Page 3 of Her Magnificent Mistake
Now it was Marcia’s turn to tap the envelope against the desk thoughtfully. Talking things over with Bull was better than reading some secretary’s scratching handwriting anyway.
“The first Baron died childless. His younger brother inherited.”
She knew the details better than her brother did, but Bull nodded anyhow and picked up the tale. “And whenhekeeled over while riding, their uncle inherited.”
“The most recent dead man had a son and two daughters, but the son died years ago,” she supplied.
“When he was barely more than a lad,” Bull finished. “Sad, but likely not murder—at least, no’ related to this spate. No’ unless our—the murderer wasincrediblygood at planning. And fortune telling.”
Marcia nodded along, always enjoying the way she and her brother worked together. “There was no evidence of foul play. The most recent Baron was rotund, a heavy drinkerandsmoker. Possibly he just died of his excess?”
“Or an excess of poison,” Bull added grimly.
“Again, no evidence.”
Her brother sighed and scrubbed a hand through his too-long auburn hair. “What is it ye say? If there’s naehow, but there’s awhy, we should investigate?” He nodded to the envelope in her hand. “That’s what the Crown believes too.”
“I suppose I do not have to ask thewhy. Suspicion falls on the heir, I assume. The next one. The new Baron Tostinham. But lastI heard, his name had not been announced because one of the daughters petitioned for the holding.”
“Nay, it’s been too chaotic.” Bull shook his head grimly. “But the Crown kens. And aye, the puir bastard is our suspect. She—my contact is certain he is guilty. She wants us to get close to him, figure out how he did it.”
“Ifhe did it,” Marcia corrected.
To her surprise, her brother’s gray gaze turned tortured for a moment, before he turned back to face the hearth once more. “Howhe did it,” he muttered.
Bull seemed certain, which meant the Princess was certain. After all, their silent patroness, the Princess Louise, was an intelligent woman.
Frowning thoughtfully, Marcia set to work opening the letter. “Who is it, this heir?”
It wasn’t until she had the letter—yes, it was full of scratchy handwriting, as she’d feared—opened and ready to read that she realized her brother hadn’t answered.
She lifted her gaze to him, more concerned with the way he was acting than the identity of their suspect.
Bull’s brows were drawn in, his stormy gaze locked on the hearth. There was…something…
“Bull?”
Her brother squeezed his eyes shut, then turned to her and straightened. When he opened his eyes, the regret—and anger—in his gray gaze shot right to her heart.
“It’s Hawk,” he announced dully. “Hawk is our murderer.”
The letter—chicken scratch and all—fluttered to the desk as Marcia’s arms went numb.Allof her went numb, the shock chilling. She stared across the desk, eyes wide, lips unable to form any words.
Hawk.
Maxwell Hawthorne, known as Hawk to his very closest friends.
Maxwell Hawthorne, apparently the new Baron Tostinham.
Maxwell Hawthorne, her brother’s best friend.
Maxwell Hawthorne, her first—and only—love.
The man whose guilt the Crown had just ordered them to prove.
“Oh no,” Marcia whispered.Oh no.
CHAPTER 1
