Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8

" Next, Venus ordered Psyche to gather golden wool from dangerous wild sheep, whose very touch could kill her. "

Lucius Apuleius, Metamorphoses

OCTOBER 4, 1821

H e was in their garden, a full moon casting a silver glow on Madeline, who was dressed in a silk gown that flowed in the slight breeze. Trees stood silent watch over them, rustling like the roar of waves pounding a moonlit beach to create a bubble of time and space far removed from the ordinary world.

She was turned away, smiling over her shoulder at him, mischief painted upon her delicate features. Accepting her invitation, Simon reached out to unbutton her bodice, desire twisting and coiling through his veins as the gown slipped to reveal a creamy shoulder.

Lowering his head, he licked at a constellation of delightful freckles revealed in the moonlight. His pulse quickened as he tasted her sweet skin, thudding in his ears as he pressed forward to slide his hands around and cup the bountiful breasts that had haunted his dreams these many years.

Madeline moaned softly, her head falling back against his chest as he leaned down to inhale the scent of fruit and woman. His staff hardened as he caressed her, his thumb strumming over the stiffened tips to draw an exalted gasp from the delectable goddess in his arms. She arched into his hands, begging for his touch with sweet abandon, while her rounded buttocks gyrated against his loins, which throbbed in violent approval ? —

Simon woke up with a groan, his body on fire and his chest heaving from his ragged breath, to realize with great disappointment that morning had arrived. He tried rolling over to recapture the intoxicating dream, but it was no use, despite the insistent pulsing between his legs.

He had found respite from his legal problems in his slumber, but now they clamored for his attention, shoving the illusion of Madeline out of reach. If he wished to bed his elusive Psyche, he would have to clear his name so he could claim her as his wife.

Madeline stifled a yawn, entering the breakfast room to find her sister with a news sheet in one hand and a forkful of eggs in the other.

"Where is Mama?"

"She was summoned earlier for a meeting. Now that the coronation is done, the King has turned his attentions to building a palace worthy of his magnificence."

"Ah. The one that has Parliament fearful over his grand tastes."

"If grand means expensive, yes. They are still choking from the coronation bills."

Madeline collected her plate of food, taking a seat at the table. After tossing and turning all night with worry over Simon, she was looking forward to speaking with Molly. She needed to eat and remove herself to the garden in short order.

She cut her fruit and raised a piece to her mouth when she realized Henri was staring at her with an apprehensive expression. "What is it?"

"The news sheets." Her sister reached over to drop the folded page in front of her.

Madeline peered down, pulling a face as she read the report. "I thought Home Office was keeping it unofficial."

"It appears someone spoke out of turn. There is no mention of an official declaration from Home Office."

Madeline laid her fork down and leaned back to think. "He did not do it."

"So you have said."

"Mama agrees with me."

Her sister twisted her lips in displeasure, capitulating. "But if Simon's reputation is destroyed by this, he could drag you—us—down with him. You must acknowledge the need to be careful."

Madeline sprang to her feet, vibrating with outrage. "Are you suggesting that I desert an old friend because of what people might say? Do you believe me so fickle?"

Henri leaned back in her spindly chair to think. "I suppose that would not be in character. It is just that … Oh, Madeline. I am your sister, and I do not wish to see you hurt again."

Madeline dropped back down. "I appreciate that, but he is my closest friend. Simon has had a difficult time since his brother's accident, but this is almost as terrible as that night. I cannot be selfish when he needs me."

"He has not reciprocated such loyalty."

"To be fair, I have a wonderful mother and sister who never cause any drama, while Simon …" Madeline sought the right words. "He lives in a household of idle aristocrats who suffocate him with endless bother, so we cannot say what he would do if I was in a muddle."

Henri's foul mood lifted in an instant when she burst out laughing. "I am not one of your clients, Maddy! Do not attempt to bury me in flattery."

Madeline responded with an unrepentant grin. "My flattery is always sincere. It does not work otherwise. It is true you are an excellent sister to seek me out about my welfare, and I appreciate it. We might not always see eye to eye, but I know you have my best interests at heart."

"I do, you know. This situation with Simon has been on my mind. And Uncle Reggie has not said much, but I can tell he is worried."

"What is the news at Westminster?"

Her sister picked up her fork to toy with her eggs, a reticent expression settling over her face. To Madeline, it was like peering into a mirror, because it was the same expression she had seen while she was dressing. They might have disparate personalities, but their current concerns matched as closely as their features.

"It is not good news, I am afraid. Simon might be in hot water. What with the heirs that have been discovered in Italy, and the fact that his alibi has been disproven … he needs to find a defense, Maddy. This is not going to simply fade away."

Madeline moistened her lips, agitated at this pronouncement. It was as she had feared. If Simon was not the brother of a baron, the coroner might have already arrested him.

"Why is Home Office holding back from announcing an investigation?"

Henri shook her head. "From what I can tell, Simon is fortunate that the new Lord Filminster was unjustly accused of the crime. They are afraid to accuse another member of the nobility without sufficient evidence after such an embarrassing error."

"Which means that, ironically, the men accusing Simon of the crime are also the reason for the reluctance to investigate him officially?"

Her sister bobbed her head in agreement. "Home Office are loath to misstep after the coroner's egregious mistakes in the days after the baron was killed. That is why they are allowing the duke to take the lead. From all accounts, it was what Halmesbury wants, probably because His Grace desires discretion." She pointed at the news sheet. "Unfortunately, that report brings it to the broader public's attention."

Madeline stared down at the cut strawberry on her plate that she had abandoned, her stomach knotted with anxiety as she considered the peril Simon was in. It was incredible to think of him being arrested for a crime he had not committed.

She considered her options as she had done throughout the night until the first threads of dawn had stolen into her room to inform her sleep was a futile pursuit. If coming forward to testify that Simon had been with her that night was the last remaining option, she would do it. But first, there was more to learn. Lady Blackwood's impulse to help her son had made his predicament worse. Nay, Madeline was determined to apply logic to untangling the web that ensnared Simon.

It was not dissimilar to acquiring an important new client. One collected information about them, and employed strategy to guide them into working with Bigsby's.

"There is still time for Simon to dissuade their attentions."

"Agreed. He needs to prepare."

Simon watched his solicitor exit the front door with a heavy cloud of foreboding glowering above his head. The regal old retainer had not heard the news about the unknown heirs, but had confirmed that once their parentage was verified, he and Nicholas would fall down the list of potential heirs.

He was mildly regretful to hear the news. The past ten years had been dedicated to learning about the Blackwood estates and caring for the needs of their tenants and households. It had been a point of personal pride to be competent and take care of everyone under his sphere of influence, so it was difficult to imagine a stranger taking up the reins as he stepped out of the way.

On the other hand, it opened the door to him going into trade. Simon had always been fascinated by the world of industry, especially by Mrs. Bigsby, who had made a success of her business despite the deck being stacked against her as a woman. He, too, wanted to build something enterprising. The life of landowners and peerage was dull compared to what Eleanor Bigsby had done to construct her empire.

Simon was at a loss about what to do with the rest of his morning without direction about the murder. Their legal firm was to send a barrister to discuss the ramifications of the investigation. The solicitor, specializing in estate law, had been unwilling to proffer any advice on the accusation without consulting with his colleagues, so Simon expected to receive a note later that day to inform him of the details of the meeting.

Nicholas came traipsing down the stairs while Simon was still lost in thought, his gangly form showing signs of wear from his slumped shoulders to his haggard countenance. He was aging faster than Simon was.

"Nicholas!"

His little brother flinched, glancing over the balustrade to find Simon peering up with a stern expression. God help him, he was going to force Nicholas to have a conversation this morning.

"Simon."

"Where have you been? I have not seen you since …" Simon raked through the past few days. "Since the family met over the news about the heirs."

"Drowning my sorrows."

"Deuce it, Nick, must you be so melodramatic?"

"How can you be so calm? I was counting on you being the heir! These new fellows might cast me out. How am I meant to get by on the pittance from our parents' marriage contract?"

Simon could not help it. He snorted. "It is far more than most people earn making a living."

Nicholas straightened up to his full height, his ire obvious in every inch of his body. There was no sign of the sarcastic twit Simon had spoken with just days ago. "I am not of the working class. I do not know how to get by on a reduced allowance. You may yearn to work in the trenches of industry but I … I am meant to be a son of the privileged classes."

"Considering we do not know what the future holds, you will have to think how you wish to participate in the real world. Carousing with your cronies is not going to reveal the riches that existence offers."

Simon caught a glimpse of Duncan, but the tall footman with the square face and dark blond hair obviously realized a family squabble was under way and hastily retraced his steps to avoid interrupting.

"Thunder an' Turf, Simon! You are an obnoxious, self-righteous prick!"

"And you are a lazy, over-imbibing lout who could benefit from honest work." Simon winced. They were harsh words, but recent events had him under the pressure of a steam engine about to blow. As the time approached to welcome the new heirs into their household, and with a murder accusation hanging over—around?—Simon clasped his neck as he contemplated the possibility of the hangman's noose.

He had not the patience to mince words any longer. Nicholas was on a terrible path, and they must engage in mutual cooperation. John's health was of grave concern, a transfer in title therefore a pressing possibility, and his younger brother's days of idle pleasures must end. Simon had to chart a path out of his current situation, and Nicholas was his responsibility to see to.

His brother was seething, his usual supercilious mask long forgotten, as he glared down at Simon. "You are a bacon-brained cur to speak to me so. My head is pounding or I would take you to task with my fists."

Simon burst out laughing. "You could not plant a facer to a fly, Nick. You have not the strength!"

Struggling down the stairs with a pronounced limp, his brother came down the hall with his full umbrage on display. "Do not tempt me to prove that I have more than enough strength to fell a grown man!"

Stepping back in surprise, Simon paused to look Nicholas up and down before responding. His brother's eyes were bloodshot and bracketed by black circles, causing Simon's heart to tweak in sympathy. He hated that the boy he had known had vanished the night he had fallen three stories from Simon's window. "I apologize. I was thrilling at soliciting a genuine emotion from you and got carried away."

It was true. These past few years, Nicholas had seemed a lost cause. It was almost invigorating to be engaging in an argument—it was more truthful than their recent superficial discussions.

Nicholas relaxed, placated by the apology. "What will we do?"

"We are hardly indigent, Nicholas. You have an allowance, and Mother has her endowment along with her titled entailments. And I will help you if our purposes do not align with the arriving gentlemen."

His brother shook his head in dismay. "Is there nothing we can do? You were to be Lord Blackwood. We have nothing in common with these men from Italy."

"We can break bread with our nephews and form a connection with them. There is no need to anticipate an eradication of your situation. They may be more than amenable to continue as John and Father have done."

"That seems unlikely. We know nothing of their thoughts, and I … should … have …" Nicholas trailed off with an anguished expression, hanging his head in supplication.

"Put more thought into what you wanted from your life?"

Nicholas gave a glum nod. "It is true I abuse the spirits, but these damn injuries cause me such pain."

Simon's breath froze in his lungs. Lawks! His younger brother had never revealed such intimate information. "They trouble you?"

"They do."

"Would you …" Simon was almost afraid to ask the question lest his brother retreat back under his glib facade. "If we found a physician who could provide you with real help …"

"It might be time. I am frightened by what comes next. My whole life, I knew I had you and John to take care of things, and the prospect of a changing of the guards is terrifying."

Simon thought that Nicolas might have more on his mind, but he did not wish to ruin their shared moment by pushing for more disclosures. He suspected the best course of action was to accept that Nicholas was willing to consult with a new physician. Someone other than the laudanum-peddling Dr. White who treated the entire Scott household. Except for himself—Simon was never ill.

"I have a physician who might be able to help. May I … arrange a meeting?"

His brother inhaled deeply, thinking about Simon's proposal with tension in his face. Simon perceived that his brother was considering a startling change in behavior, and remained silent to allow Nicholas to think it through lest he interrupted prematurely.

"Yes, that is acceptable."

Simon realized he had been holding his breath while he waited, expelling air in a rush with heady disbelief but careful not to exhibit his elation. Finally! He had been trying to convince his brother for years! Simon was not going to question him about what had changed, or why Nicholas was willing to take that first step. Nay, the safest course of action was to seize the opportunity to help him, which would set things right between them.

"I believe this is a good decision."

Nicholas gave a half chuckle, shrugging it off. "Do not grow maudlin on me, stinker."

Simon laughed. The urge to embrace his brother was overpowering, but he knew it would be too much, so he kept his arms fixed to his sides and enjoyed the first win he had experienced in days. Nicholas had agreed to see a doctor other than that medicating fraud, Dr. White. This was a splendid day despite his numerous botherations.

Madeline sped along the garden path as swiftly as her skirts permitted, her slippers crunching loudly as she almost ran. Her conversation with Henri had delayed her from meeting with Molly, and it was imperative she speak with her.

She hoped her friend had waited for her, but it was not a formal arrangement that they meet after breakfast. More of a happenstance of their morning routines converging. Given what her sister had revealed, Madeline was even more determined to learn what she could about the goings-on of the Scott household.

Bursting through the archway, she was elated to find Molly reading a book in the morning light. As she approached, she realized Molly was not reading, but staring at the cover as if she had forgotten what she was about and never opened the book.

"Molly?"

She flinched, raising her head. "Madeline. I am sorry. I was woolgathering."

Madeline sank onto the bench, worried about her friend because she knew she had been making noise equivalent to a stampeding herd of elephants. It would take a smothering of worry to render Molly so deaf. "Is something wrong?"

Molly's face was bemused. "I do not know. I have been thinking about this situation with Simon and … I suppose I feel rather helpless. He is an honorable man, and it is not right that he is in this situation. And …"

A cloud passed over her features, and Madeline had an intuition about what she did not wish to state out loud.

"You are wondering if there is a reason why the evidence points to Simon?"

Molly did not respond for several seconds, her voice weak when she finally answered. "Is someone in my household responsible for the baron's death?"

Although it was causing Molly such anguish, Madeline found herself giddy to hear the sentiment voiced. Despite the horrific nature of their speculation, it eased Madeline's guilt to hear her own thoughts echoed back to her from another source. "I confess, sleep eluded me as I turned that very fear over in my mind."

Molly turned to her with an expression of profound relief. "Truly?"

"I believe that it is not only possible, but that someone must look into it." Madeline steeled her nerve to say what she had come to say. " We must look into it."

Her companion's eyes rounded in alarm. "Could we not just convey our worries to Simon?"

"I attempted it just yesterday, but Simon is compromised when it comes to the Scotts. He will not admit the possibility that one of his relations may be a cold-blooded killer, and along with all the other issues he is dealing with?—"

Molly interrupted, intense with earnest interest. "We should. We should look into it without adding to Simon's burdens. I so want to assist, and what can it hurt for us to do so? It would be better to uncover any disreputable secrets without external intervention." She sounded emphatic, reaching a decision from only a gentle prod. It was as Madeline had hoped when her mind had plagued her with the worst outcomes all night.

"Just so. There is scandal brewing, so I do not wish to add to it, which is why I think we are uniquely positioned to investigate. A little. To be sure."

"So what do we do?"

Madeline grimaced. This was the part that made her feel queasy. It would be such a horrible violation of privacy, and they would need to forget anything they found that did not pertain to the murder or an attempt to hide knowledge of the heirs.

"We search their desks and papers to see if there is any evidence pointing to contact with the late Lord Filminster or his relations, knowledge of the heirs in Italy, or …"

"Or what?"

Madeline pouted in thought. "I do not know. I have never investigated anything before. Perhaps the letter Lord Trafford sent? The one that has gone missing? If Trafford is correct, that letter was used to seek him out to attack him. Simon cannot find it, which means the killer may have it."

An audible groan followed that statement. "I hope not. It would be a wonderful thing to confirm there is no hint of foul play, and the killer does not live in my home."

Madeline chuckled despite their macabre topic. "I will certainly sleep better if I know you and Simon are not in the proximity of a deranged villain."

"That is true." Setting her book aside, Molly clapped in assent. "It is something. Better than nothing. Let's do it!"

"Where do we begin?"

Tapping her fingers over her mouth in deep thought, Molly mulled the question over with care. "John has a desk in his rooms that he keeps locked, but I know how to unlatch it because he sent me to collect his journal for him when I first arrived because he was not feeling well."

Madeline arched a brow. "That seems secure."

Her friend rolled her eyes in response. "It is human nature, I am afraid. My mother was oblivious to the fact that there were servants who could access her private papers. I was constantly putting them away for her."

"Then we must think of how to get you into John's rooms. Does he leave them for dinner?"

"He does, and Duncan serves at the dinner table, so he will not be there. And the valet is abed again with his maladies. It is my belief he gets soused, but Simon cannot fire him because John likes the little arse."

"Molly!"

"What? You are not my mother, Madeline Bigsby. I shall say the words which fit, not the words which are fitting."

Despite her dire worries, Madeline burst out laughing. "I have not witnessed this side of you?"

"I am simply growing more relaxed in your company, which is a blessing. It has been exhausting being proper all the time, but the Scotts are so unpredictable in their moods, it has been my strategy to not draw any attention to myself."

"Well, feel free to air your words as much as you need." Madeline paused to recall what they had been discussing before Molly's shocking departure from her usual deportment. "What of Nicholas? I hear he is quite plaintive about how the new heirs affect him."

"He is. I can access his room once he departs for the evening. Perhaps when I go to bed, I can sneak down the hall."

"Do you consider Lady Blackwood a suspect? Should we try to get into her rooms?"

Molly shrugged. "I have no notions of what Isla Scott is thinking, but it cannot hurt to see what is in her rooms. It will be interesting to see where the china doll sleeps because she has never invited me in."

"Or bestowed you with a hint of expression?"

"Truly! I sometimes wonder if she is human or some fey creature from the otherworld. Can you conceive of never smiling, nor frowning? I never know what to say in her presence, so I hold my tongue." Molly motioned to her lips for emphasis.

"I suppose the best time to access the baroness's rooms would be dinner?"

"Yes. Her lady's maid frequents the kitchens during dinner to indulge in household tattle. Miss Dubois, though pretty of features, is acrimonious by nature, and takes great pleasure in recounting salacious on-dits whenever she has the opportunity. I suspect she extravagantly embellishes most of her stories for dramatic effect."

Madeline giggled. "I think I like this more irreverent side of you!"

"Then you would have loved my mother. She did not tolerate fools, and wielded a cutting wit with rapier sharpness." Molly's face went glum. "I miss her so much."

"I am sorry."

"There is no need. These morning visits with you have lifted my spirits. You are a good friend."

Madeline was touched by the compliment, reaching out an arm for a quick embrace. "I enjoy this, too. You helped me forget some of my troubles."

They sat in comfortable silence, the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze as birds twittered from undisclosed locations, and sweet solace stole through Madeline. "I shall come to dinner to ensure everyone remains downstairs while you search. My presence will cause such consternation, they will forget all about you."

The thought of entering the Scott home was daunting, but she had no time for reservations, so she would be audacious to achieve their aims.

Molly cleared her throat. "There is one more place we should search."

Madeline tried to think. "Where?"

"Simon's study."

Madeline could feel her cheeks heating, embarrassed to speak of intimate issues. Molly and she had talked about varied subjects, but never broached personal topics until these past few days. However, if they were to be co-conspirators in deceitful deeds, she must act in good faith and trust her new friend with confidential information. "Simon could not have done it. He was with me that night."

Her friend was silent as she digested this. "Were you …"

"As friends. Simon was reluctant to wed Miss Boyle, so he spent some final hours reminiscing about better days here in the garden before he signed the contract."

"Well, I am happy to hear that. I like Simon, but I did not wish my affinity to cloud my thoughts when there might be a dangerous criminal in the house."

"I understand. We have one down, three to go."

"I would still like to access the study. To be sure that the letter from Lord Trafford was not simply misplaced? Lying under the desk or something. It would serve as confirmation or disprove that there is something afoot within." Molly gestured toward the Scotts' house.

"Fair point. We will include the study."

A shiver traversed down Madeline's spine. It would be strange to search Simon's things without his permission, and she hoped she would not learn anything she did not wish to know.