Page 44 of The Mistletoe Countess
He opened his mouth to contradict her accusations but couldn’t. She was right. He hadn’t been forthright with the possible threats because he hadn’t been sure of them himself.
“Which means they’ll try to kill me too. And if the scenario follows with the usual story line, I’ll be the first one to die, because murderers rarely get things right the first time.” Her eyebrows shot high, her lips still trembling. “Have you readUnder the Italian Sun?It took the killer three attempts before he finally killed the right person.”
Perhaps her imagination had taken an exaggerated turn, but she made her point painfully clear. He’d put her in danger once he’d made her his wife.
“Lucky for both of us, I know how to swim.” She shook her head and turned back to the fire, rubbing her hands together. “Lillias hasn’t the faintest idea, so if you’d married her—”
She looked up at him, the realization sobering their argument to dust.
“Patton would have drowned.”
“And possibly my sister,” Grace whispered, her bottom lip suddenly adding another tremble. Something in him broke. He grabbed her hand and pulled her against him, encasing her in his arms.
If she hadn’t been able to swim, a man would be dead. And if the accident had been worse, Grace could have—
He pinched his eyes closed and rested his chin against her head. “I’m sorry, Grace. It’s my responsibility to keep you safe, and I failed today.”
“I believe, my dear Lord Astley, we have a responsibility to protect each other.” She looked up, those eyes as filled with tenderness as ever. No reprimand. No blame. How had God given him someone he didn’t even know his heart needed so much? “And we are both very much alive, as is Mr. Patton, so I wouldn’t claim it as a failure at all.”
He tugged her back against him, if nothing else to keep her from seeing the water film in his eyes. She waswithhim.Forhim. Someone who believed in him despite his failings? He couldn’t wrap his mind around such sweetness.
He breathed a sigh out over her hair. He’d protect her. He’d protectthis.With everything in him.
A short time later, wearing dry clothes and sitting in Mr. Quincy’s car, Frederick offered a silent prayer of thanksgiving. They were arriving much later to the house than anticipated, but one of the men from town had gone ahead to Havensbrooke to alert Brandon and the staff of the delay without giving too many details, and Elliott had the unfortunate task of sharing the news with Mother.
Grace pressed in close by Frederick’s side as they rode. She’d remained unnervingly quiet as they’d exited Astlynn Commons for the second time, even leaning her head against his shoulder. Despite the keen eyes of Mr. Quincy in the driver’s seat, Frederick didn’t move her. They’d earned a little indiscretion, and right now she seemed so quiet and compliant beside him, he didn’t want to change the mood. Not after all that had happened.
He breathed a kiss against her hair and sighed back into the leather seat.
She stirred at his side and leaned her lips close to his cheek, as if she meant to kiss him. “Frederick,” she whispered. “Do you have any idea who would want to kill you?”
Chapter Fourteen
Frederick coughed at her question, or that’s what his choked response sounded like. Why was the idea so surprising? Brakes being disabled? Someone attempting to run him over in Whitlock Village? Clearly everything was not as it appeared for Lord Astley of Havensbrooke.
“Either that or Mr. Patton isn’t as adept at his job as you think.”
Frederick snorted his disagreement. “Patton has been with us for five years. He’s quite capable.”
Her thoughts turned to Mr. Patton. No, he didn’t seem the sort to engage in criminal activity, especially since he nearly died in the incident.Facts, Grace. You have no facts to support your theory. And any good sleuth must have facts to pair with her intuition.
“Then my next question would be if he left the car for any extended period of time while in town. Enough time for someone to tamper with it. It doesn’t take long with these automobiles. I had Mr. Lance at Whitlock show me once.”
“Grace.” He pushed the heel of his palm into his forehead. “I know how it appears, but we have no idea what truly happened to the car. It is old by any standards, and until we fish it out of the river, we shouldn’t speculate—”
“It’s highly unlikely someone would wish to kill Mr. Patton,” she continued. “And no one even knows me here, but”—she narrowed her gaze at Frederick—“you’re an earl, so the only logical question is, what happens to Havensbrooke and all of its money if you die?”
“Darling, I think—”
“Because, people plot a murder for three main reasons: jealousy, revenge, or money. Which do you think it could be?”
“Could we forgo this discussion until a later date? It’s been a rather trying day, and I’d prefer to look at this mishap as an accident until the car can be properly inspected. Malfunctions of automobiles happen all the time.”
“So do murders.”
“Grace.”
“Fine. Yes. It’s been a trying day.” She nestled close to his warmth, her hair still damp. “But if another strange occurrence transpires, Lord Astley, I am bound by marriage vows to protect you as much as you are to protect me, so then we shall see.”
