Page 6

Icy cold pricked over Grace’s skin and pierced all the way through her.

What was she seeing?

Lillias, knife in hand, over Tony’s body? Grace gave her head a shake, wondering, not for the first time, if her fictional loves had somehow materialized into the real world. It would make sense, wouldn’t it? As much as she consumed her beloved novels.

But perhaps she was dreaming. It felt very much like a scenario her errant brain might concoct when her imagination took a downward turn. Only two weeks ago, she’d awakened in tears from a dream where Frederick had turned into a ghost and disappeared through a wall, leaving her unable to follow.

How unthinkable of him, even in ghost form!

She’d almost been rude to him during the first few minutes after waking up because he’d been so thoughtless in her dream. Poor man.

But this? Lillias and Tony? This had to be a dream! Because these weren’t strangers she’d just met in Egypt or Italy who’d been dabbling in stolen artifacts or paintings long before she ever met them. This was her family.

Her stomach knotted. Within the last hour her family had turned upside down with her father’s deception, her mother’s visit from the grave, and now this?

“Lillias?” Grace’s whisper sliced the distance and drew Lillias’ gaze up.

“Grace?” Lillias’ voice broke. The knife fell from her hand with a sharp clang, and she staggered. Frederick rushed forward just in time to catch her before she crumpled beside her dearly departed husband.

Grace moved closer, her gaze landing on Tony’s still form. She hadn’t seen many dead bodies, but there was no mistaking his pallor or the gaping wound in his chest. The jeweled dagger lay nearby, its emerald-studded hilt smeared with blood.

Where had Lillias gotten such a weapon?

Frederick knelt, loosening the top button of Lillias’ blouse. “Grace, can you find something for her to drink?”

Grace turned to comply, but he caught her arm. “Wait. We don’t know if the house is safe.”

Her attention shot to the hallways flanking the room. “You think the murderer might still be here?”

“I’m not certain.” He glanced at the front door, still standing ajar. “From the color in his face, I don’t think the deed was done long ago, so someone else could still be hiding nearby.”

A sudden realization quaked through Grace as she met her husband’s gaze. “If there was someone else.”

He gave an audible swallow, glancing down at Lillias’ unconscious form before turning back to Grace. “Perhaps you should go send the driver for a policeman.”

“And leave you here alone?”

His lips almost tipped, and he sighed. “Of course not, but I’m hesitant to leave your sister alone at the scene of the crime while it is fresh.”

His one statement cleared Grace’s mind into action. Her family or not, this was a mystery, and it could very well prove that any observation helped make more sense of the situation or cleared Lillias’ name, because at present it looked very much like her sister had murdered her own husband.

Grace had never even imagined such a thought, let alone truly suspected it to cross her mind! She shook away the shock and scanned the room. The dagger. The open door. Lillias’ dainty hands, clean and unbloodied. Shouldn’t there be blood if she’d wielded the knife?

“Look at this.” Frederick gestured toward faint scrapes on the floor leading to a hallway.

Grace moved to join him, but before she could, the front door burst open. A man in a bowler hat and navy suit stood in the doorway, gun drawn.

“What’s this?” he barked.

Frederick stepped in front of Grace, raising his hands. “We mean no harm.”

“Keep those hands up. That’s right.” The man peered at them through a pair of rounded spectacles, his pale eyes shifting from Frederick to Grace and then back to the body on the floor.

His mustache was particularly unsatisfying … and crooked.

Very villain-like. An unrefined villain.

“Who are you?” Frederick asked, lowering his arms a little.

“I’ll be the one asking questions,” the man spat out. “I heard the screams during my circuit and came running.”

What sort of accent did the stranger have? Certainly not Virginian. Was it northern?

“We just arrived,” Frederick said calmly. “My wife’s sister is in shock—”

“Just arrived in time to stab a man?” the stranger sneered.

“He was dead when we got here.” Grace peeked around Frederick. “Honestly, must we converse with our hands in the air? We’re not criminals.”

“Your presence at the scene of a crime would suggest otherwise.” But he lowered his gun to his side, his beady little eyes taking inventory of the room. “Officer Clark. This is my jurisdiction. If you don’t want trouble, tell me what happened.”

Before Grace could answer, a scream pierced the room. All eyes turned to a doorway nearby where a maid stood with a baby in her arms, and unfortunately, her shriek inspired the baby’s hearty response. Somehow, this cacophony roused Lillias from her faint.

Did most women scream at the sight of a dead body?

Grace blinked a few times, trying to remember her fiction.

Why hadn’t she ever felt compelled to scream?

She’d already seen a few dead bodies and, despite a deep sense of sadness and a little curiosity, she’d never felt the urge to scream.

It just seemed to waste time, leave people’s ears ringing, and give away one’s position.

Officer Clark’s eyes grew wide, and he lowered his gun even more as Lillias stood and stared down at Tony’s body all over again. Her face paled anew.

“I’m not staying.” The maid shook her head and, without hesitation, pushed the baby into Grace’s arms. “I’ve put up with enough in this house with all the fighting.

” She looked back at the body in the middle of the room and backed away, shaking her head with such force her dark hair bounced in its bun.

“Now you’ve gone and killed him?” With another gasp, the woman dashed down the hall, leaving Grace looking from the crying baby over to Frederick, then to Officer Clark, to finally land on Lillias.

“I—I didn’t …” Lillias stammered and moved toward the maid’s retreat only to nearly step on Tony. Her palm went to her chest. She swayed and dropped back to the couch, remaining seated and alert, at least.

That was progress.

Grace rushed to Lillias’ side, taking a seat beside her and rubbing little Thomas’ back. She wasn’t certain if that is what one did with distraught babies, but it seemed to work. His little face burrowed into her neck, and she nearly forgot about the dead body in the middle of the room.

Baby Thomas was so small. Grace wasn’t certain what she’d expected at four weeks old, but he snuggled nicely into the curve of her elbow.

“You killed your husband?” The officer returned his gun to the air. “How vile to be betrayed by his own wife.”

In half a dozen steps, Frederick took his stance as barrier yet again between the weapon and Grace.

Oh, he was just the most heroic of men, and she would have told him so if she didn’t have a weeping sister to one side, a crying baby in her arms, and a dastardly looking officer pointing a pistol at them.

“That is a premature accusation, Mr. Clark.” Frederick kept his tone measured. “There has been no investigation.”

The officer narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth to respond when Lillias stood. “I—I didn’t kill him. Of course not.” Her voice wavered. “I found him … like this. The knife … was still in him.”

“Likely story, Mrs. Dixon.” Mr. Clark tipped his head, the slight warp of his glasses giving his pale eyes a sinister glint. He took a step back toward the door. “My colleagues will discover the truth.”

With a tip of his hat, he turned to leave the room and nearly bumped into Miss Cox, with Zahra at her side.

Grace stood, placing her body beside Frederick’s to further block their view of the body, but Miss Cox had already caught sight of it.

She stumbled back, nearly knocking over Zahra, who shot a narrow-eyed look to Mr. Clark as he bounded out the door.

As if in line with the rest of the house, Miss Cox screamed.

Then fainted.

So much for keeping Miss Cox as a maidservant.

Frederick felt certain that as soon as the young woman awakened from her faint, she’d follow the path of Lillias’ maid and retreat back across the ocean. He’d gladly pay her passage—poor woman.

This trip to visit Grace’s family was meant to be scandal free.

No drama, no murder. Yet here they were, mired in the most intimate tragedy of their young marriage.

Frederick barely reached the maid in time to catch her before she collapsed, no thanks to Officer Clark.

Then he carried the young woman to the settee across from Lillias and Grace, who had miraculously managed to quiet the baby.

Lillias, on the other hand, could not be quieted. Her sobs were as relentless as the accusations swirling around her. Murder. A contentious marriage?

“I didn’t kill him,” she wailed, pressing a trembling hand to her forehead. “You must believe me!”

“Of course you didn’t,” Grace soothed, sending Frederick a sharp look over Lillias’ head. “That dagger is enormous, Frederick. Not a lady’s weapon at all. And the force of the knife blow appears far too strong for a woman’s hand.”

Lillias’ mouth fell open as she gaped at her sister, her face draining of color.

To prevent another fainting spell—and to distract Zahra, who seemed disturbingly unfazed by the dead body—Frederick shrugged off his coat and draped it over Tony’s chest and face. “With Officer Clark fetching the police, the only thing to do now is wait.”

“And sort out the story.” Grace turned to her sister as Zahra took a seat next to Grace, the little girl’s attention fixed on the baby.

“I’ve already told you.” Lillias’ voice trembled.

“It would be wise to tell it from the beginning once before they arrive, Lillias.” Grace offered a gentle smile as Zahra coaxed the baby into her arms.