Page 18 of Too Wylde To Tame
Frederick held up the cut leather. “Just so. And I do not think either of us have to struggle to identify the culprit. He’s gone now.”
Randford nodded. “He is. He left just as we returned from the village… but I know that he stopped by the stables before departing, just moments before we all convened for our ride.”
“What reason did he give? One of your servants would have brought his horse round to him, which is much more in line with his typical way of doing things. Jameson never works harder than absolutely necessary,” Frederick mused. It wasn’t that he doubted his brother’s responsibility for what had just occurred. He knew that Jameson was more than capable of it, but he didn’t want to believe it. He wanted desperately for it to not be true.
Randford was quiet as he answered, “He said he needed a simple repair to his one of his stirrups—that the stitching of the leather had come loose. While it was being repaired, he would have had ample opportunity to tamper with your tack. The horses were already saddled and waiting for us. No one would have thought to check it again as it had been checked beforehand. It’s a diabolical scheme, really.”
It was more than just diabolical. He’d thought his brother wicked, perhaps. Selfish, certainly. He had never thought his brother truly evil, but now he was forced to question that.
Randford continued, “And had it not broken here, if we’d made it to the course on the other side of the woods, it might have had a very different outcome.”
It was a chilling thought. But it didn’t take any extraordinary intellect to see the motive behind it. He had not yet married. He had no heir other than his younger brother who would get everything upon his death. Charity wasn’t the cause, but his intentions toward her could well be the catalyst. The looming end of Jameson’s position as the heir apparent had likely spurred him on. “You’re certain he is gone?”
“Well, as certain as one can be. Why?” Randford asked.
Frederick met the other man’s gaze steadily. “Because I think he could well be a danger to Charity. This attempt on my life failed. Another one would be highly suspect. But if a tragic accident were to befall the woman I intend to marry—then that gives him time. Time to plot and scheme how best to get rid of me and claim the family holdings. It’s greed. Nothing more than greed. But it is boundless and makes him more dangerous than I had ever realized.”
Randford turned to the others, “The lot of you go on. Enjoy your ride. The groom knows the path well enough to get you there and back. I’ll see Welbey back to the house.”
When they had gone, Frederick used the stone wall to step up and mount the horse. Riding bareback was not something he enjoyed, but he was capable of it. It was a damn sight better than walking the mile back to the house. He needed to warn Charity. He needed her to know just how dangerous his brother could apparently be.
TWELVE
Cordelia had accompanied her downstairs to greet Marguerite upon her arrival. As always, their aunt was somewhat dramatic. She dramatically bemoaned the rigors of travel but insisted, loudly for all to hear, that any discomfort or inconvenience was well worth it to attend what was sure to be recorded as a party for the ages.
She had just finished that speech when two riders approached. Instantly Charity knew them. It was Phinneas and beside him was Frederick. Riding without the benefit of a saddle. The closer he came the more she realized that something was wrong. When they were near enough for her to see him clearly, she gasped. His clothes were dirty, likely from having fallen or having been thrown from his horse. And there was blood, now dried, smeared on his forehead.
“What on earth has happened?” She murmured the question aloud, heedless of others around her. Immediately, Cordelia and Marguerite turned their attention to the approaching riders.
“Is the Viscount injured?” Marguerite asked. “While I certainly would not wish harm to befall him, I will not trouble myself over him either. He treated you very badly, Charity. That your kindness allows you to have concern for him after that is a testament to your character.” The last of it was stated far more firmly than necessary, almost as if there was an order in it.
“There are things you do not know, Aunt Marguerite,” Cordelia said. “And they involve not only Viscount Welbey, but his scoundrel of a brother. Come inside and I will explain. Charity will come along after she’s assured herself that the Viscount is well.” While the words and tone were not sharp, there was a firmness in Cordelia’s suggestions that could not be denied. After a brief hesitation, Marguerite did as her youngest niece had said and they disappeared through the heavy oaken doors of Randford House.
Charity didn’t wait for him to reach her. Instead she took one step forward, then another. Each subsequent step became faster than the last until she was almost running towards him. He dismounted quickly as she reached him.
“I’m quite alright. It isn’t nearly so bad as it looks.”
“What happened?” Charity asked.
“A saboteur,” Phinneas replied. “Lord Jameson, to be exact.”
“He frayed the girth so that it would fail while I was riding,” Frederick explained. “But I’m unhurt. Truly. A few bruises and a bit of a scrape, but otherwise hale and hearty.”
Charity shook her head in dismay as they began to walk back to the house. Phinneas had dismounted, as well, and while he kept them in sight, he provided enough distance to allow for private conversation. “Why would he do this, Frederick? Surely it must be more than petty jealousy.”
“There is nothing petty about his jealousy. It’s festered inside him for a very long time, I think. But you made a very clear choice, and it was a choice seen by everyone here… coupled with his own bad behavior which resulted in this morning’s disgrace, it was too much. He has, for whatever misguided reason, always placed his troubles at my feet. As if our birth order rather than our character determined what sort of lives we would have.”
“He resents you for having the title,” she surmised.
Frederick shook his head. “He resents me for having the fortune. I think it is more that than the title which spawned his jealousy. And I would share the fortune with him as much as I am permitted to with all the various entails. But his gambling and his hedonistic lifestyle would bankrupt us within only a few years… By all accounts, Jameson has left for London. But if he’s willing to commit murder, he’d hardly balk at telling a lie. There’s a possibility he could still be lurking nearby.”
“You are still in danger then.”
“As are you,” he said pointedly.
Charity was instantly in denial. “Why on earth would I be in danger from him?”
“Because… I haven’t asked you to be my wife—not yet. But he knows, surely as everyone else here does, that is my intent. And taking a wife puts me one step closer to having an heir. And when I have an heir, his very last chance to claim all the family’s holdings is obliterated.”
