Page 87 of A Misguided Devotion

Laura jerked her head around to face her. “He wasn’t? But he openly admired me. Flirted with me. I thought—”

“Did it never occur to you that your father was pressuring his lordship into the match as much as you? That all Lord Droxford ever wanted was to paint your portrait?”

“No.”

Poor Laura. It was a revelation that not every man adored her.

After a few moments, Kitty redirected her friend’s thoughts to the accident. “Do you still believe the Viscount pushed your husband over the edge of the cliff?”

“Not intentionally.”

Kitty heaved a sigh. “Then you admit he’s not a murderer.”

“Yes. I don’t think he tried to kill David. I’m sorry. It was wrong of me to accuse him of that yesterday. I was overwrought and hadn’t thought it through. It must have been an accident.”

That was a relief, but if Mr Jenkin died, others might be less ready to pass his death off as misadventure.

And there remained a more sinister possibility. That someone else had attempted to kill the riding officer. Though Kitty didn’t wish to worry her friend further, if that was true, Laura needed to be on her guard in case they tried again.

“There is a chance it was not accidental. That another person was involved. Someone who wanted your husband out of the way. Mr Jenkin must have made plenty of enemies in his line of work.”

Laura’s eyes grew large. “Too many. Papa always said David was too efficient for his own good. Perhaps he was right. Do you think they’ll try again?”

“They might. If they thought he was too much of a threat.”

“But he’s safe here, isn’t he?”

Blake’s face came to Kitty’s mind. She suspected him of being involved with the smugglers—but murder?

“While you are with him, he won’t come to any harm.” Beyond that, Kitty could not say.

Sutton interrupted their conversation as she bustled into the room with a pot of chamomile tea and poured her mistress a cup. “Would you like some too? It’s very soothing for the nerves.”

“No, thank you.” There was only one cure for Kitty’s anxiety. Proof of William’s innocence. She needed to discover how Mr Jenkin had ended up at the bottom of the cliff.

After a fruitless search for William in the house and gardens, Kitty wandered along the path to the ruins of St Andrew’s Church. The old place of worship drew her back, whenever she had time, to the peace she found within its broken walls. Despite the nip in the air, she felt the need to go there again today, to contemplate the current situation and to pray.

As she neared the first gravestone, Kitty could hear a man’s voice. William? She edged closer, keeping herself hidden, so she could withdraw unseen if she was wrong.

“I’m sorry, Lord. Forgive me.”

Kitty’s body turned to ice. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Was all her confidence misplaced? Was he confessing to the crime she’d been so sure he hadn’t committed?

Though it warmed her heart to hear him putting things right with God, the enormity of his confession overwhelmed her. Because if he had pushed Mr Jenkin over the edge, he was in love with Laura. Which meant he was not the man she believed him to be, but a liar. And a murderer…

“Kitty?”

William must have heard her approach. He was staring at her, beckoning her with the desperation in his eyes. Unwilling to face the truth, she longed to run away, but the connection between them drew her to his side, step by reluctant step, as if she were walking through a snowdrift.

“I didn’t do it. You believe me, don’t you?”

She wanted to. Desperately. “Don’t lie to me. I heard you say you were sorry.”

William gave her a wry grin. “For sparking the fight with Mr Jenkin by kissing his wife—not trying to kill him.”

A flicker of hope melted the ice inside her. He had not meant to hurt the man. But he was not entirely innocent, kissing a woman he wasn’t married to, whom he claimed not to care for. She admired him for admitting it, but it still rankled. “Why did you kiss her?”

“I thought she expected it, but then I wasn’t so sure as she moved at the last moment, so I only pecked her cheek. Not that Mr Jenkin seemed to notice. He stormed up like a jealous husband—which, it turned out, he was.”