“Oh.” She kissed the line of his jaw. Edwina stroked his cheek until the muscles in his arms relaxed. Bascomb, big and vital. Strong. Blustering about like a bull. A woman had left him. He’d alluded to it last night. She made a mental note to return to that topic later. “No.” Her lips brushed his. “Never.”
“Yousaidyou were leaving. Didn’t even leave me a note. Not that I could have read it. At least not well.”
“Jonah, I didn’t leave. Clearly. You watched me walk out of a secret door in the library. I was in a tunnel, and—wait, who told you I left Rose Abbey? Let me guess, Mrs. Page, I’ll warrant.”
Bascomb’s brow wrinkled in confusion. “No. Page was in Portsmith. Buying a roast. Meg came to me wringing her hands. She said when she brought you tea, you stomped about, hands in the air. You couldn’t take the isolation. She said that I could send your things. Thomas said you didn’t even wait to have your trunk brought down but insisted you be taken to Portsmith immediately to catch the first coach to London. So I went to Portsmith.”
“Is that what he told you?” Edwina looked into his beautiful gray-green eyes. “But I’m not from London, as I’ve reminded you often enough. Hampshire, my lord.” The revelation of who was truly behind the manipulation of the ledgers and the haunting had Edwina’s head swimming. It hadneverbeen Mrs. Page.
“Thomas is simple. London is the only city he likely can name outside of Portsmith.” Bascomb pulled her to him, pressing the tip of his nose into her neck. “Eddie. What the bloody hell were you doing in the wall? You smell of dirt. You’re bleeding. Covered in cobwebs.”
Edwina sat back, tossing the handkerchief on the table. “Thomas isn’t simple. Meg isn’t timid. They’ve been stealing from you since you came to Rose Abbey. There is no ghost. It’s Meg, dressed up and fluttering about. Thomas pushed over the bookcase.”
“Dear God. The blow to your head addled you. Meg?”
“There are mistakes in the ledgers. Small, tiny little oversights. Tradesmen marked as paid, but not truly paid. Numbers altered. They knew you didn’t check the ledgers. The sum they’ve taken is quite large all added together. Hundreds of pounds. When your secretaries discovered the irregularities, they were frightened away before making their suspicions known.”
Bascomb sat back, shaking his head. “That’s impossible. It can’t be true.”
“Entirely true, I’m afraid.” Thomas came into the library, pushing Mrs. Page before him, a pistol in her back. “Do I look simple to you now, my lord?”
“Thomas.” Bascomb stood.
“Surprised?” He pushed Mrs. Page away from him and pointed the gun at Bascomb. “One move and I’ll blow your head off, my lord.”
Bascomb’s hands curled into fists. His eyes narrowed. “You bastard. You stole from me.”
“Well, you can’t check your own ledgers. I’m really not to blame for your lack of attention. Or is it intelligence? I’m not the simpleton in the room.”
A growl came from Bascomb. The scar stood out stark against his cheek. “I’ll see you hang for this.”
Edwina placed a hand on his arm, terrified Thomas would shoot him.
“Doubtful. If Miss Collins had just stayed in the tunnel or died in any of the other attempts we made to rid Rose Abbey of her presence, you might have ended up with nothing more than bruised pride at knowing you’d been fleeced.” Thomas shrugged. “As it is, I suppose you’ll all be going into the tunnels together.” He looked at Edwina. “You’ve more lives than a cat, Miss Collins. I’m not sure how you escaped the bookcase. Or Meg pushing you down the stairs.”
“Agility,” Edwina snapped.
Meg strolled into the room, looking nothing like the timid little maid Edwina had taken her to be. Dressed in a gown of green silk, hair carefully coiled with a small hat atop, Meg looked askance at Thomas. “She survived.” Meg’s eye roved over Edwina. “Unbelievable. Well, I suppose we’ll have to shoot them all. Just to be sure. No one will find the bodies in the tunnel. Maybe they’ll think the ghost—” She giggled and waved a hand at Lady Renalda. “—did away with them. Now”—her mouth hardened—“my lord, if you will please tell us where the gold is, we’ll shoot you first and you won’t have to see what Thomas does to Miss Collins.”
“There isn’t any gold,” Bascomb snarled. “There never was. And even if I did know the location, I wouldn’t tell you.”
Mrs. Page looked down at the rug.
She knows where the gold is.
“A pity. I suppose you need an inducement. I refuse to believe your uncle didn’t leave you at least a clue.” Meg glared at him and tugged on a pair of gloves. “But perhaps he told his lover. Thomas, shoot Mrs. Page if she doesn’t tell us this instant”—Meg’s voice rose an octave—“where it is.”
Mrs. Page raised her chin. “Go ahead, Meg. You deceitful thing. Lady Renalda didn’t give up Rose Abbey’s secrets, and neither will I.”
“Fine. We’ll do this the hard way.” She nodded to Thomas to point the pistol at Edwina.
Edwina watched Thomas raise the pistol. Mrs. Page screamed, and Bascomb roared as he launched himself at Thomas. The air in the library became thick, suddenly, with the cloying scent of roses. A wall of air shoved Edwina to the floor so hard her forehead hit the rug. She turned her head to see Meg, screaming in terror and running for the doors.
And those heavy, thick doors fell completely off their hinges, knocking Meg to the floor.
A sound of pure fury filled the room. Like a hurricane forming inside the library.
Lady Renalda’s portrait sailed across the room, the corner of the heavy gilt frame catching Thomas in the eye. Rose petals fluttered in the air. Clutching his bleeding eye, Thomas wailed in pain, dropping the gun. The weapon skittered across the floor, spinning to land right in front of Edwina’s nose.
