Page 76 of The Villain's Fatal Plot
The captain studied the inn’s thatch and the still smoldering torch. “You’d have lost the inn, but there might have been time to escape. It would have been useful to interrogate him.”
Rafe shook his head vehemently. “The bastard emptied oil over the floors in the upper story, then for good measure, broke bottles of that alcoholic elixir. Heat from just a fireplace might ignite the fumes. That’s how he blew up Verity’s home.”
“Barrels of whale oil,” she murmured against his chest. “Uncle Warren claimed he was saving money by buying barrels of oil from a company going bankrupt. He stored them all over the house, for convenience, he said.”
Rafe held her closer, wishing he could erase the horror of her memory by running his hands up and down her back, but he did not have the right to even hold her like this. For this brief moment out of time, he absorbed the pleasure of the rise and fall of her breasts and her racing heartbeat. She was alive, no thanks to her villainous uncle.
Captain Hunt practically growled as he studied the inn. “We’d better start scrubbing it down then. No lanterns or fires until we do.”
The librarian took the curate’s arm and the pair departed, whispering. Rafe assumed they’d take charge of the body. He needed to take charge of cleaning the inn, but he couldn’t bear to let Verity go.
Hunt’s wife decided for him, tapping Rafe’s hands so he’drelease... the young lady, not a widow. “I’ll take Verity up to the manor. A bit of brandy and sleep will help. Some.”
He didn’t have the right to kiss her hair as he’d seen the lieutenant do with his lady wife. Reluctantly, Rafe released her. Verity cast him a glance he couldn’t interpret, then obediently followed Mrs. Huntley.
It would be a very long night.
“You may want to regain control of your arsenal.” Rafe addressed Hunt, nodding toward the shadows slipping back up the drive. “I’m fairly certain your librarian was carrying a pistol and your housekeeper had a blunderbuss.”
The captain snorted. “Clare had a rapier. I don’t know what the devil she thought she could do with it.”
“On the Continent, we used them for cooking vermin.” Without another glance at the roasted corpse in the dirt, Rafe strode back to the inn to begin pumping water and restoring order. That, he knew how to do.
What he meant to do about Verity... required planning, a technique he had not mastered but hoped to learn.
Instinct might save his life, but it wouldn’t win a woman’s heart. He’d lived an aimless existence until now. With a worthy goal in sight, he’d learn to strategize.
TUESDAY
FORTY-FOUR: VERITY
The next morning,Verity sat on her manor guest bed, stroking Marmi, reluctant to go downstairs where people were indubitably discussing the prior evening’s horrors. She didn’t particularly understand her reluctance. She simply knew she never wished to think about last night, ever.
She was hiding again, yes.
She wondered if she might slip down to the inn and fix herself eggs. She knew how to do that. Would Rafe let her stay in one of the rooms until she knew what to do next?
She couldn’t know what to do until she talked to solicitors, apparently. And the manor occupants were the ones who knew about solicitors and wills and estates and... so many things she hadn’t learned about while she cowered from the world in her cellar. She’d sold all her father’s legal tomes as too boring to comprehend.
A knock on her bedchamber door dragged her from her torpor.
“Verity? We need you downstairs, please. The heirs have written, and the Prescotts have left a letter, and Hunt wants to torture Mrs. Clement until she talks. It’s becoming a little desperate.” Minerva spoke through the closed panel.
She liked the librarian. She didn’t want to cause her any trouble. Reluctantly, Verity tucked Marmie in her apron pocket and unlocked the door. “I didn’t know whether to wear black again.”
“Don’t,” Minerva said firmly. “You cannot possibly be related to a toad. The bronze is respectful. That’s all that is necessary. Have you eaten? We can take a tray into the library where you won’t be interrogated until you’re ready.”
A toad. Verity almost smiled at this description of her uncle. All her life, she’d tried to mind her mother’s memory and be respectful, but the rude appellation appealed. Perhaps experience taught that not everyone deserved respect. She’d work out the dividing line some other time, preferably after breakfast.
Some while later, fortified by one of Lady Elsa’s generous meals and Minerva’s discussion of schoolbooks and students, Verity was better prepared when Captain Huntley entered the library. With him, he brought a dark-haired man in frockcoated attire carrying a portfolio of papers.
Hunt greeted her with a curt nod. “Miss Porter, I must send a report to assizes with the Clements. I need to clarify a number of issues before I’ll be satisfied that I’ve covered all the angles. This is Garret Browning III, a solicitor from Stratford who handles our affairs. He has been helping us locate information on your father’s death and estate, and he is also conferring with Mr. Culliver, Miss Edgerton’s solicitor. Browning, this is Miss Palmer, who prefers not to use her family name.”
The gentleman bowed to her as if she were a lady. Verity didn’t know whether to stand or offer her hand or the proper etiquette at all. It had been so very long... Relying on memories of her mother, she smiled, nodded, and remained seated, stroking Marmie in her lap.
“Once we have established all proprieties, proof of your identity, verification of your uncle’s death, and so forth, we will arrange to have your father’s funds transferred to your name on the date of your birth, per his wishes.” The solicitor set the portfolio in front of her, as if she had any notion what to do with it. “Ifear any amendments to the original will were lost, which is why your uncle continued as your trustee.”
“Not that it matters any longer,” Minerva said carelessly, “but we have scraps of paper that show Verity’s father meant to cut his brother out. What we would like to know is how Miss Edgerton came by them and if they had anything to do with her death.”
