see, but it wasn’t in his power to stop the visions. A new generation of psychics had been born, and it would be up to them to decide how to use their ability.
After experiencing the disturbing memories that were her mother’s only legacy to her and learning of the events that had led to Brett’s arrest, Daisy had decided to sell the camera and avoid using her ability, much as Jo had. Daisy wouldn’t allow the visions to interfere with her life or draw her into the lives of the dead. Instead she was focusing on the future and preparing to start university in the fall to pursue her interest in architecture. Perhaps Alex and Mia would be just as wise when they became old enough to make their choice. Only time would tell.
Epilogue
Christmas 1777
Hertfordshire, England
Hector Radcliffe retired to the library after dinner and poured himself a tot of brandy, then reconsidered and added another three fingers’ worth. It was Christmas, and he was all alone, his mood on this most benevolent of days dangerously volatile. He’d come to visit his old Eton friend Howard Lowell at his country estate, but although Howard had been glad to see him and happy for Hector to stay for a few weeks, he’d made his excuses and gone to spend Christmas with his fiancée’s family in London, leaving Hector on his own for the holiday.
Normally, Hector wouldn’t have minded. It was a large, comfortable house with extensive grounds, an impressive library, and a well-stocked liquor cabinet, but this year he had really craved company, needing someone else’s voice to drown out the morbid thoughts in his head, some of which seemed to have taken up permanent residence in his skull during the ocean crossing.
Hector tossed back the brandy and considered pouring himself another. Who’d care if he was drunk? It wasn’t as though he had to behave himself in polite company. And he was feeling sorry for himself. He was nearly thirty-five, unmarried, disgraced, the career he’d dedicated his life to in tatters. He could hardly blame Jocelyn Sinclair or Jared Denning for his misfortune. It was his fault, and his alone. He should have arrested the duplicitous bitch and put her under lock and key. Instead, he’d given in the to the desire that had been tormenting him for months. He’d lost his head. Again. He’d worked so hard to control himself, to follow society’s rules, but there were times when something took over, a force more powerful than his self-restraint, and then he was lost.
He couldn’t control it, couldn’t even rein it in long enough to think things through. There had been that doxy in Southampton and then the serving wench at a tavern at West Point. He’d strangled the doxy to keep her from screaming, and the other one wouldn’t be making any complaints. He’d paid her off to keep her quiet. But his desire for Jocelyn had been his downfall. He’d have gladly taken her as his mistress, would have showered her with affection and gifts, but she’d had no interest in him. She’d wanted Denning. Hector had been mad with jealousy, his desire for her poisoned with his need to possess her, to bring her to her knees.
Well, he’d done that, but it had given him no pleasure. The fear and disgust in her eyes had been enough to shrivel his manhood, which was why he’d taken her from the back, so as not to see that face. And Denning… He’d done what any honorable man would do in his position. He’d protected a woman. Too bad he didn’t hang, Hector thought furiously. Denning would never forget what he’d seen, would never allow Hector to sleep peacefully at night. He’d not only been a witness, but a victim, and now he was the victor. He was out there, alive and well, in possession of knowledge Hector would have killed to suppress.
He reached for the ring on his left hand and turned it round and round, an unconscious habit that had formed since he’d taken the ring off Jocelyn in that Long Island wood. He hadn’t enjoyed killing her. He’d still wanted her, and she’d been carrying his child. Had the situation been different, he might have asked her to marry him, but Jocelyn wouldn’t have him, not after what he’d done and the consequences that had followed. His desire for her had destroyed him, and he would destroy her in turn, wipe that impudent look off her face