Page 80 of The Hidden Heart

She wondered where she would put her few pieces of jewelry now. The box was clearly beyond repair. She frowned, thinking, then suddenly brightened as she recalled the lovely inlaid wood box the General had left to her in his will. It was far too large for her jewelry, but the necklaces and earrings would fit well enough in one of its little compartments.

Jessica walked over to the trunk at the foot of her bed, which she had left largely packed, not knowing whether the duke would ship her and Gabriela off soon. Lifting the lid, she took out the folded summery dresses that lay on top, useless for this time of year, and bent to retrieve the elegant box. It was large, over a foot long and almost that wide, though it was not as heavy as one would think from looking at it.

She set it down on the dresser, running her hand admiringly across its satin-smooth surface. She turned the little key in the lock to open it, but before she could lift the lid, a muffled grunt in the hall startled her.

She raised her head and turned, looking out into the hall. Lord Kestwick stood there, staring at her, his eyes wide in his face.

“So that’s it!” he exclaimed, and he looked from her to the box. “A different box!”

Jessica gazed at him blankly. “What are—”

In that moment it struck her. It was Kestwick who had destroyed her jewelry box. She did not understand it in the slightest, but it was clear that he was galvanized by the sight of the General’s box. He had mistaken her jewelry case for the one the General had given her. In the next instant other things slid into place—someone had broken in and searched the General’s house, and then someone had broken into the nursery. Had the intruder been after this box?

“It was you!” she exclaimed.

“Shut up!” Kestwick strode quickly into her room, swinging the door shut behind him. His eyes flamed with a malevolence such as Jessica had never encountered. She took an involuntary step backward, but he reached her in the next instant and slapped her hard, knocking her to the floor.

“God damn you!” His rage seemed all the more terrible for the fact that it was delivered in a low voice. “Yes, I did it! So what? The whore deserved it!”

Jessica, her head ringing from the blow he had dealt her, looked up at him dazedly. The import of his words sank in, and she realized with a shiver that chilled her to the bone that Lord Kestwick had killed Mrs. Woods.

CHAPTER 18

“Bloody, interfering bitch!” Kestwick went on. Jessica was unsure whether he was referring to her or to Mrs. Woods. He reached down and grabbed Jessica’s wrist, jerking her to her feet. He pulled her back against him, wrapping one arm tightly around her, and with the other he pulled a short, thin-bladed knife out of a back pocket and held it against her throat. “Say a word and I’ll slit your throat right here.”

They stood that way for a moment in front of the dresser, looking at their images in the mirror. “What am I going to do?” he mused. “I cannot let you go now. How the hell did you know?”

“I didn’t,” Jessica replied honestly. “I meant that it was you who tore apart my little jewelry box. Who broke into the General’s house and into the nursery. I didn’t know you killed Mrs. Woods until just now, when you said that.”

He cursed, tightening his arm around her waist cruelly. “Well, there’s no use for it. I have to do something with you.”

“Why did you do it?” Jessica asked. “What do you want with that box?”

His eyebrows lifted. “You mean you don’t know? You haven’t found it?”

“Found what? Know what? I haven’t the slightest idea what you are talking about.”

He let out a laugh that bordered on hysteria. “Christ! I cannot believe it! You don’t know.”

“No, I don’t.”

“So the old fool lied to me—or maybe he hid it too well for you to find.”

“Who—the General?” Jessica met his eyes in the mirror, cold and flat as a snake’s eyes, and suddenly she knew with certainty that this man had murdered the General, as well. “He didn’t die of a another apoplexy, did he? You were there that night, weren’t you? You did something to him. Why?”

“Be quiet! You talk entirely too much. All right. We have to make this look like an accident—no! I have a much better idea.” His eyes glittered evilly. “You will write a note confessing to killing Marie.”

“You knew her from before,” Jessica guessed. “We were looking at it the wrong way round, weren’t we? You didn’t recognize her and apply pressure to her. She recognized you! She knew something about you, from her days as a lightskirt. What did she do? Did she demand money not to tell?”

Kestwick sneered. “Silly bitch! As if I would knuckle under to the threats of a tart like her.”

“What was it she knew?”

“I told you to be quiet!” he snapped, again squeezing her chest so tightly she could scarcely breathe. “It doesn’t matter why. Now, first, you are going to write a suicide note. Let’s see, why shall we say you shoved her down the stairs? Perhaps the two of you were birds-of-paradise together, and she recognized you. She threatened to tell your new employer.” He smiled thinly. “Or should I say lover?”

Jessica glanced at him in the mirror, startled. “Oh, yes,” he said. “I have seen how he looks at you. Were you so foolish as to think that he loves you? That he might marry you? He never will, you know.”

“You are giving me romantic advice now?” Jessica asked, stung by the absurdity of it.