Free A Clandestine Courtship by Allison Lane Page B

several minutes. He had nearly decided she would say no more when she turned back to face him. “Mourning prevented me from hearing gossip. In fact, I did not even know John had come to Ridgeway at Christmas until after his body was found. And I know of nothing that might keep someone’s anger hot for months. But even if I did, I would not tell you. John was evil.”
    “Perhaps. But he was also my brother. I cannot condone murder.”
    “Nor I as a rule, but every rule has an exception. Instead of wasting your time looking for his killer, why don’t you repair some of the damage he caused?”
    He raised his brows in a silent question, hoping to learn more. He had already taken steps to address the problems revealed in the estate records, but he doubted they represented all of John’s crimes.
    “Your tenants pay twice the rent they should, and John authorized no repairs. Not even to Lane’s barn, which has all but collapsed. The mill has stood empty since Tate died, forcing people to travel many miles to grind their grain. And you should talk to Barnes at the Lusty Maiden. John held a house party at Ridgeway last year. The guests gathered at the inn one night for a boisterous party that burned down one wing. John refused to pay for the damages, so Barnes could not rebuild. The next day, the same group trampled most of Wilson’s crops, breaking fences and killing livestock for sport. I forgave Wilson’s rents last year to keep him out of debtors prison, but he is still suffering. I lacked the resources to do more.”
    “ You did?” But his surprise waned when he remembered that her husband had died shortly afterward. He didn’t know he had said the words aloud until she answered.
    “Frederick’s death made no difference. I have run Northfield for years. Even before John corrupted him, Frederick preferred that I do so.” She glanced at the mantel clock. “I must return to my guests. Forget John’s killer. No one will thank you for persecuting a man who did us all a favor. Redress his crimes, then turn your attention to the future.”
    She was gone before he could respond.
    James paced the sitting room for several minutes. He could sympathize with her thinking, but he could not drop the subject until he understood what had happened, and why. Guilt would not allow it.
    Yes, John’s behavior had been despicable. But it was worse than it might have been without his twin’s provocation. Left to his own devices, John would have lived out his life in London, wallowing in dissipation and debauchery – very like Devereaux was doing. The estate would have drifted into disrepair, but the tenants and staff would have survived.
    But John had not been given that option. James had inherited the money that should have supported that London life. Disappointment and fury had erupted in a tantrum aimed at anything James loved.
    Yet John’s anger had run deeper than pique over the fortune, James admitted, sinking into a chair. The will had merely been the last straw on a mountain of grievances, not all of them minor. There was the time twelve-year-old John had spooked Cotter’s team, spilling a load of grain into the river and ruining it. James had chided him for carelessly harming a tenant, not only proving that he alone genuinely cared for their dependents – and betraying the vulnerability John had later exploited – but inadvertently revealing the deed to their father, who had arrived in time to overhear the details. John’s punishment had been severe.
    There had been the incident in the stable when they were sixteen. John’s rough handling had sent a stallion into a frenzy. It might have sustained fatal injuries, but James had calmed the horse, earning his father’s gratitude and demonstrating the contrast between the brothers. Again John had been punished.
    But that had not been the worst insult. By the time they were three-and-twenty, their father had been fretting over John’s activities, even while excusing most