Beau’s answer was silence, and he wondered if Daniel had heard. He was about to ask the question a second time when Teddy reached down and put two envelopes in his hand.
“You’re a popular man,” Daniel called out, “and not in a way I think you want to be. Your face was all over that office. If I hear one more off-hand comment about me being a long-lost relation of a murderer, they might see my face on a poster.”
Miss Murray had commented early upon their arrival that the two men bore a resemblance, but neither of them saw it. Beau looked up at Teddy.
“Do you think we look alike?”
Teddy shrugged in that way young people did when they didn’t want to get involved in adult conversations. “You don’t look that different.”
Beau was about to turn his attention to the telegrams, which had been addressed to Daniel to aid in their subterfuge, but Miss Murray had already snatched them from his hand. Without ceremony she’d ripped open the one from Dominic Ashe. Even before he had the chance to ask, he heard the sigh of disappointment rush from her lips. Without looking at him, she handed it over.
The message was short and written in an agreed upon code that, to the uninformed, read more like a farm report than a murder investigation. It took a moment for Beau to decode it, but the meaning was clear: he was still a wanted man. There was a request for information on a few members of the board, as well as his sister and brother-in-law.
While the news was frustrating, it was unexpectedly tempered by his need to remain at The Grove. While he’d been utterly entranced with Miss Murray from the moment he’d laid eyes on her, the attraction had been physical. Over the past days, an undeniable tension wound between them. And while Beau wasn’t entirely certain the attraction was mutual, he’d caught the way she’d looked at him when she believed his attention was elsewhere.
But beyond his body’s desire for hers, something else had started to become evident. He liked spending time with her. She had a quick mind, a fierce sense of the world, and a romantic soul that intrigued him. And he found himself not yet ready to let that go.
It was selfish, he realized, but selfishness came as naturally to Beau as negotiating a troublesome business deal. For her part, Madeline Murray looked straight ahead, watching the trees rush by, her thoughts gone to a place Beau knew he could not reach. No doubt she was back in Everwell, with her friends and her garden. A place she loved.
And Christ, how he envied that. He could buy Everwell a hundred times over, but he couldn’t have what she had. No wonder she wanted to go. No wonder he didn’t. And wherever he eventually landed, he would be without her.
Because he would have to go. There was nothing about his life—not the money, the glittering parties, or even the travel to even bigger places with more money and more parties—she would find irresistible. There was only him, and he was certain he wasn’t enough. He had never been enough.
He tucked Dominic’s note away along with tangle of emotion it had brought, and turned his attention to the second. It was from Archie. A second offer had come from the board of George’s College, with a plea for urgency in the decision.
The fact the offer had gone to Halifax gave Beau some assurance. If the Board of Governors knew about the charges against Beau, which they must have by now, they were not particularly bothered by them, and they had no idea he was close by. Clearly, they were eager to buy, sweetening the pot by increasing the asking price by five percent. If that offer had come even the morning he’d arrived in Halifax, he would have signed it without hesitation. But everything had changed.
Had Daniel Chandler received a similar offer, Beau wondered? Was that the root of the conversation Mr. Taylor had with Daniel? The Chandler property bordered the same river, and while it was perhaps more visible from the road, was still graced by beautiful rolling hills and beautiful forests. Unease pricked on the edges of his thoughts.
Beau shoved the note back in the envelope, tucking in into his jacket pocket. Until Dominic uncovered the real killer—or at least proved beyond a shadow of a doubt Beau’s innocence—there was no hurry to sell the property or deal with Nelson Taylor.
It was nearly suppertime when they returned to the farm, and Beau’s shoulders sagged with relief as the cart turned up the secret road, snaking its way through the old forest. His chest rose with anticipation as the trees gave way to the view of the little stone house at the top of the hill. The cart slowed, the horses pulling a much heavier load, the clacking of the cartwheels drawing the attention of Annie. A second figure Beau didn’t recognize appeared in the door.
“Grampa!” Teddy yelled, waving at the man who took off his hat and waved it at the cart. “He’s back early.”
The cart came to a stop at last. Beau’s back and legs were cramped from the way he’d been sitting for the better part of the afternoon. Madeline Murray, however, was already on her feet, towering over him, her hand outstretched.
“If you’re going to toss me out of the wagon, I know I deserve it,” he said.
She looked down at him, one brow carefully arched. “If I break your neck, I won’t get my greenhouse.”
“Good to know my worth.” He took her hand and she helped pull him to his feet. He held onto her hand before she could try to let go of his grip.
“I’m sorry. I’ve done plenty of stupid things in my life,” he said, “but rarely thoughtless ones. It came from a misplaced desire to save some effort, and perhaps a delusion that this is one situation I cannot talk myself out of.”
She looked him up and down, taking the measure of him. When she nodded her acceptance, he blew out the breath he’d been holding.
She turned away and allowed Daniel to help her out of the wagon before Beau jumped down himself. Daniel was waving him over to the house.
“Come meet my father,” Daniel said, then turned to the man standing beside Annie.
Beau approached, catching the elder Chandler’s attention. He gave Beau the same appraising look that Annie had.
“You must be Emily’s young fella,” he said. “Hollis Chandler.”
Hollis Chandler was similar in build to Daniel, and at least twenty years his senior. His hair was grey, trimmed short, and his chin was covered with a tidy beard.
Beau took his hand and gave it a hearty shake, all the while trying to dispel this curious feeling of connection he had with a man he’d only just met. He wanted to brush it off as a long-standing familiarity with his mother, but it felt even deeper than that.
