‘Leyburn deserved what he got for encouraging Knotte. The fool paid for his education and told everyone he was the most talented poet in our generation to come out of Cumberland. And do you know what?’
‘Nope– I’m all ears.’
‘I told Knotte what I’d done on the way home and he thought I was joking even when I explained how I’d lured Sir Richard out by pretending to be him. I’d sent word that he’d decided to emigrate to try his fortune abroad and begged Sr Richard to see him off, hinting he would appreciate a parting gift in farewell.’
‘So that’s why Sir Richard went to the river at that hour.’
‘Like a lamb to the slaughter.’
That wasn’t funny but she forced a smile. That explained how Sir Richard had fallen into this man’s murderous hands.
‘How did Mr Barton get onto the island, do you know?’
‘Knotte must’ve fished him out of the lake. Ah– we’d better avoid the ferry.’ He tacked to the western shore where the woods were thickest.
‘And who put him in?’
‘Ding dong bell, Barton’s in the well. I suppose there’s no harm telling you? The night before the fishing party, Knotte had finally realised I’d told him the truth. He went to Barton and said that I had done something terrible in London. Barton didn’t want to believe him so got in his boat and sailed across to Waterhead to have it out with me.’ He grimaced. ‘Barton likes to think the best of people and it was easy to persuade him that poor Knotte had finally cracked and should be incarcerated for his own good. We sailed back together to take him to a local asylum.’
‘What did you do then?’
‘What I had to. If Barton started wondering, then he might cause me real difficulties, so halfway across to his cottage, I threw him overboard and held him under until he stopped moving.’ He frowned. ‘I’ve no idea how he ended up in that tent. I guess Knotte must’ve been watching and pulled him out. I didn’t see that because I’d already decided to stage Barton’s suicide as another incident from the poem.’
‘You think Knotte swam out to save him?’
‘He must’ve done. He was proud of his lifesaving skills– he’d taught himself after his father’s drowning. Bored us all rigid with showing off his strokes at the tarn. I should’ve thought that he might be watching what we did.’
That meant while Knotte had rescued Barton and made plans to hide him from further attempts by Langhorne, the killer had been sailing south to make the short journey to Esthwaite Water and leave evidence on Elter Holme. She and Jacob had completely misunderstood the shy young man– Knotte was, in fact, a hero. He’d probably been hoping that Barton would recover from his near-drowning and back up his story. Instead, he’d succumbed to pneumonic fever and was fortunate to have survived thus far. That left Knotte having to pretend to believe Barton had either killed himself or run off, all the while knowing Langhorne had attempted to silence him. It had to have been terrifying, hiding from a murderer when he knew what else Langhorne had done. He could probably see Langhorne was weaving a net of lies and thought he was going to be caught in it somehow unless his ally woke up to defend him.
If he did recover, Barton would surely remember it was Langhorne who tried to drown him, not Knotte. Once Langhorne had finished with her, what were the odds he’d go back to make sure the fever patient died before he regained his full wits? She had to get the upper hand somehow.
Dora searched the horizon for anyone within hail, but Langhorne kept changing course to avoid crossing paths with another vessel. He gave her a vicious little smile every time he noted her disappointment that another chance of rescue had been foiled.
Dora decided she hated this lake. It was too bloody big.
But she knew her man now. Her mind had been speeding through her options and come to a realisation. The only way to stop him thinking of murder was to appeal to his desire to bed every woman. That was his biggest weakness. He was one of those men who could be led by their cock. She’d known his type before. She was going to have to try it, wasn’t she, no matter how distasteful the prospect was?
Now or never. She assumed her role and gave him a come-hither smile.
‘Mr Langhorne, I must say I’m impressed.’
‘Impressed?’ He set the rudder for another tack away from the ferry heading up the lake.
‘There’s nothing more alluring than a man who knows what he wants and takes the necessary steps to get it. I’m the same. I’ll do everything necessary to get what I want.’
He was amused, cruel lips quirked in a sardonic smile. ‘Miss Fitz-Pennington, Dora, don’t tell me you are considering sacrificing your virtue to save your life?’
Dora silently wished that he be the one sacrificed, preferably slowly, with a rusty blade. ‘That’s sweet of you but I don’t consider I have any virtue to sacrifice. I consider it a trade.’ She parted her breech-clad legs in a not-so-subtle invitation. Anything to get off this lake. On land, she’d have a better chance of escape.
‘Every woman has her price,’ he mocked.
That reminded her of the blasted viscount. It seemed someone thought they had found hers. ‘I’d call it a fair exchange, sir. I want to live. You want to get away Scot free and carry on tupping every woman you can. I’m offering you both those things. You get what you want. I get what I want.’
‘And then?’ He narrowed his eyes as if considering it. Was he? Or was the cruel bastard just toying with her?
‘Then I disappear– you never see me again. It’s not hard for someone like me to vanish– I change my name, go abroad. Who would care?’
‘What’s to stop you going back to your doctor lover and telling him exactly what bargain we struck?’
