Miranda said, "You aren't dressed. There is a bruise on your foot. Your bare foot."
He shrugged. "Why are you four here in my house?"
Richard stepped forward. "We had meant to arrive last evening, but our carriage broke down and we were forced to spend the night in Meckly-Hinton."
His mother whisked around him to stand in front of him. As if she were somehow protecting him from Nicholas? "We were forced to stay the night at this miserable little inn called the Raving Rooster, set in the middle of a village that shouldn't exist since it has nothing to recommend it."
"And you got up before dawn to pay me a visit. May I ask why?"
Richard Vail, dressed in black, dark beard stubble on his face, gently eased in front of his mother again. He said without preamble, "We are here to warn you."
Miranda stuck her head around his shoulder. "I told him, why bother? You hate the lot of us, who cares if you croak it? Or if someone croaks you?"
"Mother," Richard said.
"Warn me?" Nicholas's voice was all languid and arrogant, and he knew it drove Richard mad. But Richard didn't look as if he wanted to kill him; he looked pale, he looked- frightened. Nicholas frowned at him. "I know the four of you would not shed a tear were I belowground, yet you all troop into my house at near dawn to warn me?"
"Yes," Lancelot said, his poet's face flushed with anger, his voice nearly breaking with it, "but I didn't want to come. Don't tell you a bloody thing, that's what I wanted, but Richard insisted, blast him. I don't know about Aubrey."
"Shut up, Lance," Richard said, not looking at him. His brother sucked in a curse.
Aubrey, with his red hair and bright intelligent eyes, nearly bounced forward. "I wanted to come, Nicholas. I don't even know you, so why would I hate you? You and your bride were quite nice to me at your wedding. Listen, Nicholas, the fact is, we are here. Mother is fatigued, though she has the energy of three Druid priests. Won't you invite us in? We really are here to warn you, that's no lie."
"My lord!"
Trying to edge past his half brothers was Block, towing a very tall, very gaunt man in his wake. The man's hair was nearly as white as his own hair had been in the vision.
"You are the physician, sir?"
The man gave him a short bow. "I am Dr. Knotts. Where is my patient? I hope it is serious enough to justify bringing me out at this unleavened hour of the morning. I say, there are quite a few people standing here in the entrance hall. Madam, I must say you look on the bilious side. Perhaps it is because of the vast quantities of lavender you're wearing. My lord, would you care to direct me?"
Nicholas eyed his stepmother. "Ma'am, you and your whelps will accompany Block to the library and he will give you tea. I shall be along shortly."
"But-"
Nicholas didn't look back at her. He directed Dr. Knotts to the drawing room. He heard grumbling behind him but didn't turn.
As he stood by the door watching Dr. Knotts gently shove Rosalind out of his way, he called out, "Come with me, Rosalind. You and I must dress now. We have unexpected guests."
Not twelve minutes later the two of them returned to the drawing room to see Dr. Knotts standing beside Peter, the doctor's arms folded over his chest.
He turned at Nicholas's entrance. "My lord, there is nothing to warrant leeches." He sounded disappointed.
"Do you know what caused Mr. Pritchard to collapse?"
"He carries the curse of youth, which is idiocy, but he assures me he was not drunk. I have no idea what made him faint, for that is what he did, pure and simple. He had no seizure, no sudden pain in his head or limbs. So I must conclude that he collapsed for the simple fact that he is young and untried and-"
Nicholas said, "He is older than I am, Dr. Knotts."
"Then it must be a stricture in his bowels. This is not uncommon, particularly in young men with excesses of male vigor."
Peter sat up suddenly, thoroughly alarmed now. "A stricture in my bowels?"
"Aye, lad, but it will work itself out. Now, I must be off." And Dr. Knotts, after bowing to both Nicholas and Rosalind, was gone within the next second, Block at his side.
Nicholas said, "Don't worry, Peter. I fancy the good doctor has no idea why you passed out. Odd things sometimes happen when you least expect them, but then they pass. How do you feel?"
"I am fine now, my lord. I honestly don't know what happened. I was feeling quite fine, and suddenly, I saw this bright flash of white and then you were leaning over me, speaking to me."
It was the light that had laid him flat, Nicholas thought. But why? He said to Peter, "I wish you to confine yourself to very light duty today, Peter. Let's not take any chances. Now, my stepmother and my three half brothers just arrived. Her ladyship and I must attend them. Rosalind, come with me."
She asked him again as they walked to the library, "Richard wanted all of them to come here to warn you? That is nonsense, Nicholas, and you know it. I do not trust any of them, except perhaps for Aubrey. He seems harmless enough."
"Richard looks scared. No, he is scared. He's not a good enough actor to fool me and that alone gives me great pause."
In the library, they found the three brothers seated, drinking tea and eating Cook's gooseberry muffins. The Dowager
Lady Mountjoy stood next to the fireplace, a teacup in her gloved hand.
"I never liked this room," Miranda said when they walked into the library. "It's dark and cold, and so I told that mad old man."
"I agree," Nicholas said. "Now, Richard, you will tell me exactly why you have descended on Wyverly Chase." But Richard was staring at Rosalind. "You're here," he said. "Well, yes, I live here."
Miranda said, "Richard has had a dream, Nicholas, a dream that-"
"Why don't you let Richard tell us about the dream, ma'am," Nicholas said pleasantly, his eyes never leaving his half brother's face.
"Terrified about a silly dream, just like a girl," Lancelot said, and gave his brother a fat sneer.
"If you don't have anything useful to say, then shut up, Lancelot," Nicholas said. "Now, Richard, what is this all about?"
Richard rose. He looked straight at Rosalind and pointed his finger at her. "She killed you, Nicholas. I watched her kill you."
Rosalind didn't protest. She smiled at him and marveled aloud, "What a lovely thought that is-killing my husband and here we are newly wedded. Hmmm. Have you looked at your brother, Richard?"
"Of course I have! What of it? I'm very nearly as big as he is and probably more dangerous!"
That earned him an ironic look from Nicholas and another big smile from Rosalind. "Please, do tell me exactly how I managed to kill my husband."
"You think this is amusing, do you? You stabbed him, damn you. I watched you stab him."
Nicholas said slowly, "Did you happen to see the knife, Richard?"
"Why do you care what the bloody knife looks like? That is the least of your worries. This woman-your precious new bride-who has no family, no known background-she killed you."
"Then what did she do?" Nicholas asked him.
Richard's face flushed, his eyes darkened. "You think this is all a jest? You're mocking me?"
"Tell him what she did, Richard," Aubrey said. "Tell him."
42
Richard gave Rosalind such a venomous look she wanted to cross herself.
"She dug out your heart and held it up as if it were an offering to some heathen god, your blood streaking down her arms, dripping off her fingers. There was blood everywhere. She was covered with your blood, Nicholas, splattered upward even to her face."