A Momentary Marriage(105)
He was furious at everyone—at Claude, at himself for having placed her in danger, at Graeme for being there to save her when James himself was helpless to do so, at Laura for turning for help to someone other than him. And overlaying it all was the cold, sick terror that seized him as he saw the urn tumbling toward her, the emptiness that lurked beneath his fury.
His mind skittered away from that thought. Better to dwell on Claude and his perfidy. Concentrate on what he needed to do. First he must find where Claude had hidden the mercury in the town house and dispose of it. Since he could not watch his brother constantly, he should hire a detective to follow Claude when he left the house. And, not at all the least of it, he needed to locate someone who would carry out his threat against Claude.
James had considered simply bluffing about the assassin and trusting that it would keep his brother in line. But James wasn’t the sort of man who left anything to chance. Besides, if Claude managed to harm Laura—he could feel that hard lump in his stomach clenching even more tightly—James wanted him dead.
He turned his eyes to Claude, and something of what he was thinking must have shown in his gaze, because Claude shifted in his seat, the sullen expression on his face flaring into anger.
“You’re a fool, you know,” Claude growled. James didn’t answer, merely lifted his brows in that condescending way he knew infuriated his brother. “If your wife is really in any danger, which I doubt, you’ve just left her unprotected.”
“Demosthenes is with her, in case you’ve hired someone to do the job you bungled.”
“I didn’t do anything to her. It’s ludicrous. I’m sure it was only an accident.”
“Two accidents in the space of what, a month, six weeks? I think not.”
“You don’t know that anyone deliberately pushed that urn. Someone could have stumbled and fallen against it. They’d have been too bloody scared to admit it once you started ranting and raving. Or maybe the weight of it broke the railing.”
“I checked; the railing is sturdy. The urn’s too heavy for a mere stumble to overset it. And you were missing from the ballroom. In fact, you were on the upper floor.”
“Everyone else was in the ballroom at the time it happened? I suppose you noted every face there.” Claude sneered. “No. You just looked for me—the man you wanted to accuse.”
“The man who had a motive.”
“How do you think I arranged a carriage accident? Brakes fail all the time, and that hill is steep. Horses bolting at just the right moment is a bit chancy for a murder method, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know what made the horses bolt. There are several things that could do it. Perhaps a loud noise startled them or you threw a rock at them.”
“Threw a rock! You think I was standing beside the road, tossing rocks at them, and no one noticed me? Why in the hell would I want to kill your wife? I know nothing about the woman other than that she was foolish enough to marry you.”
“Why? Because she stands between you and what you want. You would have been content with killing just me, but when I married her, I put her in your way.”
“Now I’m supposed to have tried to murder you, as well? I somehow gave you a brain tumor?”
“You provided the poison that nearly killed me. You were in the London house when it was hidden there.”
“Poison! What do you mean, ‘hidden’? Where?”
James ignored him, plowing ahead. “Unfortunately I was too foolish and blind to believe you would go after Laura next. I thought your lifelong hatred of me had driven you more than greed. I should have realized that you would find Laura a grave danger to your plans. All she has to do is bear me a son, and the title is no longer yours.”
Claude stared at him for a long moment. “You believe I would kill two people in order to get the title? Murder my own brother?”
“It isn’t as if we have a close fraternal bond.”
Claude snorted. “How could we? You had no interest in any of us. All you ever cared about was your true brother. The mighty Earl of Montclair. You were really a Parr, much too good for us mere de Veres.”
“What?” James’s eyebrows soared upward. “When have I ever laid claim to being a Parr? You think I liked being one of ‘Randy Reggie’s’ by-blows? Knowing that Sir Laurence hated the sight of me?” James heard the rising sound of his voice and clamped his mouth shut.
“Father hated you? Oh, poor James. How unfortunate your life has been. You inherited a title you didn’t deserve, not to mention a house and estate. Our mother doted on you because you were his son, the man she truly loved. And Father favored you in every way imaginable. I am the oldest de Vere; I should have been the one to inherit. But he would never disclaim you. You were his prodigy, his shining son.”