Fanning the Flame (24 page)

"Your note said you wished to speak to me about the late earl," Madeleine said to Garth as she set the teapot back down on the cart. "What is it you wished to know?"

Adam let Garth answer, keeping his attention on Madeleine's face.

"As you're undoubtedly aware, I represent Miss Whitney. Neither Lord Blackwood nor myself are convinced the lady is guilty of murdering the earl."

"But surely . . . I mean, nearly everyone who works at Fenwick House believes it was she. The butler saw her standing over my father-in-law's body."

"Miss Whitney doesn't deny she was in the room," Adam said, briefly explaining Jillian's side of the story.

"What was your relationship with Miss Whitney?" Garth asked when he had finished.

Madeleine sipped her tea. "We barely knew each other. In the beginning, when she first arrived at the house, I thought she would be good for the earl. He was terribly distraught after Henry's death. I thought she might help him recover. I actually hoped we might become friends. Then rumors began to circulate about her. My father-in-law denied them, of course. He was furious, in fact, when I asked him outright if he was having an affair with her. But men will be men and Miss Whitney is a very attractive young woman. I didn't really know what to believe, so I simply distanced myself."

"But you continued to visit the earl," Adam pressed.

"On occasion. My father-in-law was always very good to me. I was worried about his welfare."

"Did he tell you he meant to alter his will?"

"What?" She sat forward on the sofa, rustling her long silk skirt.

"Lord Fenwick had instructed his solicitor, Benjamin Morrison, to draw a new set of documents leaving the majority of his estate to Miss Whitney. He was killed before the papers could be signed."

"Oh, dear." Madeleine's teacup rattled against its saucer. "I never knew about the will. But I suspect, now that you've told me, that it must have been true about the earl and Miss Whitney. Why else would he have wished to make such a change?"

Why indeed?
Whatever the reason, it wasn't because Jillian had seduced him into leaving the money to her, at least not with her lovely little body. Adam knew that firsthand. It was difficult to control an urge to say so, but if he did, it would only do more damage to her already tattered reputation.

Adam set his untouched cup of tea down on the table in front of her. "When was the last time you saw the earl?"

"On Wednesday, two days prior to the murder. I knew he had been feeling somewhat poorly. I wanted to be sure that he was all right."

"Did you see Miss Whitney that night?"

"Only briefly. She was cordial, as I recall, but she didn't join us. I suppose she knew I was uncomfortable, being in the room with my father-in-law's mistress."

Adam's jaw clenched. "You would be wise not to make those kinds of presumptions, Mrs. Telford." He could hear the edge in his voice, but he no longer cared. "Not without some sort of proof."

She mustered a slightly embarrassed smile. "You're right, of course. I apologize. And of course, I do hope that all of us are wrong about who murdered poor dear Lord Fenwick, as well as the other accusations against Miss Whitney. It's obvious my father-in-law thought a great deal of her, whatever their relationship. If she is innocent, for his sake, I hope you are able to prove it."

Somewhat mollified, Adam waited while Garth asked a few more questions.

"One last thing," Adam said as the interview came to a close and both men rose to their feet. "On the night of the murder, can you tell us where you were?"

"Why, here, of course." She came up from the sofa with a rustle of silk, looking slightly affronted. "I had a headache that night and retired early to my room. I didn't come down until late the following morning. That is when I heard the dreadful news."

"Thank you, Mrs. Telford," Adam said. "That's all we need for the present."

Garth made a very proper bow over her hand. Adam didn't miss the look Madeleine gave him. "You've been extremely cooperative, my dear. Thank you for being so forthcoming."

Madeleine accompanied them to the door, then waited as the men took their leave. A few minutes later, they were back inside the carriage, bowling down the road back to the city.

Garth seemed exceptionally quiet. Adam thought he knew why. "Under different circumstances, I wouldn't bring this up, but unless I'm mistaken, you and Mrs. Telford are more than simply friends."

Seated on the opposite side of the carriage, Garth sighed. "I was afraid you'd pick up on that." He stared out the window at the passing landscape, the rolling green fields, the pony cart at the side of the road guided by a wrinkled old man in a threadbare tailcoat.

"It happened after Henry's suicide. A brief affair that lasted only a couple of weeks. Perhaps she was reacting to her husband's death, I don't know. We never really talked about it. The affair might have continued a little while longer, but Madeleine was extremely nervous that someone might find out, and for me, the feelings just weren't there. We parted friends and that is all we have been since. Until today, it never occurred to me that my brief association with Madeleine Telford might be a breach of ethics. If you wish to seek other counsel, I will certainly understand."

Adam studied the barrister for several long seconds, then shook his head. "I don't think bedding a desirable woman constitutes a breach of ethics. I trust this won't interfere with your judgment and you'll do your job to the best of your abilities."

Garth looked relieved. "You may count on it. I don't believe your lady is guilty of murder. And if her case goes to trial, I'll do everything in my power to see that she is found innocent of the crime."

Your lady.
It was the second time Jillian had been referred to as belonging to him. It wasn't true, especially not lately, and yet some part of him thought of her that way. "Thank you. That is all anyone can ask."

Adam said nothing more as the carriage rolled along, but his mind churned with worry. It was looking more certain every day that Jillian would be brought to trial for murder. If that happened, even with a brilliant barrister like Garth Dutton representing her, the evidence against her was daunting.

A memory returned of Sergeant Gordon Rimfield in his spotless red-and-white uniform, a hangman's noose around his neck, his big body swinging from the gallows in the icy morning breeze. The thought of Jillian marching up those same gallows stairs made his stomach roll with nausea.

It isn't going to happen,
he vowed.

If all else failed, he would do the unthinkable— break his word to the authorities and ship her off somewhere safe. It was the first time he had given the notion serious consideration, but the more he mulled it over, the more he realized he was willing to do exactly that. It didn't matter that his reputation as a gentleman would be forever ruined.

He wasn't about to stand by and watch another innocent person hang.

Chapter Seventeen

Are you insane? I won't run away!" Jillian stood in front of the hearth in Adam's study, her hands biting into her waist. It was late. Adam had been gone all day and she had been worried. Now he was home, and she couldn't miss the troubled look on his face.

"I'm sure it won't come to that. I just wanted you to know that if matters got worse—"

"You're telling me I'm going to have to stand trial."

"We don't know that for certain, but it's beginning to look like a definite possibility."

Her eyes closed for a heartbeat. "I'm going to have to stand trial and if I do I'll be convicted." She had prayed so hard it wouldn't come to this. Deep inside, she had never believed it would.

Adam took a step toward her. "That isn't going to happen—that's what I'm trying to tell you. You won't be convicted because you won't be in the country. You'll be on a ship, headed someplace they won't find you."

Jillian shook her head, dread sinking into her stomach. "I can't do that."

"Why not?"

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. "Because for months I've been accused of doing things I didn't do. When they said I was Lord Fenwick's mistress, I never tried to defend myself. I knew it wouldn't do any good and there was the earl to consider. Now I'm accused of murder. I'm innocent of that as well, but this time I'm not going to stand by and do nothing. I'm going to face my accusers. I'm going to tell them what happened the night the earl was killed and convince them I am not the one who shot him."

"What if they don't believe you?"

She studied the toes of her pale green kid slippers and remembered the day Lord Fenwick had helped her pick out the pretty muslin gown they matched. "In my heart, I believe they'll know I'm telling the truth and they will realize I am innocent of the crime."

" Jillian . . ."

"If they find me guilty, so be it. I would rather be dead than to steal away like a criminal in the night, to live the rest of my life with the whole world believing I'm a murderer."

Adam opened his mouth to argue. Jillian held up a trembling hand. "Please, don't say any more. I shall always be indebted to you for the things you have done, but nothing you can say is going to change my mind."

Adam closed the short distance between them and pulled her into his arms. "It's all right," he said beside her ear. "If you're that certain, we will simply have to find out who killed Lord Fenwick." And very gently he kissed her.

It was a brief, almost chaste sort of kiss she hadn't expected. "I'm sorry about the way I acted the other night," he said. "I drank too much, though that is certainly no excuse. Mostly, it was the arrival of the boy."

She gave him an uncertain glance, wishing she could block the distasteful memory of the night he had offered to become her protector. "I understand. I can imagine what a shock Christopher's appearance must have been."

He tipped her chin up. "I never meant to insult you. I care for you, Jillian. I only wanted what was best for us both."

She nodded, still uncomfortable with the topic.

Adam drew a little away. "The hour grows late and the day has been a difficult one. Perhaps you should get some sleep."

She knew that was exactly what she should do, that she should stay as far away from him as she possibly could. But as she looked up at him, as she saw the hunger in his eyes and remembered the heat of his hard body moving over hers, she wanted nothing so much as for him to make love to her, erase for a while the troubles that weighed her down.

Fortunately, her moment of weakness was ended by a firm knock at the door.

With a reluctant sigh, Adam walked over and pulled it open, then stepped back as the Duke and Duchess of Rathmore came rushing into the drawing room.

Rathmore was grinning, his little red-haired wife beaming with excitement. "Good news," Rathmore said. "They just arrested Colin Norton. He's been charged with suspicion of murder."

Adam flashed Jillian one of his rare bright smiles and Jillian's legs went weak with relief.

"Thank God," she said.

Adam gripped Clay's shoulder, then bent and kissed Kassandra Barclay's cheek. Catching Jillian's hand, he drew her into his arms and gave her a reassuring hug.

"Thank you for letting us know," he said to his friends. "How did you happen to find out?"

Clay chuckled, a rumble in his thick chest. "It's amazing what a bit of coin here and there will do. One of the jailers at Newgate was on duty when they brought Norton in. He saw the arrest papers and as soon as he got off duty, he came to me."

Adam's smile reappeared. "This calls for a celebration." He walked to the door and called for the butler, who on slightly bowed legs hurried toward him down the hall. "Champagne, Reggie. Our lady is about to be cleared of Lord Fenwick's murder."

"I say, Major, that is good news."

Adam turned back to the duke. "Are they certain they've the right person this time?"

"All I know is that someone came forward who heard Norton making threats against the earl and apparently he doesn't have an alibi for his whereabouts that night."

Adam turned to Jillian. "With Norton arrested and the support of the duke and duchess added to mine, it should be enough to clear your name."

Relief washed over her so strongly tears sprang into her eyes.

Adam eased her back into his arms. "It's all right, love, the worst is over. Everything is going to be fine."

She nodded, dragged in a shaky breath of air. She accepted the initialed white handkerchief the duke handed over. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that. It's just such a relief."

"Don't be silly." The duchess reached over and squeezed her hand. "You have every right to cry. You've been through a terrible ordeal. But all of that is behind you now. You can start to think of the future."

Kitt Barclay looked beautiful tonight, her fiery hair swept up in curls, her pretty green eyes flashing. She was gowned in emerald silk, obviously dressed for an evening out, and the duke looked magnificent in a russet tailcoat over a waistcoat of ivory and gold.

Jillian flashed a smile. "Thank you so much. You've both been incredibly kind. And Adam . . . Lord Blackwood has been wonderful."