Page 27 of Between a Duke and a Hard Place (The Honeywells #1)

Chapter Twenty-Six

M ax pulled up his horse when he saw the approaching rider. Cold fury swept through him as the identity of the man approaching became clear. “Cavender!” He shouted. “I’ve no time for your nonsense. Violet is missing.”

“I know,” Nigel called back. “It was Eddington. He’s killed her.”

Max’s heart did not stutter in his chest. In truth, it felt like it simply stopped, as though it had frozen forever within his chest, never to beat again. “Explain yourself.”

“He has hidden her body in the woods between Alstead and Wellston,” Nigel explained as he pulled up his mount. “I didn’t know this would happen, Alstead. I had no desire to see Violet harmed.”

“Only sold to Eddington to be used and abused,” he snapped. “You have a strange definition of what constitutes harm.”

Shame washed over Nigel’s face, unmistakable and bitter. “I know that was horrendous. But I honestly thought that was the only way to save myself. We must find her before he goes back to retrieve her. He means to deposit her body somewhere on the grounds of your estate and then have a note delivered to the magistrate informing him that you have murdered your bride.”

“Do you think I have a care for such matters? I only want to bring Violet home… even if it is the last thing I may ever do for her,” he said, feeling as though he were dying inside himself.

“Then I will help you find her. I owe her that much… and you, as well,” Nigel replied.

“Then let us find her before he does. I cannot abide the thought that she, even in death, would have to endure his touch,” Max said.

Eddington made his way downstairs after getting cleaned up. At the foot of the stairs, Ethella was wringing her hands. Never had he seen her in such a state. Always cold, calculating, and without conscience or cowardice. “What is it?”

“It is my worthless son, Lord Eddington,” she said softly. “He’s not here. I suspect that he may have had an unfortunate attack of conscience and has gone off to find Alstead. He’s always been weak.”

Eddington was instantly livid. “That worthless, toadying bastard!”

“Careful, Eddington… calling him a bastard is more insult to me than to Nigel,” she snapped. “Go and find him. Do whatever is necessary to rectify this or we will both hang for it… though I’d rather hang than be transported.”

On that note, they were in accord. Leaving the house, he shouted for a groom to bring his horse. Moments later, it was saddled and brought before him. Mounting quickly, he made his way back to the woods, back to where he’d left Violet’s corpse. The plan had not changed for him, except that there would be a slightly higher number of casualties. Now, Nigel and Alstead would have to die, as well.

Or it would have been but for one thing. He had reached the place where he’d deposited Violet’s body and she was gone. Had Alstead found her? Had Nigel?

Eddington dismounted, slapped his horse on the rump, and sent it back in the direction of Wellston Hall. What came next would require discretion. He paced the forest edge, his mind a whirlwind of panic and dark calculation. The discovery that Violet Honeywell was not where he had left her—a small, secluded clearing he had deemed secure—had sent a surge of fear through him. It was a meticulous plan unraveling at the seams, each loose thread a potential undoing.

A love triangle, he thought, in a stroke of brilliance. Violet was involved in a secret relationship with Nigel. Alstead discovered them having relations and murdered them both in a fit of rage before killing himself. It was the perfect solution. But first, he had to chase down a dead woman—one who was apparently being hunted by others, as well. Though for very different reasons.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “I’ll burn the whole bloody forest if I have to.”

The sound of approaching riders had him seeking cover. He tucked himself in behind a thick stand of trees and waited. He was barely a match for Nigel. Alstead was out of the question. If he had to face them together, the outcome was a given. So he’d lie in wait and take them out one by one. What did brute strength matter when he had stealth and strategy on his side?