Page 34 of The Villain's Fatal Plot
“Do that,” she said furiously, slamming books into place. “It’s better than you getting shot, and if she killed Miss Edgerton...” She slammed two more books into place.
Ire looked good on her. Nice to know she wasn’t always docile.
“This was my only good shirt,” he said mournfully, feeling the ale a little too much and setting his mug aside. Fletch would have the cottage overrun shortly, and he didn’t need to be drunk.
“I’ll buy you two more. Tell Lavender to make them up.” The stoic woman who had watched over her teacher’s corpse all night had finally unleashed her fury. Steam emanated from her every gesture and word, even if she didn’t raise her voice.
Interesting. Money wasn’t a problem? She’d arrived with one bag and cried over her lost bonnet... But she’d ordered new gowns... He wasn’t in any condition to puzzle it out.
Fletch arrived with Captain Huntley and the little apothecary/physician. Rafe tried not to groan as Meera shed her colorful shawl and checked his bloody bandage while Hunt quizzed him, and Fletch prowled the kitchen... out of sight but not hearing.
“We’ve got men and hounds searching the grounds, but that footpath leads to half the houses in the village,” the captain said, taking the other sofa and propping his bad leg up on the same chair as Rafe used. They needed a proper footstool.
“If anyone shows up on Sunday with my hat on her head, I’ll snatch it right off,” Verity muttered. “Did she come in just to make a mess and steal a hat?”
Treating Rafe’s arm with some concoction that stung like allthe fires of hell, Meera glanced around at the disorder. “Have you looked upstairs? Did she have time to search up there?”
Fletch called from the kitchen, “I’ll look. We don’t know if anyone is still hiding up there.”
The little widow finally collapsed in the chair beside the hearth and buried her face in her hands. “I don’t own anything anyone can want. This has to be about Miss Edgerton.”
Well, yes, that was a certainty as far as Rafe was concerned. Had she reason to believe otherwise? Had he been a little too simple-minded about the lady because he wanted in her bed?
“No one up here but a cowardly kitten,” Fletch called down. “I don’t think your thief had time to search.” He clattered back down to the kitchen.
With a lot more finesse than a battlefield bonesetter, Dr. Walker finished tying a clean bandage and produced a bottle of powders from her bag. “This is for the pain. I’d recommend it over ale.”
Now that the blood was out of sight, Fletch returned to the front room. The teacher’s dainty furniture and tiny cottage hadn’t been designed for three hulking men. The women practically disappeared into the shadows—except Rafe was painfully aware of them. Verity was mangling her apron and working herself into a state, and the apothecary was watching her warily.
“Shall I give you something to help you sleep, Mrs. Porter?” Meera asked, gathering up her supplies. “You’ve had a little too much excitement, I fear.”
“I may never sleep again.” Bereft of handkerchief, Verity wiped her eyes on her apron. “I can’t bear that Rafe may have been shot for something I haven’t found but others might.”
That she hadn’t found?What did that mean? Rafe sat up straighter. She knew what to look for and hadn’t told him?
Eyes glittering with tears, Verity studied them helplessly. “I don’tknowany of you. I don’t know who to trust. I’m terrified of what I might find. But if the killer keeps returning...”
“Or thief,” Meera suggested quietly. “They may not have intended to kill.”
The distraught widow took a deep breath and nodded. “Thief, with a pistol, who shoots people and puts poison in their tea. They’re dangerous. And possibly quite mad.”
Hunt tapped his boot with his walking stick. “We’ve dealt with madmen and killers before, Mrs. Porter. Gravesyde appears to attract them, possibly because of the tales of treasure. I cannot think anyone would believe a schoolteacher knew anything about jewels, but one never knows.”
Verity appeared calmer after mulling over that notion. “Miss Edgerton’s family has lived here for centuries and might have knowledge others do not. I had not thought of that. But I should think, if she had any idea where a treasure was buried, she’d have told someone.”
“But if the thief isn’t after treasure,” Rafe interrupted this little fantasy, “then we must look for other reasons. And that’s what you fear, isn’t it? Some old woman did not shoot me because Miss Edgerton kept medical records about her. She did not appear wealthy enough for extortion.”
Weary and resigned, the lady nodded again. Rafe had the ridiculous urge to cuddle her the way she cuddled her kitten. He stifled that urge once she began speaking.
“Before Miss Edgerton... passed on... she whispered something that sounded like...” Verity hesitated, summoning a memory while everyone hung on her words. “She saidtea, first. Then,papers. Her final words were so faint, I don’t know if I heard them properly, but they sounded as if she were telling meunder boards.”
They all sat in silence for a minute. Tamping down his fury that she hadn’t told him this, Rafe studied the rug-covered planks, then glanced up at the wooden ceiling of the loft. There would be beams up there...
Why the devil hadn’t she warned him earlier about the lady’sdying words? What waswrongwith her?
“Tearing a cottage apart in hopes of finding valuable papers will not do, gentlemen,” Meera admonished, donning her shawl. “What you might fear is the thief burning the cottage to the ground to destroy them, since it has become quite obvious that they are not easily found.”
Hunt reluctantly rose with her. “I’ll have men patrol the footpath behind the cottage. Does your hound know not to eat anything given by strangers?”
