Page 84 of A Misguided Devotion
The door opened again, and Kitty braced herself for the sight of the man she loved and his bride-to-be entering the room together, but Laura was alone. She looked pale and drawn—not like a lady who had just got engaged to be married.
Her father’s brow creased. “Where is Lord Droxford?”
“I don’t know, Papa. I thought he would be back by now.”
“Didn’t you come home with him?”
“No. I was sent on ahead.”
Laura put her forefinger in her mouth and chewed on the nail. That didn’t bode well. She only did that when she was nervous.
Kitty rose from her chair. “Shall we look for him? Perhaps he is painting and has forgotten the time.”
“I already checked the Long Gallery. He’s not there.”
“Then maybe he was sketching outside and got distracted.”
“I would not expect him to be late for dinner today,” Hugh said, giving his daughter a pointed look.
Neither would Kitty. What could have kept William? “Could he have suffered an accident?”
Laura blanched. “Oh dear. I left him talking to Mr Jenkin and their conversation was not friendly. You don’t think—”
She broke off and hurried from the room.
“What was that man doing there?” Hugh said with a grunt. “Doesn’t he have work to do?”
Kitty could not suppose Mr Jenkin’s presence was coincidental. Sutton must have told him where her mistress would be. How unhelpful! The poor fellow would be distraught to discover his sweetheart was marrying another. Could he have forced a quarrel on William? Called him out?
She banished the image of Mr Jenkin leaning over William’s inanimate body from her mind. “I need to go after Laura.”
Without stopping to fetch her bonnet or pelisse, she hurried into the garden and out the gate, with Hugh close behind her.
She could see her friend ahead of them in the gloom, standing near the path down to the beach, peering over the side of the cliff. Someone was with her. Relief washed over her as Kitty recognised William’s tall form.
But before they could reach her position, Laura let out an almighty scream and pointed an accusing finger at him.
“You…you…murderer! You’ve killed my husband!”
Murder? The relief Kitty had felt at seeing William unhurt dissipated. What had her friend said—he’d killed her husband? What husband?
Hugh’s face turned an ugly puce. Marching up to his daughter, he grasped her by the shoulders and shook her. “What are you saying, girl? You’re out of your mind.”
“I’m not. My husband is dead—and it’s all your fault. If you hadn’t pushed me to marry Lord Droxford, David wouldn’t have got into a fight over me. And now he’s gone. I hate you.”
Realisation struck. She was talking about Mr Jenkin. They must have married in secret and hoodwinked them all. But where was he? There was no corpse at William’s feet.
Kitty was propelled into action. “Where is he?”
Head averted, Laura pointed over the edge of the cliff. Kitty leaned forward and then jerked back again. A man’s body was lying splayed out on the path below them. How had he got there? Had William pushed him over, or was it an accident? Those questions could be shelved until later. Mr Jenkin might still be alive.
Of their own accord, Kitty’s feet hurried down the track to where his crumpled body lay. She knelt by Mr Jenkin’s lifeless form and put her head close to his mouth, praying over and over that he might not be dead. A tiny breath of air warmed her cheek.
“He’s alive!” she called out to the group at the top of the cliff. The undergrowth must have broken his fall and saved his life.
Her words released a flurry of movement. Laura came hurtling down the path toward her, followed by William, leaving Hugh standing alone, petrified with shock.
Her friend would have thrown herself onto her husband if Kitty had not restrained her. “He still lives—but he’s hurt. You don’t want to make his injuries worse. Hold his hand. Talk to him.”
