Page 15 of The Secret of the Three Fates
Mr. Owen frowned, pouring himself a drink from his cut crystal decanter. “A bit.”
“What do you make of it?” Ruan asked me—and I spotted it at once—that familiar flicker of excitement in his eyes. I’d noticed it in Cornwall when we worked together to find Sir Edward’s killer. Ruan Kivell enjoyed a puzzle nearly as much as I did. “It was all the talk at the train station this morning.” He went on. “Then I overheard the inspector questioning a young girl—dressed all in pink—the one that looks like a strawberry tart.”
I let out a startled laugh. “That’s Lady Amelia. I swear she must have the corner on the pink fabric market. It’s enough to make one ill. Her mother is Lady Morton. Awful woman.”
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the brown wool of his trousers. “They’re saying the old woman killed herself. Is that so?” He looked from me to Mr. Owen.
So,thatbit of news had not traveled yet. I checked over my shoulder to ensure I’d closed my own door before resting my hip on the arm of Mr. Owen’s chair. “I’m afraid it’s worse than that. I was speaking with Captain Lennox this morning…”
Ruan drew in a sharp breath, his eyes widening slightly at the name. How very odd.
“Andy’s still here? I’d have thought he’d have gone home by now. What did he have to say? You didn’t mention him last night,” Mr. Owen said with surprise.
“We had coffee earlier. He agrees she was murdered before being pushed into the lake.”
“What do youmean,murdered?” Mr. Owen growled, turning to face me full-on. “You told me yourself last night that you found her in the lake drowned. But I still cannot understand why she was out there at all. Or what possessed you to wander the grounds late at night. And on a full moon.”
I hesitated, dragging my locket along the chain at my neck. “She was waiting for me.”
“The devil?” Mr. Owen’s expression darkened. “What do you mean she was waiting for you? I insist you tell me everything, right this instant. No more of this running about trying to figure things out on your own. I won’t have you risking your neck and certainly nothereof all places.”
I held up a finger and darted back to my room, returning with the note she’d left me, and handed it to him. “Do you have any idea what to make of that?”
Mr. Owen unfolded the paper and read it to himself, before handing the page to Ruan.
“Why does she think I’m in danger?” I longed to ask him what they’d been discussing in here the day she died, or to ask who Mariah was and how the two women were connected, but there would be time enough to ask him all these questions later.
Mr. Owen’s eyes grew cloudy as he stared at the paper in Ruan’s fingers. “You must tell no one of this, Ruby. Do you understand me?”
“Why?”
He slammed his fist on the table, glasses rattling. “Because Isaid so. You shall not pursue this. You shall not meet anyone on bridges. You shall not—”
“Ishalldo as I please, Mr. Owen. I am not your child to command!” I snapped back. “And it’s a fine thing for you to tell me who I shall and shall not meet when you were meeting with her yourself in this very room and lied to me. You lied to me.Again.” The words burnt, but they were true, and he needed to hear them.
His eyes widened. “How do you—”
“Because I’m not a fool. I smelled her perfume in here. Now will you tell me why? And for that matter why your brother was also with you the very night she was killed, storming out of here with murder on his face? I know you do not like speaking of your past, but you are going to have to tell us the truth. Even the unsavory bits.”
Mr. Owen closed his eyes and shook his head. “Malachi would not harm her. He’s angry, but harmless. He cared for Lucy, in his way.”
I arched a brow. “He seemed rather capable of murder last night.”
Mr. Owen pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. “Ruby… there is only one person in all of Scotland that my brother wishes dead and that is me. Lucy had nothing to fear from him.”
Something in his tone gave me pause.
Ruan cleared his throat, interrupting our little spat. “Owen said you found the body. Did you see anyone else last night, anyone at all when you were out there?” Ruan ran his wide palms over his trousers, smoothing the fabric.
Grateful for the interruption, I shook my head. “Not a soul, I am beginning to wonder if Lucy was bringing everyone here for a reason. Do you have the letter she wrote you at first? I want to look at it.”
Mr. Owen stood, rummaging around in his valise and pulled out the folded letter, handing it to me. I opened it, comparingthe two and laid the two pages down side by side. “They don’t match.”
Mr. Owen and Ruan leaned closer, both studying the script on the pages.
“Not at all.” Ruan mused. “These were written by two different people, but who… and why?”
Bile rose in my throat as I remembered my missing coat and shoes. I folded up both letters and tucked them into my pocket. “Thatisthe question.”
