She fell forward, landing on her knees, her hands resting on a totally unfamiliar item that lay in the shadow of the desk. Had someone dropped a large object and not picked it up? She raised her hands to examine them, as they felt sticky. She climbed to her feet and stared down, her eyes slowly adjusting to the dimness of the shadowed corner.
Her hands came up to her lips as she screamed loud enough to tumble the walls.
CHAPTER 3
Amy backed away from the body on the floor just as a flushed and agitated William raced through the library door. “What happened? I heard you scream.”
She shook her head back and forth as she continued to stare at the body of Mr. St. Vincent, a very large knife sticking out of his chest, his open eyes staring at nothing. All the blood left her head, and from what seemed like a vast distance, she heard William call her name just as her knees gave way and she slid to the floor.
Dear God, please don’t let me fall on a dead body!
When she awoke, she was lying on the sofa with a very worried-looking William sitting alongside her, tapping her cheek. He waved something nasty under her nose, and she coughed. Her sweet Persephone, all white and fluffy, sat on her chest, staring at her with her yellow and hazel eyes. Before she was able to cuddle the little dog, William waved the obnoxious vial under her nose again.
Persephone turned to William and growled as Amy pushed his hand away. Whatever was she doing lying on the couch with William staring at her while her housekeeper, Mrs. Brady, and Stevens all carefully watched her as if they expected her to rise up and scream like a banshee?
As she was gathering her thoughts, Lacey entered the room and approached the group, her face pale, her eyes wide. “Milord, I heard a scream. Is milady well?” Lacey glanced over the back of the sofa, sucked in a breath, and screamed herself.
Amy remembered as it all came rushing back. She struggled to sit up, dumping Persephone on the floor, banging her own head against William’s chin. He rubbed the spot as she sputtered, “St. Vincent!” She looked at William and gripped his arm, her eyes wide. “Is he dead?”
“The man on the floor? The one I believe is your fiancé? Yes, I’m afraid so.”
She waved her hand and coughed again. “Ex-fiancé.”
He glanced over at the body. “I haven’t checked the man closely, but blood no longer flows from the wound, so I am somewhat certain he has left this world.”
How dare St. Vincent come here uninvited and then land on the floor in her library with a knife in his chest? The whole thing was so unbelievable, she wouldn’t even use it as a plot in one of her books.
William looked at the group of servants who now stood huddled together, staring at her. Drawing on his consequence, he said, “Is Lord Winchester at home?”
The rattled staff ignored his question, but Amy closed her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose and shook her head. “No. He is in London.”
“Perhaps your brother?”
“Not him either. He is making his presence known at the various clubs and gambling hells in London.” She fisted her hands in her lap and sighed. Persephone jumped back onto her lap and flipped over, apparently wanting her tummy rubbed, which Amy ignored.
“Bloody hell.” He might have mumbled the words, but she heard them. If only ladies were permitted to swear. She had a list of words she’d gathered over the years that she could use in this moment. One day, she vowed, when she was old, she’d let loose a torrent, and everyone would roll their eyes and say she was eccentric.
And she would drink as much brandy as she liked at any time of the day she chose.
“Very well, someone needs to take charge.” He turned to Stevens, who Amy noted didn’t look very well, his face as pale as new milk. The poor man was taking this hard. But then, she doubted his butler training had included guests being murdered in the library of one’s employer. On the other hand, it was most likely the first murder for all present.
“Please send for the Bath police,” William said.
Next he addressed Mrs. Brady, her ashen complexion making her a good candidate for the next woman to swoon. “Please fetch a blanket or sheet to cover the deceased.” He turned to the remaining staff. “The rest of you may return to your duties.”
They all shuffled out, leaving just William and Amy.
And a very dead Mr. St. Vincent.
She covered her face with her hands again. Perhaps she could pretend this was merely one of the scenes in her book. No, she reminded herself. Too unbelievable.
Gently, William pulled her hands down. “I think you might want to send for a wet cloth and clean yourself up.”
Her brows furrowed; then she followed his glance to her hands and screeched once more. How had she forgotten they were covered with blood? She hopped up from the settee, dumping Persephone to the floor once again. The poor animal raced from the room at the rough treatment she had been subjected to. Amy danced around and jiggled her hands, as if to shake the blood off.
“Lady Amy!”
She waved frantically. “Get. It. Off.”