Page 86 of Temptress in Disguise
“You know the plan. We’re securing your inheritance and ridding ourselves of those who mean to hurt us. You swore to obey your husband. Now, be quiet and let me deal with this matter.”
Lydia gave a relieved sigh. “Can we not call the magistrate and have him take Melissa into custody? I’m not sure why you need to keep us all locked in this filthy room. I swear I saw a mouse. And the chaise is damp and smells of brandy.”
Mr Adams’ stern expression softened. “You’re in here for your own safety. We’ve spent months plotting revenge. Don’t forsake me now. We need to tie up the loose ends and be on the ship tomorrow as planned. Our solicitor will take care of the rest.”
So, theywereleaving England?
She supposed it was the only way they’d escape the noose.
“Months? You’ve spent at least a year planning this,” Naomi countered. More if one considered how long he’d been manipulating George Budworth.
Lydia shot her an irate look. “Be quiet, Naomi. Stop twisting the facts. I met Edwin eight months ago. We wrote to each other secretly until he convinced me it was better to leave Hartford Hall.”
“You cannot escape your fate. They will convict you of murder in your absence.” She hoped to make Lydia see that Mr Adams was orchestrating events to suit his own purpose. “A fugitive cannot inherit.” She wasn’t sure where the law stood on such matters. All she cared about was rousing doubt in her sister’s mind.
But Lydia clenched her teeth and hissed, “When this is over, I’ve a good mind to lock you away in an asylum. It’s not normal for a lady to be so obsessed with murder.”
Despite Mr Adams’ warning glare, Naomi pressed her case. “Then answer me one question, Lydia. Whose house is this?”
Lydia raised her gaze heavenward. “Obviously it’s Edwin’s house. He’s had a terrible time keeping servants. That’s why it’s in such a state of disrepair. He means to sell it and move into Hartford Hall.”
Good Lord! Their father must be turning in his grave.
Naomi locked eyes with Mr Adams. The man was a picture of smugness. No wonder he got on so well with Lydia.
Melissa spoke up, keen to correct the misconception. “This house belongs to Henry Holland. He’s been in India these past twelve months. It’s obvious why he left.” She screwed up her nose as she scanned the filthy room. “He’ll die of apoplexy when he learns his beloved home is in such a dreadful state. Doubtless you scared away his servants.”
Mr Adams grinned. “This is my house, Melissa. Mr Holland left it to me in his will. It was the least he could do. I almost drowned because of him.”
Melissa’s eyes widened in horror. She started shaking, first her hands, then her whole body. “Henry is dead? You killed him?”
“You persuaded him to club me over the head and push me into the Thames. I’d have died had George Budworth not been enjoying a dalliance with a dockside wench.”
“Thank heavens for your brother,” Lydia said.
Naomi wondered if the stressful events had affected Lydia’s brain. She appeared a little deranged. “Mr Holland is in the crypt along with the housekeeper.”
A sob caught in Melissa’s throat. “So he is dead. I thought it strange he only mentioned his trip to India once he’d left.”
While Melissa dashed tears from her eyes, Mr Adams marched into the hall. She heard the loud scraping sound before he appeared, lugging the crude coffin into the drawing room.
“Holland liked playing with fire.” He beckoned his coachman into the room, an evil-looking fellow with bulging eyes, and instructed him to pour the contents of his hip flask over the casket. “What say we honour him with a funeral pyre?”
The gravity of the situation was not lost on Naomi.
It did not take a genius to determine what Mr Adams planned to do. He’d proven he enjoyed using fire as a method of torture.
Naomi glanced around the room. The chaise did indeed smell like someone had emptied a bottle of brandy over the red damask. The outside shutters were closed, blocking the light and the most obvious means of escape. No one could identify the dead from a pile of charred bones. The only thing to do now was find a way to flee before Mr Adams torched the casket.
“Wait outside in the carriage, Lydia.” Mr Adams didn’t give her time to obey his command but asked his coachman to escort her out. “We’ll be leaving shortly.”
It would seem Mr Adams still needed Lydia.
“What about Naomi?” Lydia tried to wrestle her arm from the rogue’s grasp. “She’s coming with us. We agreed to rescue her from Mr Chance’s evil clutches.”
Mother have mercy! How blind could one be?
“Wake up, Lydia. He’s going to raze the house to the ground and get rid of the evidence.” She hoped to shatter her sister’s illusions. “It’s too late to save us. You made a pact with the devil. You made the mistake of shutting me out.”
