Page 95 of A Momentary Marriage

“An urn fell from the balcony, almost hit Laura,” Walter explained.

“What?” Claude’s eyebrows shot up and he turned his head, looking past the men to where Laura and the other women of the family were clustered. His face closed down and he turned back to James, saying bitterly, “So of course you decided it was me.”

“Who else would it be?” James retorted. “Bloody huge stone urns don’t just slip off the balcony. It was pushed.”

“Now, James, you don’t know that,” Graeme began reasonably.

“I know.” James glared at his brother. “He knows. I’m telling you, Claude, this stops. Now. If anything happens to her, I will kill you.”

“James . . .” Walter began nervously.

“Stay out of it, Walter.”

“James, calm down,” Graeme urged. “You don’t mean that.”

“The hell I don’t.” James turned to Graeme. “Don’t you understand? He tried to kill Laura. Twice. You think I could possibly ignore that?” He swung back to Claude. “I should have gotten rid of you as soon as I recovered. I foolishly hoped it was someone else, not my own brother, who wanted me dead.”

“I’ve wanted you dead a hundred times,” Claude shot back. “But you’re daft if you think I ever tried to kill you. And why in the bloody blue blazes would I pitch an urn down on your wife?”

“Because she stands in your way!”

The corridor went deathly quiet. It was Graeme who broke the silence. “James, this is absurd. Stop and think. You have no proof.”

“I don’t need proof.” James swung his head toward his cousin, his eyes implacable. “Who else would try to kill my wife?” He swept his hand toward the other people watching in stunned fascination. “All of them might hate me enough to kill me, however small the benefit. But no one would kill Laura except for profit . . . and Claude is the one who would profit. He would have to act quickly, you see, because once I survived, he’d know she might provide me with an heir. Then he would lose all chance of inheriting.” He looked back at his brother. “Wouldn’t you, Claude?”

Claude crossed his arms and regarded James stonily.

“I may not have enough proof for a judge, that’s true,” James went on. “Nor do I wish to upset Mother with the scandal. So this is what I intend: I am going to hire an assassin.”

“What?” A chorus of voices rose up around him.

“If Laura dies, if I die, he will kill you.” James jabbed his finger at Claude. “Do you understand?”

“I understand that you’re a bloody lunatic.”

“James, that’s mad,” Graeme protested. “You can’t just go about hiring someone to kill your brother!”

“Can’t I?”

“Stop and think about this. Consider the consequences. What if something happened that Claude had nothing to do with? If it was just an accident?”

“Then I’d say that Claude has a vested interest in making sure Laura remains well.” James turned and strode away, leaving everyone in the hall staring after him in shocked silence.

Laura whirled and ran after her husband. The remainder of their guests were clustered at the foot of the stairs, buzzing with curiosity, but Laura hardly glanced at them as she ran past.

When Laura entered the study, James was standing at his desk, tucking a sheaf of banknotes into an inner pocket of his jacket. She knew he had heard her enter because, if nothing else, Dem turned to wag his tail at her, but he did not acknowledge her. “James?”

He looked up then, and she saw that his lip was cut and bloodied. Laura pulled out her handkerchief, going to him to wipe away the blood.

He jerked his head away, his expression cool and remote. “I’m going to London.”

At the rebuff, Laura’s hand fell to her side and she took a step back. She tried to match his demeanor despite the fact that her heart was still racing and her nerves jangling in the aftermath of her fright. “Why?”

“To hire an assassin,” he said as calmly as if he’d told her he was going to buy a suit. “As I just told Claude.”

“Are you serious?” She stared. “You really intend to hire a killer?”

“Of course. Did you think I was joking?”