When he arrived back at Kimberly, hot, sweat making his shirt stick to his back, he couldn't believe his eyes.
There was Sherman Cole and with him were four men, all armed. Cole was yelling at Samuel to bring down the harlot. She was a murderess and he was here to take her back with him to Montego Bay.
Ryder rode his stallion through the men, stopping only at the first step to the veranda.
Cole whirled around. "You! It doesn't matter, sir, I will take her, and I have
the men with me to do it."
Ryder waved a negligent hand to the four men, all of whom looked vastly uncomfortable, their faces flushed scarlet in the heat.
"Why don't you come in, Mr. Cole? I am sure there are some rather tasty buns for you to enjoy while we straighten out this confusion."
Cole shouted, "No! I want her, now!"
"I'm fatigued from this infernal heat," Ryder said, dismounting, and walking past Sherman Cole, "and from your infernal yelling. Either you accompany me inside or you can stand out here baying in the sun until you melt."
Samuel hurried after Ryder. Cole, taken aback yet again by this damned young man, followed more slowly. He could hear low conversation among the four men and wondered if the bastards were going to leave him here alone. None of them had wanted to come with him. Well, let them leave. He'd bring her back himself. Then he'd lock her in that room and he'd keep the key. She would be dependent on him for the very water she drank.
Ryder faced him in the salon and said without preamble, "You say Miss Stanton-Greville killed her uncle?"
"Yes, and this time I have enough proof. She shot him twice, one of my men found the derringer." He pulled it out of his pocket and dangled it in front of Ryder. "You'll see that it has two chambers. Both are empty."
"Interesting."
"Get her. It's obviously a woman's gun. Get her. I will take her back with me."
"Take her back where, Cole?"
The man's color was high and it went higher. "Why, there is a house we use to keep prisoners in. More a large room, really, but it will suffice for the likes of her."
Ryder could only shake his head. He should allow Cole to see her now—with her bruised face, bent over like an old woman because of her battered ribs, not to mention her bloody feet. Surely his ardor would cool at that sight. If he took her to this house, he would force her. Rape her endlessly. Ryder felt a knot in his gut and he rubbed his hand over his belly as he said easily, "I think not, Cole. Why don't you and your men ride back to Camille Hall. There's a nice fresh grave for you to dig up."
"What the devil are you talking about, sir?"
"Simply this, Cole. It seems that Theo Burgess wasn't buried immediately and thus Emile Grayson was able to examine the body before he saw him buried. It turns out Burgess wasn't shot. He was stabbed three times in the chest. Now, would you like to examine his body yourself? Emile did say that it was quite a messy job. You understand, of course. The heat and all. No? Well, then, why not take yourself and your men off and find Thomas."
"But this derringer—"
"It's mine," Samuel Grayson said. "I appreciate your returning it. And you're quite right, sir, it is a lady's gun. It belonged to my wife."
Cole ignored him, his eyes hard on Ryder. "But what was she doing there?"
"I thought it was her home," Ryder said, an eyebrow climbing upward.
"I will examine the body myself."
"Fine. A man called Clayton is there. He is a Kimberly bookkeeper but he is overseeing things at Camille Hall. He will doubtless provide your men with shovels. It won't be pleasant work, but I'm sure you know that. Good Lord, isn't this heat something? I might add that Emile was rather green when he returned after getting it done. Several more hours have passed. Ah well, how much more unpleasant can it get? Go now, Cole, I'm tired, and speaking with you tires me even more. Good luck with your digging. The result, I daresay, will be even less pleasant than the process."
Ryder turned away then and walked through the open doors onto the front veranda. He said nothing more, merely waited for Cole and his men to leave, which they did, Cole muttering threats under his breath.
"He was really stabbed?" Samuel asked.
"I have no idea. Emile didn't say."
"Are you saying that you just made that up?"
Ryder cocked an eyebrow at Samuel. "Why, yes. It makes for an interesting theory, doesn't it?"