Page 67 of Needs Must
‘You would enjoy that, I suppose.’
‘More than you could possibly know.’ Cal ground his jaw and clenched his fists, never having felt more helpless himself. ‘We could then find a way to pass the time while we wait for the old harridan to return, if that’s what you would prefer.’
‘What I would prefer doesn’t signify.’ Cal could imagine Donna waving the man’s threat away with an air of stoic indifference. ‘You will do whatever you like. Or at least you will try to. Nothing I say will make any difference.’
‘Just tell me where the letters are, and I will leave you in peace.’
‘How did you get to this cottage without coming through the village and being seen?’ Donna asked.
A very good question, Cal thought, and one he would like to know the answer to himself. If Jules’s men had relaxed their guard and allowed Harte to slip past them then there would be hell to pay. Especially if Donna did not come out of this confrontation unscathed; a possibility that could not be discounted despite Cal’s presence.
‘I knew well enough how to get here.’ His chuckle resonated with pure evil. ‘I have been here before as it happens. There is a track through your earl’s neighbour’s land, if one knows where to look.’
Cal nodded. He had used the track that Bagshott had shut off and that had caused so much upset in the district often enough himself.
‘You killed Mrs Bagshott!’ Donna cried indignantly. ‘You must be very proud of yourself.’
‘I am, as a matter of fact. Jon was all for bumping off Bagshott but I persuaded him that would not be sufficient punishment. Besides, he made it too easy by moving her to this cottage. The man is a fool and deserved all he got. You see what I mean about being useful to my wastrel of a brother? Precious little thanks I got for being the brains behind the operation.’
Cal wanted to punch the air. He had just heard Harte admit to committing murder. It was enough for him to intercede and put Donna out of her misery. And yet he hesitated, aware that she would want to hear him admit to killing her husband as well and that he would not do so in Cal’s presence. He looked down into Tom’s shocked face and placed a calming hand on the boy’s shoulder.
‘What I would very much like to know, Donna my dear ?’
‘I am not your dear, and I never will be.’ Cal could hear the disdain in Donna’s voice. ‘Let us be clear on that particular point.’
‘What I would like to know,’ Harte repeated with heavy emphasis, ‘is why you chose this cottage out of all the places in England where you could have settled. What did Jon tell you about our dealings with Bagshott? Come on, out with it. There must have been something and I don’t have all day.’
‘I don’t suppose you do. I dare say you have other helpless females to terrorise.’
Cal heard Harte’s sharp inhalation. ‘I would recommend against trying my patience,’ he said in a mordant tone.
‘How could you be so heartless?’ she asked. ‘Killing a woman who had done you no harm whatsoever and then killing a brother who had supported your wastrel lifestyle for years.’
Harte tutted. ‘You always did have such a sense of morality. And a conscience too. How blessed I myself was to be born into this world with no such burdens to hold me back,’ he said, amusement in his tone.
‘Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit. But I don’t suppose I am telling you anything that you aren’t already aware of.’
‘I am surprised to hear you make such a fuss about Jon’s death. It released you from a servitude that you despised.’ Harte paused. ‘You are aware, I suppose, that he loved you absolutely, the fool!’
‘If that’s the case then he had an odd way of showing it.’
‘He loved you, but he knew you did not return his feelings, and that infuriated him. He felt that you sat in judgement upon him and that he never lived up to your expectations. That is why he went with other women, in the hope of invoking your jealousy, but even that didn’t succeed. The poor man.’
‘I did not love or respect Jon, it’s true. Not because I thought I was better than him but because he did nothing to earn my love or respect. He treated me like a chattel rather than a wife. But that is not the point. He didn’t deserve to die, and certainly not by his own brother’s hand. And worse, you spread rumours that it was I who had killed him.’ She frowned. ‘Why would you do that?’
‘Had you not left in such a hurry you would have been aware that one or two of your servants voiced concerns about the nature of his sudden demise. I had to do something to deflect suspicion away from myself.’
‘Of course you did. I would expect nothing less of you.’
A sharp slap caused Cal to jerk forward and almost smash his face against the wall of the cottage from his uncomfortable crouch. He ignored the cramp in his calves and peeped over the sill, ready to intercept. He was astonished that Tom was able to remain silent and nodded his appreciation to the young lad. He breathed more easily when he realised that Harte, his face now as black as thunder, had punched the wall and not Donna’s face. But the threat was clear.
‘Where are my letters?’ Harte asked, his tone reverberating with subdued menace. ‘Hand them over and I shall leave you in peace to enjoy your delightful accommodation.’
‘I would love to oblige you, but I no longer have them. They are my insurance, you see. They are with my lawyer with instructions to release them to the authorities in the event that anything happens to me.’
Oh Donna!
Harte roared and Donna screamed.
