Too Wicked To Kiss Part 37

He'd miss her. He'd told her that last night. Well, what had she expected him to say? Evangeline nodded, forced her fingers to unclench from around the now-mangled piece of toast. She selected a new slice even though she was no longer hungry.

"I'll miss you, too," she said, careful to keep her tone light so he wouldn't be able to hear the breaking of her heart beneath her words.

He grabbed her wrist, eyes intense. "Evangeline, I-"

A hunched shadow fell across them.

"Mind your inappropriate behavior, Lioncroft," came the trembling, reproachful voice of Mr. Teasdale.

Gavin's muscles tensed, but he released Evangeline's wrist. "I shall be as inappropriate as I wish in my own house."

"Then I shall quit the premises at the earliest opportunity." Mr. Teasdale's palsied hand slowly removed each lid until he found the correct platter, slowly lifted the serving tongs above the kippers, slowly poked around for the perfect strip. "I shall leave after breakfast."

Gavin's jaw clenched. "Good."

When Mr. Teasdale set about sifting through a tray of eggs with even less haste, Gavin muttered, "Propriety is for gentlemen; I am not," and tugged Evangeline a few feet to the right.

His voice was low, strained. "Don't leave without saying good-bye."

"I would never." If there weren't a half dozen people in the same room, she'd throw her arms around his neck and kiss him until his eyes lost their desolation.

"I..." He paused, grimaced...blushed? Surely not. "I have something for you. It's stupid. It's nothing. It's all right if you don't want it. I'll send it to your room. I-if we had more time, I would give you anything. Everything. Clothes, jewelry, whatever you wished."

It was almost impossible not to kiss him, breakfast guests be d.a.m.ned. He looked so embarra.s.sed, so earnest, so endearing.

"Don't worry," she a.s.sured him. "I don't want anything."

That was a lie, of course. She wanted plenty of things she couldn't have. But more than that, she wished to ease the anguish in his eyes. So she smiled up at him, trying to infuse her gaze with all the love clutching at her heart.

He sucked in a breath, stared at her with naked hunger, then abruptly turned on his heel and stalked from the dining room without another word.

Her limbs were leaden as she resumed her place at the table.

Benedict Rutherford glanced over with a concerned frown. "What's the matter? Did you have words with Lioncroft?"

Evangeline shook her head. She feared she hadn't had enough enough words with him. Perhaps she should go to him. Now. Wherever he was. The carriage would be here in less than an hour and she had nothing to pack. She should spend her last fleeting moments in Gavin's arms. What if this was the last time she saw him? What if she managed to escape her stepfather until she reached her majority, and returned here only to learn the owner of Blackberry Manor had long since been hung for a crime he hadn't committed? words with him. Perhaps she should go to him. Now. Wherever he was. The carriage would be here in less than an hour and she had nothing to pack. She should spend her last fleeting moments in Gavin's arms. What if this was the last time she saw him? What if she managed to escape her stepfather until she reached her majority, and returned here only to learn the owner of Blackberry Manor had long since been hung for a crime he hadn't committed?

She shoved her chair back and sprang to her feet. If only she could've identified the murderer! Why was she cursed with a Gift capable of helping villains and strangers, but unable to save the man she loved?

Ignoring the startled expressions of the breakfast guests, she bolted from the dining room and sprinted through the corridors.

When Evangeline reached the anteroom, Francine Rutherford was descending the spiral staircase, one slender hand curved across her belly, the other resting atop the burnished railing. Her slipper slid on the slick marble, pitching mother and unborn child forward.

Evangeline leapt forward to prevent her from tumbling headfirst down the remaining three or four steps.

Francine twisted midair, recoiled, clutched for the banister. "Stay away, you little witch," she hissed, eyes wide, face pale. "Don't you dare touch me."

Evangeline froze, arms still outstretched from her attempt to prevent a fall. Her flesh chilled and she returned her hands to her sides.

A strangled "What?" was the only word her numb lips were able to form.

Francine's eyes narrowed. "Lady Stanton told me about you and your unholy abilities. So much for speaking to G.o.d."

Evangeline's spine straightened and her fingers clenched. She was not violent by nature, but she found herself battling an overwhelming desire to plant Lady Stanton a facer.

Nose pointed skyward, Francine eased down the last steps until she was toe to toe to Evangeline, who still hadn't moved.

Francine's arms crossed below her bodice. "Go ahead and touch me if you want to see it firsthand, you little freak. n.o.body will believe a commoner over a countess. If you breathe a word, I'll say I saw Lioncroft kill him myself." She shoved past Evangeline, head held high, and sauntered toward the hallway leading to the dining room. "As soon as I collect my husband, we're leaving. Our carriage is waiting outside."

"What?" Evangeline gasped, reaching out to grab Francine's arm.

But Francine had already sailed through the open doorway into the depths of a shadowed pa.s.sageway.

The new countess seemed to think Evangeline in possession of a dangerous secret. Just as obvious was the substance of that secret. But how could Evangeline prove it?

If Francine followed through on her threat to provide false witness against Gavin-and Evangeline had no doubt she would do so-Francine's prediction as to which one of them would be believed would no doubt come true.

There had to be some way to prove Francine's presence in Lord Hetherington's bedchamber. If not, Evangeline should at least be able to determine a motive so heinous the others would be forced to believe her. Was the simple fact of inheriting strong enough?

Francine was leaving in the next few minutes. Whatever Evangeline was going to do, she needed to act quickly. She needed clues. She needed information. Who would be the most likely to know other secrets Francine Rutherford might be keeping?

Susan.

Evangeline raced up the spiral staircase two steps at a time, dashed down the corridor to the guest wing, and vaulted into Susan's bedchamber.

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, Evangeline. Could you wait until my maid finishes lacing up my gown?"

"No." Evangeline grabbed Susan's gloved hands in hers. "Francine Rutherford killed Lord Hetherington."

Both Susan and her maid stared at her, mouths agape.

Susan found her voice first. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Francine killed him. I need your help proving it. Fast."

"How can I help? I had no idea."

"But you know other things, don't you? She slapped you for spreading lies, but-were they?"

Susan stepped backward and smoothed the lace of her bodice. "No. I stupidly spread the truth."

"Just so. You know her better than me. Why would she do it?"

"How the h.e.l.l would I know?" Susan began to pace around her bedchamber. "I thought she was still in love with him."

"Still in love with-" Evangeline gaped at her. "But isn't she married to his brother?"

"Biggest mistake of her life. Well, unless you count killing Hetherington."

"Francine Rutherford was in love with Lord Hetherington," Evangeline said slowly, trying to replay the moments she'd seen them interact.

"Madly," Susan confirmed. "Emphasis on mad mad. She made a cake of herself over him for years. Gave him some sort of ultimatum. Should've known better, with a bounder like Hetherington. He responded by turning his attentions to another woman. Rumor has it Francine accepted Benedict's proposal in an attempt to make Hetherington jealous, but as he made no attempt to win her back, she was forced to go through with the wedding."

Evangeline frowned. "This all sounds like ancient history, though."

Susan nodded. "It is. I was a child at the time."

"Then why did she slap you that day at the opera house if her unrequited love and ill-advised marriage were both common knowledge?"

"Because the details of her extramarital affairs were not." Susan's cheeks colored. "Or affair, affair, rather. With Hetherington, of course. Her husband's brother. I happened to glimpse him with his hand down her bodice deep inside the Dark Walk one night at Vauxhall. He got rid of her gown faster than any lady's maid rather. With Hetherington, of course. Her husband's brother. I happened to glimpse him with his hand down her bodice deep inside the Dark Walk one night at Vauxhall. He got rid of her gown faster than any lady's maid I've I've seen." seen."

"You spied on them lovemaking?" Evangeline asked incredulously.

"Of course not. There wasn't time. I ducked behind a bush. Not long after, I heard footsteps approaching, so I had to sneak out of there. But before I did, I heard her tell him if she were lucky, he could provide her with the one thing her husband could not."

"How did she know you you spread the rumors?" spread the rumors?"

"The footsteps turned out to be her husband's. He was calling for her, afraid she'd been set upon by footpads. Hetherington went one way, she another. Unfortunately for me, the direction she chose coincided with the bush I was hiding behind."

"Criminy, Susan."

She shrugged. "I wouldn't have stumbled across them if they hadn't been up to mischief."

"What did she mean, provide her with the one thing her husband could not?"

"A baby, baby, Evangeline." Susan shook her head with a sigh. "Obviously." Evangeline." Susan shook her head with a sigh. "Obviously."

Evangeline's jaw dropped open. "Benedict Rutherford can't father children?"

"Apparently not."

"But Francine's increasing! And he has no idea."

It was Susan's turn to goggle at her. "What?" "What?"

"That's it! That's why she did it. She could be the mother of the next heir. If she hadn't killed him, he and Lady Hetherington might've kept having children until he fathered a son. It explains everything."

Susan's eyes widened. "What do we do about it?"

Evangeline hesitated. She'd promised Gavin she'd stop jumping to conclusions, and she'd been wrong about the murderer's ident.i.ty so many times before, but...No. She'd rather be wrong yet again than let a murderer walk free.

"We shall stop her." Evangeline threw open the door. "Quick, go after them before it's too late. They've already brought their carriage round. I'll go find Gavin and tell him we've uncovered the murderer's ident.i.ty."

"Wait. Take this." Susan jerked open the drawer to a portable desk and rifled through its contents before thrusting a folded parchment at Evangeline. "Here's a copy of the scandal sheet that ran the column. I saved all the articles to remind myself what can happen when secrets aren't kept."

Evangeline took the proffered paper and tore off in search of Gavin.

Had Gavin known Evangeline might burst into his studio at any moment, he might've chosen to work on his niece's miniature rather than the portrait of Evangeline he was painting from memory.

As it was, she caught him brush in hand, adding a few more flyaway curls to her gorgeous mane of hair.

"Gavin, I-angels above. Is that me?"

He inclined his head. There was no point in denying it.

She blinked at the canvas. "I thought you wanted to paint me nude."

"I thought if I painted you with clothing, I might hang it in plain sight."

"Oh." She blushed. "Good point."

"This way," he said gruffly, "even if I can't hold you at night, at least I can see your smile. That is, unless I'm hung for murder."

"Never." She thrust a sc.r.a.p of newsprint at him, eyes s.h.i.+ning. "That's what I've come to tell you. I know who killed Lord Hetherington."

He tossed his paintbrush aside and took the paper. "Truly? Who?"

"Francine Rutherford. She's carrying Lord Hetherington's child." Evangeline gestured at the folded sheet in his hand. "Read the article and you'll understand. Benedict's already got their carriage round front, but Susan's making sure she doesn't go anywhere. I came to tell you straightaway."

Francine killed Hetherington and planned to let Gavin hang in her place. That unbelievable b.i.t.c.h. Thank G.o.d Evangeline figured it out before he found himself- Gavin's heart slowed, then raced to a crescendo. Wait. If he needn't fear the gallows, that meant-that meant- "Stay," he begged, tugging Evangeline into his arms. "Don't leave me. Don't go anywhere. I meant what I said last night. I want-wait for me. I'll be right back. Just let me make sure Francine doesn't escape before the magistrate arrives."

He crushed his lips to hers, then let her go. But only for now. Saints be praised, the moment Francine was arrested he could make Evangeline all the promises he'd longed to make the night before.

"I'll wait until you return," she promised, giving him a little smile. "To be honest, the thought of leaving makes me want to throw myself in a river."

Gooseflesh rippled up his arms. Without thinking, he found himself saying, "That's how my father died."

She blanched. "Oh! I didn't mean...I thought a carriage...that is, I knew you had nothing to do with it, but-"

"I had everything to do with it."

"What?" Evangeline backed up a step, crossed her arms.

He winced, and hoped telling her everything was the right thing to do. "You remember when my sister mentioned my love of curricle races?"

She nodded, brow furrowed, eyes frightened.

Devil take it. He didn't want to tell her any of this...but she deserved to hear the truth from him, rather than through secondhand visions or thirdhand rumors.

He let out a slow breath. "I was seventeen. Home on holiday. Positive my father's order to 'mind my safety' was yet another of his high-handed attempts to control my life. Ban me from curricle racing, would he? Fine. The first moment his back was turned, I tore off in his conveniently readied carriage. Alone. Reckless. I heard a slow, sickening crack, slowed the horses, leapt to the ground. Amazingly I didn't die right then and there. Another quarter hour bearing my weight, and the front axle would've snapped in two. At the rate I was flying, I wouldn't have had a chance."

Evangeline's head tilted to one side, her expression confused. "By all accounts, you were an incorrigible devil, but I don't see how your personal recklessness makes you a murderer."

"My first mistake was arguing with my father in front of servants and siblings alike, screaming about how he couldn't tell me what to do, that he'd be sorry he tried. My second mistake was ignoring my father's well-intentioned dictates and taking off h.e.l.l-for-leather in his carriage. My third mistake..."