Page 106 of Rogue of My Heart
“Both of which were terrible ideas,” Shannon said, nodding and gesturing for her to go on.
Marie’s face heated, and she couldn’t meet her sisters’ eyes. “The trouble with being a sensitive, open-hearted man is that Christian was angry over the deal his father made for him. He had a plan to force his father into calling the marriages off. That plan began with a prank that he believed would ensure his father didn’t make it to the engagement party.” She swallowed hard. “He loosened all the bolts on the underside of his father’s carriage.”
As expected, all three of her sisters gasped. Shannon looked wary, perhaps remembering the conversation she and Marie had had immediately after the accident.
“He didn’t mean to do them any harm,” Marie continued with a sudden burst of energy, needing to defend him. “The mischief wasn’t supposed to be fatal, and I don’t believe it was. I was there when he tampered with the carriage. I saw what he did with my own eyes. I don’t believe he did enough to cause the sort of damage I witnessed at the site of the wreck.”
“But Lord Kilrea believes he’s responsible,” Shannon said in a hushed voice.
Marie thanked God that her sister was clever enough to understand the workings of human emotions and guilt. Even so, Marie shook her head and said, “He is not responsible. He didn’t kill his father and brother. I know it, but he doesn’t. I have to find a way to prove to him that the accident wasn’t his fault.”
“How do you propose to do that?” Shannon asked.
Marie shook her head and shrugged restlessly. “I don’t know. I tried to examine the wreckage right after the crash. If I could have just taken a look at the broken axle, checked to see if the bolts were loose or tight and if the breaks happened where everything was fastened together or somewhere else.” She felt foolish attempting to explain the construction and workings of the underside of a carriage when, in truth, she didn’t know any more about it than she did about the insides of a clock.
A thoughtful look came over Shannon’s face. “If everything I’ve been told was true, Lord Boleran was the first at the scene.”
“Yes, he was,” Marie said miserably.
“And he stayed behind to supervise the removal of the bodies and the wreckage of the carriage,” Shannon went on.
“He did,” Colleen said with an unusually fierce scowl. “At least, that’s what I heard.” Her cheeks colored suddenly and she avoided her sisters’ eyes.
Shannon turned her attention to Colleen. “You have something of an acquaintance with Lord Boleran, do you not?”
Colleen crossed her arms and stared darkly at Shannon. “What are you getting at?”
Marie’s interest perked slightly. She hadn’t realized there was any sort of connection between Colleen and Lord Boleran. All signs were that there was not only a connection, there was a story.
“Colleen can go to Lord Boleran and ask him what he observed about the carriage,” Shannon said, as though the solution were obvious. “With any luck, Lord Boleran will know where the wreckage is now, and Marie can take Lord Kilrea to inspect it.”
“I’m not wasting a moment of my day seeking out Lord High and Mighty to ask him about carriage wreckage,” Colleen said with a surprising amount of vehemence.
“Not even for the sake of your sister and her handsome and wounded lover?” Chloe asked her with a teasing grin.
Colleen clenched her jaw tightly for a moment, then blew out a breath, letting her arms drop as she did. “Oh, all right,” she sighed. “For Marie and for poor Lord Kilrea. But I won’t stay to pass the time of day with the Marquess of Snobsbury.”
“Thank you,” Marie said, her spirits lifting a bit. “Anything Lord Boleran can tell you that might serve as proof that the carriage wrecked for some reason other than the bolts Christian loosened would be glorious.”
“In the meantime,” Shannon went on, facing Marie, “you need to eat something before you wither away into a useless slip of nothing. Men don’t like to take sticks to their bed.”
Marie let out a soft laugh and picked up her soup spoon. Her appetite was well on its way to returning, but she didn’t feel completely settled yet.
As soon as luncheon was over and the sisters split to go about their own business, she headed out to the stables, where her bicycle was kept. If Christian wouldn’t receive or read her letters, she’d have to speak to him in person, no matter what it took. She mounted her bicycle and sped off down the road toward Kilrea Manor. With a month of practice behind her, she considered herself an expert bicyclist, which meant she had no qualms at all about pedaling as fast as the wind, in spite of the fierce glares she received from several people along the road.
She didn’t much care to hear about her wicked ways later, though, so as she approached the Kilrea estate, she veered off the main road to take a more discreet, back way to the manor. That path led her along the lush, green valley that divided Christian’s property from that of his neighbor, Lord Garvagh. A spring ran the length of the valley, heading toward the sea in the far distance. Close to where it originated, a quaint springhouse had been built. A cluster of trees stood behind the springhouse.
Those trees were where she spotted Lord Garvagh and none other than Lady Aoife. At first, Marie wasn’t sure it was them. She was in motion, after all, and at least fifty yards away on the path that cut across the valley on the way up to the manor house. Lord Garvagh was easy enough to make out, with his distinct blond hair and strong build. It was Lady Aoife who came as a surprise to Marie. Though she only had a fleeting glance of the woman as she pedaled past, Marie was certain Lady Aoife was in tears, speaking passionately to Lord Garvagh about something.
She only had a minute or so to contemplate the odd scene before huffing and puffing up the hill to the manor’s back gardens. All thoughts of Lord Garvagh and Lady Aoife vanished the moment she spotted Christian pacing along the back edge of the garden. Her heart lifted and sank, filling with joy at the sight of him, then sorrow at how miserable Christian looked.
“Christian!” she called out, somehow finding the strength to pedal faster up the last few yards of the hill.
Christian jerked and spun toward her. His expression was grave, but for one, glorious moment, it lifted at the sight of her. All too soon it fell again. He stood still, his shoulders squared in a way that was too stiff and didn’t suit him, as Marie rode closer. She had hoped he’d spot her, burst into relief, and run to her, but all he did was wait, his face pinched in misery, as she came to a stop, dismounted and abandoned her bicycle, then rushed toward him.
“Christian,” she panted, pressing a hand to her chest as she caught her breath. “I’ve been so worried about you. I sent you letters, but they were returned.”
“I didn’t deserve to read them,” he said, his voice tired and cracking.