Kat Martin - Heart of Fire

The older woman took a fortifying breath. “I will help in any way I can…though perhaps my helping your sister is what, in the end, got her killed.”

Corrie’s eyes widened. “So you do not believe it was suicide, either! And if she did not take her own life, someone must have killed her. Laurel and the child were victims of foul play. It is the only explanation.”

From her place on the rose velvet settee, Allison’s soft voice whispered across the room. “There is a chance… I cannot say for certain…but it is possible that Laurel may have been meeting someone the night she disappeared. She wouldn’t tell me where she was going, but she was excited. I didn’t realize she had taken the baby until later, when I went into the nursery and saw his cradle was empty.”

Corrie felt a rush of sadness that brought the sting of tears. She purposely leaned into the stiff bone stays of her corset, and the tiny jolt of discomfort set her back on course. “Please…we must try to stay focused.”

Agnes blew her nose. “You are right, of course. We have all cried more than enough. And we can hardly find justice for my dear, lost angel by sitting here weeping.”

Corrie’s gaze fixed on dark-haired Allison. “Did you tell the authorities that Laurel might have been meeting someone the night she died?”

“It didn’t seem important at the time. The constable said she had jumped into the river. The week before it happened, she had been a bit distraught, though she wouldn’t tell me why. When the constable arrived with the terrible news, I thought perhaps… I accepted the constable’s explanation for what had occurred.”

Corrie made a mental note to find out what had upset her sister the week before her death. “You’ve had three months to consider, Allison. Do you still believe Laurel killed herself?”

She shook her head. “At the time, I was so distressed I could scarcely think straight. Laurel and baby Joshua were gone and nothing else mattered.”

“Well, it matters to me,” Corrie said. “And it would matter to Laurel. Are you certain, Aunt Agnes, my sister gave no clue as to the name of the man who fathered her child?”

“None whatsoever. I’m an old woman. I paid little attention to my niece’s comings and goings.”

“What about men who might have paid calls at the house?”

“Oh, there were a few who stopped by now and then. Squire Morton’s son Thomas paid an occasional visit. The vicar’s son…oh, dear, what is his name? It will come to me in a moment…. At any rate, the boy stopped by on occasion, as well.”

“Anyone else?”

“Well, yes. Castle Tremaine is nearby.” In fact, it was the estate closest to Selkirk Hall. “Lord Tremaine paid his respects whenever he was in residence, occasionally accompanied by his cousin. His brother, Charles, and his sister-in-law, Rebecca, paid an occasional call, and they always stop by at Christmastime each year.”

Corrie frowned as bits of information came together in her head. “Lord Tremaine, you say?”

“Well, yes. He always calls at least once when he is in the country, but he never stays overly long.”

Grayson Forsythe, Earl of Tremaine. The name stirred memories of the man who had come into the Tremaine title five years ago. Corrie had never seen the earl, who seemed to keep a good deal to himself, but she had heard he was tall and incredibly handsome. The man had a wicked, extremely sordid reputation when it came to women, and in her gossip column, “Heartbeat,” Corrie had alluded more than once to rumors of his many affairs.

And if memory served, the earl was often in residence at Castle Tremaine, where his brother and sister-in-law made their home.

“I can see what you are thinking,” Agnes said. “I will admit the earl is attractive, but he is also a dark, rather brooding sort of fellow. I cannot imagine your sister would be interested in a man like that.” She glanced away. “Laurel was always so bright and fun-loving, such a warm-hearted, spirited young girl.” Her eyes teared up and she used her handkerchief again.

Corrie felt a crushing weight in her chest. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said, determined not to let her emotions rise to the surface. “But from the gossip I have heard, the man is quite ruthless when it comes to women. I imagine if he wanted to seduce an innocent young girl, it would be easy enough for him to do.”

“Perhaps.” Agnes fought to bring her own emotions under control. “But I just cannot…” She shook her head, her silver eyebrows drawing together. “His cousin, Jason, is quite dashing. He is also in residence much of the time. I suppose if I were to guess—” She broke off again. “I am sorry, Coralee, but I simply cannot imagine any of the young men who paid calls at the house murdering our dear, sweet Laurel and her innocent little baby. That is what you are thinking, is it not?”

“It’s a possibility. Perhaps the man she fell in love with did not love her in return. Perhaps he did not wish to be forced to marry her.”

“And perhaps she simply went for a walk that night and was waylaid by footpads. Perhaps they tried to rob her, but when they discovered she had no money, they tossed her and the child into the river.”

It was a notion Corrie had already considered. “I suppose that could have happened. Anything seems possible at this point in time, except that Laurel would kill herself and her child.”

“Coralee is right,” Allison said softly, from where she perched like a bird on the edge of the sofa. “Laurel loved little Joshua with every ounce of her being. She would never have done anything to hurt him. And she was so clearly determined that no one would find out the identity of the father. It does make one wonder….”

Corrie nodded. “It does indeed.”

Aunt Agnes eyed her warily. “I am loath to ask, but I suppose I must. Tell us, Coralee, what exactly is it you propose to do?”

She stiffened her spine. At the moment she wasn’t certain. But she was going to do something. Of that she was completely sure.

Excited at her discovery, Corrie climbed the steps of Heart to Heart and opened the heavy front door. As she walked into the long, narrow printing area, she spotted Krista coming out of the back room, heading for her office. Corrie followed her and hurriedly closed the door.

“Krista—you are not going to believe what I’ve found!”

Her friend whirled toward her, apparently not aware until then that Coralee had entered. “So you are still digging. I know you are determined to come up with something to validate your belief that Laurel was murdered, but are you sure your sister wouldn’t rather you simply accepted her death and got on with your life?”

“They say she killed her own child. Do you believe my sister would want the world to believe she did something as heinous as that?”

“The police found no sign of robbery, Corrie. There were no incriminating marks on the body.”

“She had been in the water for several days when she was found. The constable said it was impossible to tell exactly what had happened, and there was a bruise on the side of her head.”

“Yes, and if I recall, the constable believed she must have hit her skull when she fell into the river. The police believe the baby drowned and simply washed out to sea.”

“And I say the police are wrong. Laurel was killed by someone who didn’t want the secret of the child’s birth known, or had some other nefarious motive.”

Krista sighed. “Well, there have certainly been murders committed for far less reason than preventing some sort of scandal.”

“Yes, and when Agnes mentioned the Earl of Tremaine, I began to think. Some years back, I’d heard gossip about him. He was whispered about at a number of affairs, and I even made mention of his scandalous reputation once or twice in my column. I decided to go back through some of our older editions. Lady Charlotte Goodnight wrote the “Heartbeat” column in the days when your mother ran the paper. I took a look at those.”