I came from.”
“Of course, you do,” Abigail said, exaggerated understanding lacing her words. “Don’t pay them any mind.”
Landon pulled open the front door. He glared at his sister.
“Come on, Lilly. You have to help.”
Abruptly, Lilly turned and followed her brother out into the rain.
Abigail let out a long-suffering sigh. “I can’t wait until they outgrow the surly stage.”
Caroline gave a silent sigh of her own. She didn’t want to explain her reason for being here any further to her increasingly worrisome relatives.
A middle-age man came out of the adjacent room. “I see our guests have arrived,” his deep voice boomed.
“Yes, darling,” Abigail said. “Come meet your niece and her young man.”
He held out his hand to Don first. “Samuel Maddox.”
“Donovan Cavanaugh. Call me Don.”
“Good of you to come, Don.” Samuel turned his attention to Caroline with a welcoming smile. “I’m so happy to meet you, Caroline.”
As she shook his hand, she couldn’t help staring into his amber eyes and feeling like she was looking in a mirror. He had raven-colored hair and an olive complexion, much like her own. A blood relative. Her uncle.
“Where are those kids?” Abigail gestured toward the front door with a graceful, bejeweled hand. “Sam, darling, the children are supposed to be bringing in our guests’ bags. I’m afraid they may have gotten distracted by the split oak.”
The front door burst open on her last word and the twins stumbled in tugging the suitcases behind them. The sound of heavy rain pelting the earth filled the entryway until Lilly slammed the door shut. Pervading humidity made the house damp like a mausoleum. The teens shook their heads, like shaggy dogs, spraying water on everything within reach of the flying droplets.
Abigail said nothing to the twins, though her lips pursed in disapproval. Instead, she turned back to Caroline and Don. “Come, I’ll show you to your rooms.”
Don handed Caroline the candle, then he grabbed the cases and followed behind. The second story was decorated much like the downstairs—once-elegant furnishings worn bare and shabby. As they passed the open door of one room, Caroline glanced in. Aided by the glow from the candle she carried, she caught the brief impression of cotton-candy-pink walls and ruffles. Most certainly Lilly’s domain. Yet the girl didn’t seem like the frilly type.
Abigail led them to the end of the hall and stopped before a closed door. “Mr. Cavanaugh, you’ll stay here. Caroline, you will be over here.” She moved to the closed door directly across the hall and pushed the door open with a flourish.
Caroline entered to find a beautiful four-poster canopy bed with white linens, a dresser and a vanity and spindle chair. A bench seat stretched beneath the window overlooking the back of the property.
Don set her suitcase on the floor just inside the door. A flash of lightning, lit up the window, making the delicate lace window coverings appear translucent. A second later thunder rumbled. Caroline noticed Don’s slight flinch. She was glad they’d made it to the house before the storm had worsened.
“As soon as you come back downstairs we’ll serve dinner,” Abigail said, clearly unperturbed by the raging weather outside.
Caroline waited until the other woman was out of earshot to whisper to Don, “I hate to think that one of these people wants me and my grandfather dead.”
“Your uncle has the most to gain with you out of the way,” Don stated. “He’d be the sole heir apparent.”
She swallowed back the unease clogging her throat.
Her uncle had greeted her with such warmth. He, like Elijah, had seemed truly glad to see her. Was it all an act? She’d have to use her time here to find the truth. It was the only way she could be safe—and the only way to help her grandfather. Elijah Maddox needed someone to believe him. Someone to protect him. And with her private bodyguard/fake fiancé’s help, she was that someone. And maybe while she searched for answers, she’d be able to learn about her mother, as well—something she’d wanted to do for as long as she could remember.
Despite the apparent danger, she was staying.
Don escorted Caroline to the dining room to find the family already seated at the formal table. Three tall candelabras spaced equal distances apart on the table provided barely adequate light.
Two empty places awaited them. Sensing tension as thick as mortar smoke, Don curbed his desire to whisk Caroline out of the creepy place and instead held out the empty chair next to her uncle at the far end of the table. Landon sat in the chair next to her. Don rounded the table to sit across from Caroline on Samuel’s left next to Lilly. Abigail sat at the opposite end of the table. Gold-rimmed china gleamed in the candlelight.
“Lucky for us, dinner was ready before the power went down,” Abigail said.
“Horace mentioned there was a back-up generator?” Don asked.
“Yes, in the cellar,” Samuel answered. “It’s gas powered. I told Horace it could wait until after dinner.”
“Dining by candlelight is such a treat,” Abigail said. “Don’t you agree, Caroline?”
“The candles certainly add ambiance,” Caroline replied.
An older woman emerged from a swinging door carrying a steaming platter of vegetables, Horace followed with a platter of sliced roast beef.
“Asparagus? Ugh,” Landon whined as the woman placed the green spears on his plate.
“Mind your manners, young man,” Samuel said.
Landon shot a venomous glance toward Caroline, as if she were to blame for the vegetables. Perhaps the kids were not required to eat veggies regularly. Still, the animosity coming off the kid grated on Don. He pinned the boy with a stare until Landon noticed and dropped his gaze to his plate.
“Elijah’s illness, was it sudden?” Don asked Samuel, trying to gage his reaction.
A look of sadness passed over the older man’s face. “This fall he suffered a nasty bout of pneumonia. According to Dr. Reese, the pneumonia triggered an Addison crisis.”
“His body attacked his glands and chewed ’em up like mini, hungry carnivores,” Lilly said with relish before stabbing a chunk of meat and devouring it in one bite.
“Gross,” Landon complained, dropping his fork with a clatter.
“Lilly, that’s enough,” Abigail commanded.
“But it’s true,” she countered with a smirk at her brother.
“Yes, it’s true,” Samuel said. “Father’s body attacked his adrenal glands. It’s an autoimmune disease.”
Samuel had confirmed what Elijah had
