It Takes a Hero (26 page)

The servant nodded. "You must believe that I am not responsible. I was in the house all morning supervising the packing. I even advised the major not to go out." The man paused for a moment and studied him. "But you already know all this."

"Yes." Rafe motioned for the footmen who had arrived with a wagon, to carry out their duties. "Whoever did this would be covered in blood, and you are wearing the same robes you began the day in. So the other servants tell me."

Mahesh eyed him. "You are wise and thorough. Good. Then I can entrust you with this." He reached inside his robe and pulled out a piece of parchment. "It was posted over the young memsahib's gown yesterday." He paused. "You know about the dress?"

Rafe nodded. He'd just finished questioning the game warden.

"I found the note this morning in the
sahib's
jacket. After he'd left. For if I had seen it before, I would never have let him out of my sight."

Looking down at the foreign lettering, it struck Rafe as familiar. Exactly the same characters that had been on the shred of paper he'd stolen from Rebecca yesterday.

"Do you know what it says?" he asked, digging in his pocket and producing Rebecca's note. "A friend of mine found this recently."

Mahesh paled as he glanced first at the note in Rafe's hand and the identical one in his own. "Yes. It is a warning in Benjali. It says, 'You're next.' " He shook his head, tears glistening in his eyes. "A warning the
sahib
should have heeded. A warning your friend must not take lightly or they will share my master's fate."

Rafe's blood ran cold.
Rebecca
.

"
Dios!
" he cursed and ran for his horse.

In the library, sorting her notes and research and the colonel's various translations, Rebecca heard the front door crash open and reached for her father's pistol.

She'd dug it out not long after Mrs. Wortling had left and had kept it close at hand all morning.

Drawing it up before her, she pointed it at the library door, her thumb pulling the hammer back.

But she failed to even get a shot off as a looming figure strode into the room, filling the doorway, his dark greatcoat swirling about him like a cape. The treacherous light in his eyes, the determination in the set of his jaw was enough to frighten her—if it hadn't been for the way the dangerous man stole her very breath, sent her heart racing.

Rafe.

She felt like cursing his blasted hide for breaking into the house like a marauder, while at the same time thanking the heavens he'd come.

But if she thought he was about to profess his relief that she was safe, she was wrong.

"Demmit, Rebecca, you'll be the death of me," he said, yanking off his hat and throwing it down on a nearby chair. "If I weren't a gentleman, I'd—"

"A gentleman? How dare you!" she said, still pointing the gun at him. "How dare you come here and scare me out of my wits."

"You're scared?" He began ripping off his gloves. "Good! Because you should be."

"Well, what am I supposed to think? You come barreling in here as if you were shot from uncle's cannon," she said. "Most people in Bramley Hollow knock first."

"And do the good people of Bramley Hollow also keep a loaded gun at the ready?" He nodded at the pistol in her hand.

She glanced down and bit her lip. "Oh, dear. So sorry," she said, letting the hammer fall slowly back into place and setting it carefully down on the side table.

"Were you expecting someone else?" he asked, tossing his gloves atop his hat.

Rebecca eyed his discarded outerwear. Drat. He meant to stay. And from the look of him, he wasn't going to be easily put off. "I don't know what you mean," she said, turning her back to him. "As you can see I have packing to finish, and so many things to attend to before I can—"

"
You're next
," he said, with such cold, deadly calm, that for a minute she considered reaching for the pistol anew.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. In his hand he held a familiar piece of paper. Then she looked back at the fireplace. How had he…

"So, now you've taken to pilfering my private correspondence. That's hardly proper. Why I should—"

"It's too late to be worried about what's proper, Miss Tate. If you'd seen what I saw today, you wouldn't be agonizing about what to pack but rather would be locked in the cellar with the colonel's cannon at the ready."

She cringed. So he'd seen Harrington. The village had been abuzz all day over the major's murder. Not an hour earlier, the Misses Gadbury and Sydney had been over to relay the details of Harrington's grisly murder, so she knew Rafe wasn't being facetious.

"
Dios
, I feared I'd lost you when Mahesh translated this for me." Then he strode across the room and caught her in his arms.

Rebecca tried to breathe as the heat of his hands seared through the thin muslin of her gown and sent tremors of longing through her limbs. And as he stared down into her eyes she thought she was going to drown.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice choked with emotion she couldn't fathom why he possessed. At least not when it came to her. And yet… the way he looked at her made her hope. Made her believe…

He pushed back the loose strands of her unruly hair. She thought he was going to kiss her, but instead he asked, "What is in London that you think is going to save you?"

Rebecca's mouth fell open, and then just as quickly, snapped shut. Damn him. He was too smart by half. He must have realized she'd agreed only too readily to go to London, to give up her writing.

"Silence, Miss Tate? How uncharacteristic of you," he said, pulling her closer. "Demmit, Rebecca, you cannot stop this yourself. And whether you like it or not, you need me. If you'd only told me the truth, I might have—"

"Stopped Harrington's murder?"

The question came from the doorway, where her uncle stood, tall and ramrod straight.

Rebecca sprang from Rafe's grasp, embarrassed to be caught so.

Her uncle cocked a brow at the pair of them, and then marched into the room. "Mr. Danvers, you couldn't have helped Harrington even if you'd known the truth. Stubborn fool that he was, he was always convinced he could protect himself."

"Colonel Posthill, sir," Rafe said. "My apologies, sir, for—"

"Never mind," the colonel said. "I'm glad you're here, and glad to see why." He smiled at Rebecca. "Go fetch a tea tray, Bex. Mr. Danvers and I have much to discuss." He took his chair by the fire, and motioned for Rafe to take the one opposite. Once Rafe was seated, he continued, "You couldn't have prevented this morning's tragedy. Harrington placed himself on that path years ago." The colonel shook his head. "But you may be able to save Rebecca."

"Uncle, you aren't well," she said, rushing forward, and grabbing his arm to lead him from the room like the invalid he was supposed to be.

He shook her free. "No, Bex. No longer. It is time we told someone of our plight. Found someone to help us." He turned to Rafe. "My apologies, sir, for my earlier displays. I fear my behavior was part of a ruse Rebecca and I have been using for years, the purpose of which was to keep us out of the deadly game that took Codlin's life, and now Harrington's."

Rafe's gaze flew from the colonel to Rebecca and back to the colonel, his dark eyes narrowed to a dangerous pair of midnight slits. "You aren't—"

"Ramshackled? Addled? Around the bend?" Her uncle grinned. "Only when it suits me."

Rafe glanced at Rebecca and she nodded, albeit reluctantly.

"Do you know who murdered them?" he asked her uncle.

The colonel shook his head. "No. I wish I did. It would certainly make the job ahead easier."

Rebecca felt the sting of tears fill her eyes. For so long she and her uncle had hid behind a web of deceit and lies to protect themselves and now the colonel was handing this man their very lives.

"Uncle, don't say another word. Don't tell him anything. How can we trust him on such a short acquaintance?"

"Because we don't have a choice, my dear girl."

"We don't even know him, sir," Rebecca was saying.

Rafe watched the byplay between niece and uncle, still a little amazed to discover that the colonel possessed his wits and had been able to fool so many people. Himself included.

Colonel Posthill sat up straight. "I saw enough last night to tell me that we can trust him. That we need him. Now more than ever." Level and calm, his voice held none of the frantic timber from the night before. In fact the only evidence of the evening's escapade was the shining bruise ringing the colonel's eye.

Rebecca shook her head. "He means to take away everything from us. Our means, our livelihood—"

"I would never—" Rafe began, but he stopped as the colonel raised his hand.

"No need to explain, Mr. Danvers. Whatever reasons brought you here to Bramley Hollow, I believe they have changed, haven't they?" His chin tipped up.

The man was astute as well. Obviously his fall from grace hadn't been for incompetence, or mental failings as had been asserted the night before, but for something else.

Something that had killed Codlin and Harrington, and was now, Rafe would bet, determined to see Posthill gain the same grisly fate.

And the colonel was right about another thing. Rafe's reasons had changed.

"If you need my help, sir, you have but only to ask," Rafe told him.

The man nodded. "You've already started helping us, by arranging our travels to London."

"What is in London?" Rafe asked.

The colonel looked up at Rebecca and nodded at her.

She crossed her arms over her chest, determined and stubborn to the last. But when he nodded a second time at her, she sighed and said, "A chance to find the same thing the murderer is looking for—the Kailash ruby."

"A gemstone? This is all about a jewel?" Rafe asked, incredulous.

"A very valuable ruby," she said.

"But never forget, it is protected by a curse," the colonel added. "He who disturbs the goddess of Kailash and her dowry shall never know a moment's peace."

Rebecca's gaze rolled upward and she shook her head.

Rafe had no doubts as to her opinion on the subject—a curse was the least of their worries.

"Pay no heed to my niece's skepticism," the colonel said. "Her father was the same way. Wouldn't listen to me when I warned him that not all treasures merit pursuing."

"Uncle, that ruby is worth a fortune," Rebecca said. "And it was just sitting there for the taking."

"But at what price, Bex?" he shot back. "How many lives have been lost to gain it?"

Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

"Perhaps you should tell me what happened, sir," Rafe suggested, gauging that this was an old argument and not one that was going to be settled now. "From the beginning."

The colonel nodded. "Yes, I suppose you want to hear the story. That is the best place to start." He sat back in his chair, his brow wrinkled. "I was never a very successful military man. My uncle bought my commission for me and sent me out to make my fortune. I would have been much better suited for the Church, but my family had always sent a son into the King's service and I was the designated representative."

Rafe nodded in understanding. He'd been tossed out of the Navy and the Army, trying to live up to the Danvers' heritage of serving England.

"But despite my failures in the field, that didn't stop me from learning wherever I went, studying myths and legends and languages. Fascinating stories. Did you know there is rumored to be an island in the West Indies where a Portuguese sea captain hid a bounty of gold and gems that is just waiting to be discovered?"

"Uncle," Rebecca interjected, "the Kailash ruby please, not your speculations on other lost treasures."

"Practical chit!" the colonel complained to Rafe. "Thinks all my work and research are just fool's errands. Now where was I?"

"The ruby," Rafe prompted.

"Ah, yes, the Kailash. The ruby of eternal life. It is said that if you can swallow it, you will be protected from your enemies for all time."

Rafe grimaced. "That's why Codlin and Harrington were split open."

The colonel nodded. "Looking for the ruby, the desperate fellow."

Rebecca shuddered. "Swallowing it! What sort of fool would swallow a priceless gem?"

Rafe resisted the urge to smile at her. He had to admire her mercantile heart even in the face of danger.

"Yes, well," the colonel began, "Rebecca's father, Philip, sailed to India with the intention of discovering it. At first I must confess I shared his enthusiasm for locating it, but now I realize the entire plan was folly."

"And no mere legend," Rafe said.

The colonel smiled. "No. It was real. And even after Philip died of fever, Richard and Rebecca and I continued his search."

"It took nearly three years to locate it," Rebecca said. "And then when we were just about to mount an expedition, all our notes and research were
lost
."

There was something about the way she said it that made the word sound more like an accusation. And apparently it was.

"Richard and I were deceived," her uncle said in his defense.

"Yes, with a cask of Madeira and poor judgment," Rebecca shot back.

"We needed money to finance the expedition," the colonel explained. "Richard had a talent for cards—"

"Harrumph." Rebecca crossed her arms over her chest.

"As I was saying," the colonel continued, "Richard had a talent for cards and thought he could win enough to hire the drivers and supplies we would need."

"Was this game with Harrington and Codlin?" Rafe asked.

Rebecca nodded. "And another man named Mayne."

"Where's he?" Rafe asked.

The colonel shook his head.

"Dead," Rebecca offered. "Killed a few weeks later trying to leave Calcutta with the ruby."

Rafe shook his head. "So if all three of them are dead, then who is still seeking the ruby?"

"We don't know," she confessed.

"So back to this card game, you suspect they cheated you?" Rafe asked.