“Get out now,” he rasped.
Before Isla could blink, they were out of the carriage and standing on a slick, rain-damp stretch of cobblestone near the Thames. The murky, fast-moving river glinted blackly in the pre-dawn gloom, a sliver of the crescent moon looking down on them. A small, narrow launch boat bobbed nearby, tied to a wooden pier.
This is his escape plan.
Lamfort turned back to them, his face barely visible in the heavy mist that swirled.
“You thought the Duke could protect you? He is a man who hides behind contracts and walls, who could not protect Cecelia.”
“Watch what you say in front of the lad,” Isla implored.
“But I am the man who brought down his walls with a whisper in the shadows,” he said, ignoring her plea. “I will see it right,” he laughed, a high, maniacal sound that pierced her ears.
“Ye willnae do such a thing,” she said as she pulled the boy behind her, shielding him with her body. “Ye are nothin’ but acoward. Skulkin’ in the shadows, stealin’ away with a young lad and a duchess! Ye havenae thought this through!”
“Oh, I have not? I am an excellent planner you see.”
“What do ye mean, Lamfort?”
“You have you failed to see? It wasIwho spread the rumor about the Duke… and your little sister!”
“What?” She screamed, tears prickling behind her eyes. “Why would ye do that?
“It makes perfect sense!”
“Nay! It makes nay sense,” Isla rasped. “Ye are mad!”
“I hoped that foolish Highlander, Lord Dalrigh, would do the job for me and kill Ealdwick in a duel.” He spat on the ground. “But you had to go and mess that up for me, dressing up as a boy and somehow seducing him for yourself.”
“Stop it! How do ye even ken that?”
“I have eyes and ears everywhere,” he spat at her.
“This is madness!”
“But I think that this all will be better in the end. I will take the last piece of what he loved, and then he will be left with nothing. Just like me.”
Isla clutched Oliver tightly then, pulling the boy behind her skirt. “Oliver is not a piece of anythin’! He is Cecilia’s son! She would have wanted him safe, loved, and raised in light! Not dragged into the dark by a madman! What is wrong with ye?”
Lamfort waved the pistol, his breath catching in putrid, ragged gasps. “You will only corrupt him, Scot! He is of noble blood!”
“Ye have no right!”
“I do; he must be protected! From you and that blasted Duke! He must be pure, like Cecilia. Yes…yes… I will take him far away, where Ealdwick’s taint will never reach him!” He gestured to the river, the water looking impossibly cold and deep.
“Please, I am beggin’ ye… ye can still walk away. Ye havenae hurt anyone,” Isla pleaded, inching toward him and her arm outstretched for the gun. “We can pretend this never happened…”
“Try to take him from me, and I swear on Cecilia’s grave, I will throw the boy into the river first.”
“Cecilia would never want this!”
“He is better off spared from your corruption if I cannot have him. I swear it.”
“She would want her son to live!”
“Stop!” Lamfort snared, his grip on the pistol suddenly unsteady, his eyes darting frantically. “Be silent!”
Then, his gaze snapped to the swirling, foggy water, and his voice cracked, losing its menace.
