“Yes indeed, the little worm. Did I tell you that North got a letter from Mr. Ffalkes and he sounds horribly pleased about having Bennett dropped on him, just like North guessed he would. He is probably torturing Bennett, rubbing his hands together in glee the whole time. He also wrote that he’s giving the lackwit gambling lessons. They wager for chores, of all things. He said Bennett might even have an arm muscle by the end of next week.”
“From what you’ve told me about both gentlemen, they deserve each other.”
“At the very least. I must admit that I do feel just a dollop of pity for Mrs. Tailstrop—rather, Mrs. Ffalkes now. I imagine she has to protect that ratty little pug of hers from her husband’s hands. Owen said his father hated Lucy.”
The Duchess laughed, threw back her head, closing her eyes a moment, and Caroline knew she felt the beauty of the crisp autumn wind to her very bones.
“I’ve never been to Cornwall before. It is so very different from any other place I’ve ever seen. It’s wild and fierce and magnificent. And the smell of the sea, with you all the time, and you can fancy you hear the waves no matter where you are. I used to live near Dover, but it isn’t the same thing at all. There’s a pull to it, isn’t there?”
“I think it’s magic.”
“All right, enough rhapsodizing. Now, who else is there who could have killed the women? You know, the question Marcus and I should have kept asking ourselves when I kept getting hurt: Who would gain the most if I died?”
“Marcus would.”
The Duchess laughed, then looked surprised that she had actually laughed about that time at Chase Park. “Let’s not tell him that, all right? I can see him completely go over the edge. He’s very possessive, you know.”
Caroline grinned and click-clicked Reggie forward. “I had guessed that.”
“Just as is North.”
“North? No, not really. He just feels great responsibility for me and—?
?
“Bosh.”
“What?”
“I said bosh. He is tail over tip in love with you. Don’t be a fool, Caroline, you can’t begin to imagine how he looks at you. You come into a room, you giggle, you just sit there and drink tea, you even yawn, and he looks utterly hungry and at the same time, content. He is a very happy man.”
Caroline didn’t say a thing, but she was wondering if the Duchess could possibly be right. The trick would be to catch him looking at her lovingly.
“Now, I’ve gotten us off track. Back to Coombe. Everyone believes he’s mad, clearly and completely mad, that the women rejected him and he killed them, that he perhaps even believed that they betrayed him, that he wanted to perhaps avenge all the Nightingale men by killing women he saw as faithless. But your aunt, Caroline? Didn’t you tell me that she and Dr. Treath were in love? How could she possibly fit into any madness of Coombe’s?”
“She couldn’t.”
“And where did Coombe go? I know everyone local is saying that he went off to kill himself, and left the knife so everyone would know—a sort of expiation—but still—”
Regina stumbled forward onto her knees, sending Caroline flying over her head to fall in a huddle on the ground beyond.
The Duchess leaped off her mare’s back, tripped flat on her face, pulled herself up, and ran to Caroline’s side. She was unconscious, lying on her back, her royal-blue velvet riding hat smashed, the feather broken in half. Her riding skirt was askew, showing her white petticoats and white stockings and her soft black leather riding boots.
She felt Caroline’s pulse and heaved a sigh of relief. It was strong and steady. She gently began to feel Caroline’s head, unceremoniously pulling off her riding hat and smoothing out her thick hair. She’d struck her head on a very small rock, just behind her right ear. The Duchess felt her arms, her legs, nothing broken. All she could do now was wait. She pulled off her own gold velvet riding jacket and tucked it around Caroline’s chest and neck. She sat beside her to block the breeze coming from the sea.
Caroline moaned, opened her eyes, saw the Duchess looking down at her, and said, “I’m all right. I just feel stupid, letting Reggie throw me so easily. Oh goodness, my head does hurt, only not as bad as it did when Mr. Ffalkes struck me.”
“Just lie still for a while longer. You struck your head and I want to make certain you’re not going to fall unconscious again.”
“What was it, Duchess? A rabbit hole? How could I have been so careless? I hope Reggie is all right.”
“You hold still and I’ll go look. Reggie seems to be just fine. Hold still now, Caroline.”
When the Duchess came back to her some minutes later, she was pale and there was anger and something else in those beautiful calm eyes of hers. “It wasn’t a rabbit hole.”
North blinked when he saw his wife riding bareback in front of the Duchess, the sidesaddle gone, the Duchess’s hands securely around Caroline, holding her steady. Reggie was trailing behind them.
Oh God. He was racing to them, yelling as he ran, “ Marcus, get out here now!”