that monstrosity?"

It was unfortunate that Phys stood as tall as a small pony and was able to nudge anywhere he wished.

"Phys, sit." Tony pointed to a corner. "My dog, Physician."

Phys chose to sit where he stood, in front of the entrance, so Tony waved toward the chairs as he closed the door. Bedford edged gingerly around the dog. Phys started to follow him.

"Stay."

Phys gave Tony an objecting look and then made a sound not quite a growl, more of a good-natured protest. Tony stared him down. Phys lay down and assumed a posture reminiscent of the Sphinx, looking eagerly on the men.

"Don't even think it, Phys. Or I shall have to lock you in the bedroom."

Phys put his head down sadly on his paws. Tony limped across the floor. Bedford held out a crumpled paper. When Tony took it, Bedford gnawed on a fingernail.

"What's this?" asked Tony.

Randy moved to stand beside him and looked at the writing.

Bedford lowered his hand and stared at it half a second, as if wondering how his finger had gotten in his mouth. "A letter Lungren wrote me, apparently just before his death. Please just read it."

Tony started to read, but Bedford shifted impatiently from one foot to another. "I don't think he killed himself," he blurted out.

Tony lowered the letter. His dog seemed to be ready to shower Bedford with canine affection, so the man couldn't be a complete bastard. They might as well include him in their inquiries. He would know more about Lungren's last days than either of them. "We don't believe so, either."

"You've already read it?"

Randy and Tony exchanged a look.

"We saw the body," answered Randy.

Bedford blanched. "My God, you knew before this?"

"Suspected." Randleton was ever one to go gently.

"Strongly suspected," modified Tony.

"What—what was it about the body?"

"We've seen a few men shot," said Randy.

"No powder burns, so the pistol was not against his skin."

"Probably at least six inches to a foot away," added Randy.

"The gun had to have been pointed down." Tony put his finger against his head at the bullet's angle and pulled it away a few inches. "Hard for a man to manage that kind of shot."

Bedford looked mighty pale. He backed toward a chair. "Oh, my God!" Bedford clapped a hand over his mouth and sat, unfortunately a foot shy of the chair. From his ignoble position on the floor he whispered, "You thought I killed him."

"Obviously, I was wrong."

"You intended to kill me."

"Lady Justice thought otherwise." Tony bowed.

Phys made a mistake that any good-natured dog would make. Sure that Bedford had dropped to the floor just to play with him, the hound bounded over with a gleeful exuberance.

Bedford gave a squeak of alarm and shielded himself with his arms.

"Phys, heel!" shouted Tony. His leadership abilities were slipping if he couldn't control his own dog. "Get over here, you corkbrain."

Tony shut his slinking dog into the bedroom while Randy helped Bedford into a chair.

"What now?" asked Randy when Tony returned to the room.

"I didn't find anyone grossly wronged by Lungren on my inquiries last night," said Tony. He read the entire letter, then passed it to Randy.

"I say, have you returned the title to Lungren's estate?" asked Bedford tentatively.

"Not yet. Want it back?"

"Good God, no! Not if that is why he was killed."

"He says right here it is near worthless," pointed out Randy.

"Yes, but if someone
thinks
it is worth something, I don't wish to hold on to it."