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  “Very quick thinking,” Lady Juliana said. “That particular coach goes on to other parts before returning to Carmarthen. It will be days before he can speak to the driver and find out that the man didn’t pick up Evan and Mrs. Price.”

  Mr. Vaughan nodded. “And that storm we had yesterday ought to slow him down even more. The roads are still treacherous. Besides, once he learns that Evan and Mrs. Price didn’t take the coach, he’ll no doubt assume they made it onto a ship to London. With luck, his pursuit will end there.”

  “I think it will,” Catrin said. “I don’t think he’d try to follow us to London.” Catrin flashed Mr. Vaughan a grateful smile. “Thank you so much for misdirecting him. After what he did to Evan, I never want to see him again.”

  Mr. Vaughan steepled his fingers. “I can well understand that.” He drew in a deep breath. “I hope you don’t mind if I ask why this Mr. Morys is going to so much trouble to find you. You said you’d tell me the whole story eventually, and now that Evan is doing better . . .”

  “Of course.” How much should she say? How much would Evan want him to know?

  “When Evan stopped here on his way to Llanddeusant, he mentioned that you might have been the last person to see his friend Justin alive. Evan said he was on his way to question you. Can I assume all of this is related to that?”

  If Mr. Vaughan knew that much, there wasn’t any point in keeping the whole truth from him. “Yes.”

  She began to relate the whole story, leaving out only the real reason she’d wanted the chalice. All she said was that it was a family heirloom she’d thought to regain. She also left out her physical relationship with Evan, but apparently they deduced that, for Lady Juliana began to regard her with a knowing gaze.

  But when Catrin came to the part about Evan’s finding the chalice and accusing her of duplicity, she dropped her eyes to her plate, unable to see their condemnation. She could hardly finish without tears, especially when describing David’s shooting Evan. Then she ended with, “And that’s why David is after us.”

  The long silence tormented her. At last she lifted her head, only to find Mr. Vaughan looking speculative and Lady Juliana intrigued.

  Mr. Vaughan cleared his throat. “That’s a very interesting tale. You say Evan was carrying you to London to be questioned by this Mr. Quinley?”

  She nodded.

  “Because he thought you might be part of some sordid conspiracy to murder his friend.” Lady Juliana snorted. “Men! They always look at the ‘evidence’ and never their hearts. I should have known Evan was as bad as the rest, jumping to conclusions based on the flimsiest of facts.”

  Catrin gaped at Lady Juliana, surprised to find an ally.

  Mr. Vaughan raised an eyebrow at his wife. “I don’t think these are the flimsiest of facts. Perhaps you’re letting your own . . . ah . . . past experiences color your assessment.”

  Lady Juliana drew herself up with a haughty glare. “Perhaps. But a guilty woman wouldn’t risk death to save the man who planned to have her arrested. Nor would she stay by his side when she could run off and leave him to die.”

  “No, of course not,” Mr. Vaughan said. “But when Evan accused Mrs. Price, he didn’t realize she was going to come to his rescue so valiantly. So you can’t blame him for his suspicions.” He cast Catrin a solicitous glance. “In any case, I think we’ve discussed this enough. Mrs. Price looks as if she might fall asleep in her chair if we don’t allow her to retire.”

  “I agree.” Lady Juliana smiled at Catrin. “I know you haven’t spent much time in it, but you do know where your room is, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” Catrin rose, more than happy to end the discussion. “And please let me know if . . . if Evan calls for me.”

  Lady Juliana’s eyes sparkled. “Of course, my dear.”

  Then Catrin started for the stairs, weary in every muscle. When she reached her room, directly across from Evan’s, she hesitated, wondering if she should check on him. But she didn’t want to risk waking him.

  Instead, she entered her own room to discover that a beautiful night rail had been left for her on her bed. Then a knock came at the door before a cherry-cheeked maid bustled in with two footmen carrying an empty tub.

  “Good morning. My name’s Sally. Milady said you’d be wantin’ a bath. And I’m to be your maid while you’re here.”

  “A hot bath sounds lovely, thank you,” Catrin murmured, tears welling in her eyes. Lady Juliana must be the most thoughtful woman in Wales.

  As the servants prepared the bath, Sally turned to Catrin. “Milady has chosen a few gowns she thinks you might be able to wear with a tuck or two.”

  It would take more than a tuck or two to make any gown of the voluptuous Lady Juliana fit her. But at least she wouldn’t have to wear her own bloodstained one anymore.

  A few minutes later, immersed in hot water up to her chin, she considered how many things one took for granted—sleep, clean clothes, baths, good food. With a lurch, she realized that if she were arrested for Lord Mansfield’s murder, she would lose such simple things.

  What was to happen to her now? Once Evan was well and able to travel, would he continue in his purpose? Surely the fact that she’d stayed by his side would sway him to believe in her at least a little.

  All at once, the pain she’d been fighting so hard to ignore hit her. Evan had thought her a criminal, a monster. How could she bear it if he still insisted on carting her off to the magistrate?

  She had no choice but to go. Escaping into the hills, the solution she’d posed to David, was farcical, since it would still mean losing her lands and condemning her tenants to an uncaring owner. At least if she went to London and spoke in her own defense, new evidence might be found to exonerate her.

  But what if Evan decided to believe her? She would return to Llanddeusant, of course, and go on with her life. Evan would probably go on to London, and . . . and . . .

  The pain of separating from Evan sliced through her. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to marry. And now that David had stolen the chalice, she couldn’t marry anyway.

  It was so unfair! The only man she wanted to marry thought she was a criminal, and the only man she could marry without risking the curse wanted to treat her like a whore.

  Feeling defeated, she stepped from the tub and dried off. She couldn’t think about this right now or she’d go mad. She must sleep and prepare herself for whatever awful things were thrown at her next.

  Donning the nightdress, she slipped between clean sheets. Time to gather her strength, as Grandmother had done when she’d lost first her husband and then her daughter and son-in-law. There was no longer any place for reticence in her life.

  That was her last thought before she drifted off to sleep.

  17

  David roamed the streets of Carmarthen, searching for his quarry. Catrin and Newcome had escaped him on a blasted coach, of all things. But they had to be around Carmarthen; it was the closest port.

  Glancing down at the bag in his hand, he gave a grim smile. At least he had the chalice. And Catrin wanted it. So when she came to him for it, he’d make her agree to marry him before he gave it to her.

  Perhaps Catrin and Newcome had left the coach before they reached town. That was worth pursuing. He should start questioning people in the cottages on the outskirts, then work his way in.

  He sauntered along the road back to Llanddeusant, but there seemed to be only forest along it. As he rounded a bend he thought he heard a rustling behind him, but when he whirled to look, he saw naught but the muddy road.

  As he turned back, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Blackheart stood in front of him, blocking the road.

  “You frightened me half out of my wits!” David cried. “What are you doing here?”

  When Blackheart approached, David fought to hide his panic. If Blackheart noticed the bag with the chalice, he’d take it. David couldn’t let the bastard have his only hope of getting Catrin back.

  “I told y
ou to keep me informed of all developments between you and Catrin,” Blackheart said. “Then I had to hear from Mrs. Llewellyn that you’d taken off for Carmarthen without telling me your plans.”

  “There was no time. I had to catch up to them.”

  Blackheart examined his well-manicured fingernails. “Mrs. Llewellyn said that Newcome and the London investigator suspect our shy little Catrin of killing Lord Mansfield. That she sent you off to rescue the chit.” He glanced up, his eyes cold. “Obviously you were unsuccessful, or Catrin would be with you.”

  “Actually, I did catch up to them. I shot the bastard. He’ll succumb to his wounds soon enough.”

  Blackheart’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do? Leave him for dead? And what about Catrin?”

  David glanced away from Blackheart’s contemptuous expression. “She and Newcome . . .” Blast, he hated having to tell the old man of his humiliation. “They escaped me. That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to find them.”

  Blackheart gave a bark of laughter. “How did a woman and a wounded man escape you when you had a pistol on them? They got it away from you, did they? Christ, what a fool you are.”

  He stiffened. “They’re in Carmarthen somewhere. I’ll find them.”

  “You’d better. Catrin must lead me to that chalice.” As David instinctively tightened his grip on the bag, Blackheart caught the movement. “Unless, of course, you managed to retrieve it after you shot Newcome.” He gestured to the bag. “Give it to me.” When David hesitated, Blackheart stepped closer and added, with menace in his voice, “I’m not an idiot. I know you have it.”

  “But I need it to make Catrin marry me!”

  Blackheart’s laugh seemed to rustle the very leaves in the forest. “Cross me now, and you risk losing her forever. All I need do is tell her of your peccadillo with that student in Merthyr Tydfil, and she’ll choose to be a widow all her life rather than marry you.”

  Helpless anger surged in David. Devil take Blackheart, he would always get what he wanted!

  With a sigh, David handed the sack over. To his surprise, Blackheart strode into the forest with it.

  David hurried after him. “Where do you think you’re going?”

  Blackheart only stopped when he’d reached a spot well hidden from the road. “I want to examine the chalice to make sure it’s the right one, and I’m not going to risk doing that where anyone might see.” He drew it from the bag and held it up to the light. His unholy smile made David shiver.

  “Siprys dyn giprys dan gopr,” Blackheart muttered as he ran his fingers over the markings.

  The words sounded like no Welsh David had ever heard. As Blackheart continued to murmur nonsensical phrases and stroke the chalice, David grew uneasy.

  When he shifted his feet, Blackheart started, as if he’d forgotten David was there. He fixed David with eyes brightly burning. “So you thought you could keep it from me, and force Catrin to your side with it. Ignore my claim.”

  “What claim? You have no more claim than I. Besides, why can’t we both have it? I only need it long enough to court Catrin and marry her. You can have it after that.”

  With a scowl, Blackheart came toward David. “What makes you think I want you to marry Catrin?”

  David backed away. “Even . . . if your aim is to k-keep her accursed,” he stammered, “she’ll do anything to get it back. She’d certainly give herself to me for it. That’s all I want . . . Catrin in my arms for one night—”

  “Liar! You want her to marry you so you can get your hands on her land. That’s why you tried to hide the chalice from me in the first place.”

  “No!” David cried, alarmed by the menace in Blackheart’s face. “I would have given it to you, I swear! Once Catrin and I were married . . .” He trailed off as Blackheart pulled a dagger from his coat.

  David’s heart faltered. Judging from the strange markings and S-shaped blade, it was an antique weapon. And Blackheart clearly meant to use it on him.

  “No, no! You don’t understand—” As Blackheart advanced on him, David shook his head. “You wouldn’t have gained the damned thing at all if not for me!”

  “True, but you’ve served your purpose.”

  David took another step back, only to find himself against a tree. He threw up his hands. “You can have the chalice! Take it with my blessing! I’ll go my way and—”

  “Tell Catrin where it is.” Blackheart’s eyes flickered like ghastly lights in his stony face. “But I can’t have you link me to it. My possession of it must remain utterly secret, and that’s impossible with you alive.”

  Blackheart paused to let his words sink in. In that instant, David darted from between the man and the tree, whirling back toward the road. Dear God, Blackheart planned to kill him! He was completely mad!

  David weaved through the trees, his heart pounding in his ears. If he could only reach the road . . .

  A sharp pain tore through his back, knocking him to his knees. “Oh God,” he cried as pain radiated outward and something warm soaked his shirt.

  In a panic, he tried to rise, but a savage kick from behind sent him crashing down. Fear clutched at his gut as he crawled blindly forward, but a foot came down on his back and he heard a tearing sound just as another awful pain wrenched him and blood gushed forth.

  With surprising strength, Blackheart kicked him onto his back, and David stared up in disbelief. Blackheart held the dagger, sheathed in blood. David’s blood.

  David tried to raise his arms to cover his face but couldn’t make them work. He could barely feel the dry brush scratching his palms.

  “Your poor father,” Blackheart said as he casually knelt on David’s belly with one knee, causing David a fire of pain. “To have his younger son set upon by thieves while running to the rescue of a damsel in distress. A fitting end to a disappointing life, is it not?”

  The disapproving face of his father loomed in David’s mind. Then, inexplicably, it became the face of the schoolgirl in Merthyr Tydfil whom David had debauched and abandoned. He could see her pretty cheeks drenched in tears as she’d stood trial for the crime his father and Blackheart had blamed on her. He saw her pale when the sentence of transportation was announced.

  With a sob, David closed his eyes. He didn’t want to die thinking of that. He would think of Catrin, of her shimmering eyes and soft lips.

  But as Blackheart brought the dagger down into David’s chest over and over, all David could see was the face of the young girl in Merthyr Tydfil. It was the last thing he saw before the light died.

  Muted light from the setting sun spilled into Evan’s room, rousing him from a deep and satisfying sleep, his first in three days. This time it took only seconds for him to realize he was at Llynwydd.

  His shoulder still ached and his head still throbbed an insistent beat, but he felt a bit stronger, thanks to the broth and cider Juliana had forced him to drink that morning. He also had less trouble maneuvering into a sitting position.

  God, he was hungry. That was to be expected, since he’d had little to eat in the last few days. And it was a good sign that he was feeling better. In fact, he was eager to leave his bed, to flex his muscles.

  With his uninjured arm, he pulled the bell to call for a servant. To his surprise, scarcely ten minutes passed before Rhys himself entered. As soon as he saw Evan sitting up, he smiled and settled into a chair near the bed. “A servant said that you rang. I thought for sure he was mistaken, but I decided to check. And here I find that Mr. Lie-Abed is awake at last.”

  Mr. Lie-Abed, indeed. Rhys’s concern seemed inversely proportional to the amount of teasing he subjected Evan to. Evan had to admit he preferred Rhys’s way of dealing with the crisis. Juliana’s fussing embarrassed him.

  “I’m awake, alive, and starving,” Evan said, matching Rhys’s light tone. “I want a real meal tonight, not broth.”

  “One day’s rest, and already you think you’re cured. I’ll admit, however, that you sound stronger. This morning you could bar
ely wheeze your demands. That’s promising.”

  “Enough to gain me a joint of mutton and a pudding?” Evan asked hopefully.

  Rhys laughed. “You don’t waste any time recovering, do you? Juliana will be delighted. She has peeked in here ten times today, convinced that your protracted sleep must indicate a relapse. Only your snores and healthy color kept her from sending for the doctor again.”

  “I’m surprised she didn’t take my snores for moans of agony and bring the doctor in anyway,” Evan grumbled. “Sometimes your wife is overly diligent in seeing to my health.”

  “Someone has to be, when you go about the country throwing yourself at madmen with loaded pistols.”

  Evan met Rhys’s now serious gaze with surprise. “Catrin told you what happened? What did she say?”

  “That she knocked a certain Mr. Morys over the head with a family heirloom, thus enabling you to launch yourself at him and his pistol.”

  “Did she also tell you why Mr. Morys was there in the first place and why we were on our way to Carmarthen?”

  Rhys fixed him with a steady gaze. “She said you were taking her to talk to an investigator who believes she had a part in Lord Mansfield’s murder.”

  Evan couldn’t tell whether Rhys approved or disapproved of his actions. “She must have told you about the chalice, too.”

  “You mean the one she bought from Lord Mansfield?”

  “Yes. Did she mention her reasons for wanting it?”

  “She said that was the family heirloom she clobbered Morys with.”

  Evan gave a faint smile. He could hardly expect her to tell the Vaughans about the curse, since it sounded so unbelievable. Then again, he was surprised she’d told them everything else.

  What did her candor mean? Deuce take it, what did any of it mean? Why had she fought so hard to save him? Why had she chosen him over Morys, the one man who would have done his best to keep her from being arrested?