"G.o.d."

"What did you care?" the man was now ranting. "You had money, you had power. 'Course you got away with it. And now you're back, never a lick of punshi-punch-punishment for what you done to Rosie. She never hurt n.o.body. n.o.body. Just fell in love with the likes of you."

"I a.s.sure you, Childs, Rose was not in love with me. I had nothing to do with her death. Whoever she was talking about, it was not I."

"Sure," the man returned scornfully. "There bein' so many 'gentlemen' around here. 'Twas one of the others."

"Or someone who convinced her that he was."

Childs snorted. "No. It was you, all right, and I'm going ta see that ya pay for it. My Rosie's been lying in her grave thirty years now, cryin' out for justice. And I'm goin' to get it for her."

"This is not the way," Sebastian Rutherford began. "You will only get in trouble yourself. Think, man. What will happen to your mother and your farm if you get arrested for murdering a peer of the realm? Do you think they will go easy on you?"

"Not likely," Childs snorted. "The likes o' me they'll throw in jail, good and proper. It's only high-and-mighty ones like 'im what get away with it."

"That is my point exactly. It will do you no good."

"It will ease my mind!" he roared back at Rutherford. "It will b.l.o.o.d.y well ease my mind."

As the two men talked, Bryan bent and whispered in Priscilla's ear, "When I give you the signal, pick up a figure and crash it on the floor, then duck down immediately behind the breakfront." He jerked his head toward the ma.s.sive piece of furniture beside him, on which stood various ornamental figures and vases.

She nodded her understanding. He slid silently down the hall, creeping behind the man until he was past the door. For an instant, Ranleigh's eyes flickered past his accuser to his son, then immediately back.

Childs raised his other hand to the one that held the pistol, steadying it as he took aim. Ranleigh faced him expressionlessly.

"At least do not put these other people at risk, Childs," Ranleigh said. "You cannot want to murder innocent people. Let them leave."

"And have them walking between you and me to the door? I ain't as stupid as you think, Your Grace."

"Then allow Mr. Rutherford and Lady Chalcomb to move away from me."

"All right." Childs jerked his head to the side. "You can move, my lady. You, too, Mr. Rutherford. Neither one of ya deserve to die, and he's right. My aim ain't too good tonight."

"Certainly not," Rutherford retorted. "I am not budging. Although Lady Chalcomb should-"

"Wait," that lady said firmly, stepping forward. "Mr. Childs, I cannot let you do this. You would be making a grave error."

"Anne!" Ranleigh snapped. "Don't say anything else."

"I am not going to let this man kill you just to save my reputation, Damon," the lady replied coolly, all the while keeping her eyes on the man with the gun. "Mr. Childs, do you know me to be a truthful woman?"

"Why, yes, my lady," the man answered, looking thoroughly confused. "Everyone knows that. There is none better than you."

"Thank you. Then will you believe me when I tell you that I know for a fact that Ranleigh did not kill your sister?"

His mouth twisted into a grimace. "How could you know that, my lady? You wasn't there."

"No, I was not there when your sister was murdered. But I was with Ranleigh. At my home. The whole evening and night."

Priscilla stared, her mouth dropping open, and the porcelain figure she had picked up from the breakfront slid nervelessly out of her hand.

The resulting crash startled everyone out of their immobility. Childs jumped and whirled, the pistol dropping from his hand. It went off with a loud retort, sending a bullet straight into the ma.s.sive breakfront beside Priscilla. Bryan, who had been listening with the same attentiveness as everyone else to Anne's confession, cursed and jumped forward, grabbing Childs and bringing one of his arms up sharply behind his back.

"d.a.m.n it!" Bryan barked at Priscilla. "I didn't give you the signal."

Priscilla came out of her shock and sent him a withering glance. She walked forward and bent to pick up the pistol from the floor. "Apparently it was not necessary."

The drawing room was filled with a babel of voices as Damon strode forward and clasped Anne in a long embrace.

"QUITE A GIRL, BRYAN," Ranleigh said sometime later, after most of the other guests had left. Even Alec was not there, having gone with the general to take Mr. Childs to the constable. Only the Duke and his son, Anne, Rutherford and Priscilla were gathered in the smaller, less formal drawing room.

The Duke raised his snifter of brandy to Priscilla in a salute, then took a drink and said in an aside to Bryan, "I approve of your choice."

Priscilla felt too giddy with relief and the aftermath of the excitement to even summon up a twinge of anger at Bryan for having told his father she was his choice for a wife.

Damon then looked at Anne, standing beside him, and hugged her to his side. "And this dear lady here rather took away the surprise from the announcement we had planned to make. Lady Chalcomb has consented to be my wife."

"Oh, Anne!" Priscilla went to her friend and hugged her as Bryan and Rutherford offered their congratulations to the Duke. "I am so happy for you. You look absolutely radiant."

She spoke the truth; she was very happy for Anne. But she could not help but wonder about Mr. Rutherford, whom she had often thought had more than a little interest in Lady Chalcomb. It must be hard for him, but she could not tell it from his face.

Anne answered with a smile that demonstrated the truth of Priscilla's compliment. "Thank you. It is a dream come true-something I had no hope of ever doing."

Damon went on grimly, "That's why it is even more important to me to prove that I did not kill Rose Childs thirty years ago. I don't want Anne to have to reveal the truth in front of the whole county-any more than Bryan wishes to marry that way."

"Uh, excuse me, but Bryan is not-" Priscilla began.

Bryan broke into Priscilla's words, drowning her out. "Priscilla and I were talking about your investigation earlier this evening, Father. Weren't we, Priscilla?" He raced on without giving her a chance to respond. "How you plan to prove Evesham did it."

"Evesham!" Rutherford exclaimed. "That popinjay? You think he killed Rose?"

"Who else?" Damon pointed out. "There are not many choices. Evesham would certainly be the type to woo an innocent servant girl, hinting at marriage."

"He is low," Rutherford agreed. "Still, it sounds too forceful for Evesham."

"You know this Evesham?" Bryan asked Rutherford.

"Oh, yes, we all went to school together. In fact, I believe Evesham was here with us that holiday from school, was he not?"

Damon nodded. "Yes. He had the opportunity."

"But why do you have to find out who killed the poor girl?" Rutherford asked. "Now that Anne has...revealed where you were."

"I am hopeful that the people who were here tonight will not spread that fact around. They are good people, our friends, and I think they will not use it as gossip fodder."

"But if we tell them it is all right to reveal it-" Anne began.

"Do you want your name bandied about all over the county? I do not. It is not my wish to rescue my name by having yours trampled in the mud. I don't want them to spread it about. If it did get out, there would still be those who will say you lied because you love me. After all, we will be married soon. Or they will say that I bought your lie by promising marriage. The only way to completely clear my name is to find the real killer." He sighed. "Besides, that poor wretch who came here tonight deserves to have the murder cleared up."

"He tried to kill you!"

"He was distraught...and drunk. Obviously he loved his sister, and it must have been a torment all this time to think that his sister's murderer got away with it. He deserves to know the truth. And Rose-don't you think it would only be fair to Rose to expose the real killer?"

Anne sighed. "I suppose. But I am afraid you will put yourself in danger, looking for him."

"What if you could find the rubies in Evesham's possession?" Priscilla asked. It was a subject she had been thinking about for some time.

Rutherford looked startled. "You think he would still have them? Wouldn't he have gotten rid of them?"

Ranleigh shook his head decisively. "I don't think so. They would have been hard to sell. They were quite well-known. It was a very old and distinctive piece. He could have taken the gems out and sold them to be cut up into smaller pieces, but it would have meant a huge loss of money. I think he would have decided to wait and let it die down, then someday sell the necklace as a piece. Or simply keep it. After all, at that time, he was thinking that he would be the next heir if I were executed for murder. A Duke of Ranleigh would never sell that piece. I'm not sure that any Aylesworth would, even Evesham. He was quite proud, you know. By the same token, I am certain he could not have borne to throw it away. All that wealth? All the family ties? I think he would have kept it."

"Evesham likes beautiful things," Anne put in.

"You know him well?" Damon asked.

She shook her head. "Not well. I have seen very little of him the past few years. But he and Lord Chalcomb were friends. They had...certain interests in common. I saw him now and then when my husband was alive. He admired some of the old tapestries at Chalcomb Hall and some ornamental pieces that had belonged to Lord Chalcomb's mother. In fact, I believe he purchased a chess set done in black and white marble from me after Harry's death."

"If he kept the necklace, it would be proof that he was the one who committed the murder, would it not?" Priscilla asked, bringing the conversation back to her original question.

Damon nodded. "I think it would certainly cast suspicion on him. The problem would be proving that he has it."

"We would have to search his home. That is the only method I can think of," Priscilla said.

"Sneak in in the middle of the night?" Anne asked, looking shocked. "Priscilla-that is a crime!"

"Of course it is, but it is hardly as bad as murder. Besides, we won't sneak in in the middle of the night. What I propose is to do it in the evening. The servants will be down in the servants' quarters, because their work will be finished. There will have been no dinner for Evesham that night, because he will not have been there."

"And how have you determined that, Miss Hamilton?" Bryan asked her, his eyes twinkling, enjoying the faintly bemused expressions on his father's and Mr. Rutherford's faces.

"Why, because he will have been invited to dinner here."

"Indeed?" Damon murmured.

"Yes. You will invite him over-a gesture of friendship, reconciliation and so forth. He is bound to accept. If nothing else, he will be curious about what you look like and what kind of life you have led since leaving England. Bryan-that is, the Marquess-and I will enter his house very quietly and search it. You will keep Evesham here all evening, even ask him to stay the night, because of the lateness of the hour."

"An excellent idea," Bryan agreed. "How soon can you invite him, Father?"

Damon stared at him in amazement. "As soon as I write a note to him, and he accepts. I can invite him for...say, next Sat.u.r.day. That should give him enough time to reply. But, Bryan, surely you are not going to agree to Miss Hamilton doing something so dangerous as breaking into his house with you?"

"Oh." An odd look crossed Bryan's face. He was frankly looking forward to the idea of going there with Priscilla. He had not even thought about the danger to her any more than he would have for himself. "Well, uh, Father, Miss Hamilton is different from most young ladies. She will be a help, not a hindrance, and...um, I am not sure I could keep her from going, anyway."

Priscilla nodded, satisfaction warming her at Bryan's acceptance of her competence. "He's right. He could not. He will need me to take him to Evesham's house. Also, I can identify the necklace if we find it. I have seen it in paintings. Bryan, on the other hand, has no idea what it looks like."

"Alec can go with him. He knows those things, too," Damon responded, in a voice that usually meant the end of any discussion.

Priscilla seemed not to notice the authority in his voice. "Alec is young and impetuous, far more likely to get all of us in trouble. Anyway, he is departing tomorrow for the army."

Damon frowned, silent for a moment. "Yes, you're right. The logical thing is for me to go. Neither Bryan nor you should be placed in jeopardy."

"Then who is going to invite your cousin over for dinner? It would look rather odd for Bryan to do it and for you not to even attend."

The Duke's jaw set in irritation. "Forget the dinner invitation. I shall simply enter his house one night and search it."

"No!" Anne cried, stepped forward and putting her hand on his arm. "I won't let you do that. It is far more dangerous. Priscilla's plan is the best, and I am sure that she and Bryan will do an excellent job. Why, you were telling me just this afternoon of all the adventures Bryan had gotten into and out of."

"I know, but placing a girl in danger...it doesn't set well with me."

"Nor me, Damon," Mr. Rutherford added. "The whole thing strikes me as too dangerous."

"I will take care of Priscilla," Bryan a.s.sured the older men, his eyes twinkling.

Damon sighed. "All right. That is our plan, then. I will write to Evesham tonight and invite him for dinner this Sat.u.r.day. Sebastian, you come that night, also, and we shall keep him occupied all evening with billiards or reminiscences about the old days. And you two will find whatever evidence you can."

"Agreed." Bryan smiled down at Priscilla, thinking of the hours he would get to spend alone with her.

THE PLAN PROCEEDED SMOOTHLY. Ranleigh wrote a note of invitation to his cousin, and Evesham replied quickly that he would love to attend. On the appointed night, Bryan left the Court before Evesham arrived and rode across the fields to Evermere Cottage, leading a horse for Priscilla. They had decided that riding would be the faster way to Evesham's house, and if they happened to cross his path on the road as he was going to Ranleigh Court, it would be less likely that he would recognize Bryan, whom he did not know at all, and Priscilla, whom he knew only slightly, than that he would recognize the ducal carriage, if they went in that. Priscilla, who had never ridden much, dug out her mother's old habit, which did, she had to admit, look quite dashing on her, and hoped that Bryan would be true to his word and bring her a gentle mare.

The ride over was uneventful, though rather long. They pa.s.sed by Evesham's house and left the road to disappear into the trees a short way past the drive. They wound their way through the trees until they were almost even with the house, then hobbled their horses and walked under the cover of the trees to the house. They were lucky in that, while an empty field lay on the other side of the house, on this side the trees grew down almost to the garden.

It was dusk when they reached the edge of the trees, and they sat down just within the wood to wait for dark to settle completely. It was difficult to wait with patience. Priscilla felt as if excitement were fizzing inside her. She glanced over at Bryan and saw the same excitement reflected in his eyes. If there was anything better than having an adventure, she thought, it was having it with the man you loved by your side.

Was this what marriage with Bryan would be like? He had told her that he traveled to places all over the world, solving problems for his father's business. Would she get to help him solve them, get to travel to all those places she had always yearned to see and had resigned herself to never getting an opportunity to visit?

She thought of being with him, sharing not only his bed but also his adventures, and suddenly it seemed too great a sacrifice to make to refuse to marry him. Perhaps, if she gave up writing, no one would ever find out that Eliot Pruett, who had written only two books, since forgotten, was the same person as the future d.u.c.h.ess of Ranleigh. But that, too, seemed an unbearable thing to have to give up. Besides, what kind of marriage would it be if they started it out with such a lie between them?

Bryan reached across and touched her arm, startling her. He pointed toward the house, a dark shape in the even darker night, and said in a low voice, "Time to go."

Priscilla nodded and put aside her thoughts as she followed Bryan out of the trees. They hurried across the open s.p.a.ce and into the garden that lay beside the house. They threaded their way through the crushed-rock paths of the garden and up to the side of the house. Most of the windows were dark. Bryan tried each one; all of them were locked. They slipped around to the front of the house, then the other side, and there they found a French door unlocked. Turning the k.n.o.b, Bryan stepped inside, then motioned for Priscilla to follow him.

They stood for a moment, waiting for their eyes to adjust to the room, which was even darker than the outside. Finally they saw a faint light beneath the doors on the other side of the room. It was a large room, floored with stone, and there were dark shapes all around them that Priscilla finally realized were plants. They were in a conservatory, it seemed.

Making their way cautiously around the plants, they reached the door, and Priscilla eased it open. Beyond lay a hall, dimly lit. It appeared to be empty, so Priscilla opened the door farther and stuck her head out. They were about halfway down the hall. At the rear end was a small staircase, obviously a servants' stairway. The hall ran in the other direction, toward the front of the house. Priscilla thought that the back of the house was more dangerous, for it was there that they were most likely to run into a servant. With the master out and the day over, the servants should be congregating in the kitchen or the housekeeper's sitting room, and the front of the house should stand empty.

She slipped out of the door and made her way along the hall toward the front, walking on tiptoe to avoid making any sound on the wooden floor. She felt extremely exposed; her heart was pounding in her chest. The only thing that kept her from turning and fleeing was Bryan's presence right behind her. She couldn't let him see how scared she was.

They made it to the front of the house and up the grand staircase, which was even more frightening, to the second floor. It was there that the bedrooms lay. Priscilla and Bryan had discussed what they would do at some length, and had decided that they would search Evesham's bedroom first, as it seemed the most likely place for a person to hide something.

Upstairs, they checked several doors before they found one room that was larger than the others and appeared to be lived in. They closed and locked the door behind them, and Priscilla felt far safer. Curiously, it was then that she felt as if her knees might give way beneath her. Bryan wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her, and leaned down to kiss her head.

"The worst is over," he whispered.

Priscilla smiled back gratefully, wondering how he had known the way she felt. They lit a candle and began a thorough search of the room in the dim light. They went through every drawer, careful not to mess up the neatly folded articles of clothing. Priscilla found two promising boxes, but there turned out to be a diamond stickpin in one and several loose calling cards in the other. Bryan opened the small jewelry box on the highboy and searched through the tie pins and cuff links on the off chance that Evesham had been brazen enough to hide the jewels there. He also looked under the bed and behind the various pictures, searching for a hidden safe, then checked out the small attached dressing room, while Priscilla rifled all the drawers. Bryan even tapped softly along the walls, looking for a spot that sounded hollow.

"What are you doing?" Priscilla whispered. "Stop knocking on the walls. Someone will hear you."

"Father told me that he faintly remembered Evesham bragging when they were children that he had a hiding place in the house. He thought that if it were true, it might be where he hid the jewelry."

"Then the most likely place for that would be in the nursery, wouldn't it?"