“What are we going to do?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I’ll think of something.” But what? He knew how to handle himself in almost any situation, but this…the dead body of his uncle in the room of his fiancee…
Good God. This was beyond even him.
Think. He had to think. If he were writing this…
“First we shut the door,” he said firmly, trying to sound as if he knew what he was doing. He gently removed his arms from around Annabel, making sure that she could stand on her own, and then moved swiftly to the door. He closed it firmly, then strode across the room to light a candle.
Annabel was standing where he’d left her, hugging her arms to her body. She looked freezing.
“Do you need a blanket?” he asked, and it seemed the most ludicrous question, under the circumstances. But she was cold, and he was a gentleman, and some things were just too deeply ingrained to be ignored.
She shook her head.
Seb planted his hands on his hips and stared down at his uncle, lying motionless, facedown on the carpet. He wasn’t sure how he’d thought it would end between the two of them, but definitely not likethis . Damn. What was he supposed to do now? “If I were writing this…” he muttered, trying to summon whatever creative corner of his imagination he usually reserved for his characters. “If I were writing this…”
“What did you say?”
He turned back to Annabel. He’d been so lost in his own thoughts he’d almost forgot she was there. “Nothing,” he said, giving his head a shake. She probably thought he was babbling utter nonsense.
“I’m better now,” she announced.
“What?”
She made a motion with her hand, a little bit of a twist, a little bit of a wave. “I have my head. Whatever we need to do, I can do it.”
He blinked, surprised by her quick recovery. “Are you certain? I can—”
“I’ll cry when we’re done,” she said sharply.
“I love you,” he said, thinking this had to be the least appropriate time imaginable to tell her. But there was something about her standing there in her plain cotton nightgown, matter-of-fact and capable as a
goddess. How could he not love her?
“Have I told you that?” he added.
She shook her head, her lips trembling into a smile. “I love you, too.”
“Good,” he said simply, because this wasn’t the time for hearts and flowers. But he could not resist adding, “It would be bloody inconvenient for me if you didn’t.”
“I think we need to get him back to his own room,” she said, looking down at Newbury with a queasy expression.
Sebastian nodded, grimly estimating his uncle’s weight. It would not be easy, even with both of them. “Do you know where his room is?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Do you?”
“No.” Damn.
“We can put him in the saloon,” she suggested. “Or anywhere else there might be drink. If he was drunk, then maybe he would have fallen over.” She swallowed. “Hit his head?”
Sebastian let out a long breath, planting his hands on his hips as he looked down at his uncle. He looked even more hideous in death than he had in life. Big, bloated…At least no one would doubt that his heart might have given out, especially after the excitement of the day. “His head, his heart,” he muttered. “It doesn’t matter. I feel unhealthy just looking at him.”
He stood still for another moment, putting off the inevitable, and then finally he squared his shoulders and said, “I’ll grab him under the arms. You take the legs. We’ll have to roll him over first.”
They got him onto his back, then moved to their spots and tried to lift. “Dear God in heaven,” Sebastian grunted, the words flying from his mouth.
“This isn’t going to work,” Annabel said.
“It has to work.”
They lifted and dragged, heaving with exertion, but they couldn’t get the body to clear the floor for more than a few seconds at a time. There was no way they would be able to move him all the way to the saloon without making enough noise to wake someone.
“We’re going to have to get Edward,” Sebastian finally said.
Annabel’s eyes flew to his in question.
“I would trust him with my life.”
She nodded. “Maybe Louisa…”
“Couldn’t lift a feather.”
“I think she’s stronger than she looks.” But Annabel realized she sounded more hopeful than anything else. She bit her lip and looked back down at Newbury. “I think we need all the help we can get.”
Sebastian started to nod, because theydid need all the help they could get. But as it turned out, the help that did arrive came in the most surprising form…
Chapter Twenty-five
What the devil is going on in here?”
Annabel froze. Not in horror. It was something far, far worse than horror.
“Annabel?” her grandmother snapped, marching in through the connecting door between their rooms. “It sounds like a herd of elephants. How do you expect a woman to get any sleep when—Oh.” She stopped in her tracks, taking in the sight of Sebastian. Then she looked down and saw the earl. “Bloody hell.”
She made a sound that Annabel could not quite interpret. Not a sigh, really; more of a grunt. Of supreme irritation.
“Which one of you killed him?” she demanded.
“Neither,” Annabel said quickly. “He just…died.”
“In your room?”
“I didn’t invite himin ,” she ground out.
“No, you wouldn’t.” And damn if her grandmother didn’t sound almost regretful. Annabel could only stare at her in shock. Or maybe wonder.
“What are you doing here?” Lady Vickers asked, turning her frosty glare to Sebastian.
“Exactly what you think, my lady,” he said. “Unfortunately, my timing was not what it could have been.” He looked down at his uncle. “He was like this when I arrived.”
“Better this way,” Lady Vickers muttered. “If he’d come in with you on top of her…Good Lord, I can’t even imagine the commotion.”
She ought to blush, Annabel thought. She really ought. But she couldn’t summon the will. She wasn’t sure anything could embarrass her now.
“Well, we’ll have to get rid of him,” her grandmother said, using the same voice Annabel imagined she would have used about an old sofa. She cocked her head toward Annabel. “I must say, this all worked out nicely foryou .”
“What are you saying?” Annabel asked, horrified.
