A muscle twitched beneath Jasper’s eye, but he reached a hand out and flicked his wrist. The footman rushed forward and deposited the small parcel in his hand, then hurriedly left with another mumbled apology.
Jasper’s attention narrowed to the writing on the parcel.Francis.
His skin grew cold, his hands damp with nervous perspiration, and…hell, but his eyes began to blur. He was a sodding mess.
Absently, he raised the parcel to his nose and sniffed. It seemed to be simple parchment; no lingering scent of laurel water. With shaking fingers, he untied the twine and opened the wrapping to reveal?—
“Fucking hell,” he cursed low, his voice hallow and hopeless even to his own ears.
He was distantly aware of the others, of their gasps, their cries of horror, and their vows to find Francis as they took in the parcel’s contents. Through it all, Jasper’s gaze never wavered.
In the parcel was a large clump of brown, curling hair, covered in soot and appearing singed along the edges.
* * *
Maria’s limbshad once more moved from pain and discomfort into a state of aching numbness. She wished so badly that she could move, but that was, of course, impossible.
Francis stomped across the room to presumably sit at his writing desk. His movements were stilted, agitated, and that made Maria’s stomach turn over with nerves. The man was entirely unpredictable, and when he was angry, even more so. He’d seemed rather pleased with himself earlier; what could have gone awry?
“The dukedom ismine,” he muttered, his voice dripping with vitriol. “My father was the eldest. He cannot deny that.”
Parchment and fabric shifted, before the sound of a pen scratching against parchment reached her ears.
“He’ll not see my siblings dead and live to boast about it. Which is why my next gift must be more meaningful to the bastard.” His voice turned pensive and optimistic once more. “Mayhap a finger or two. Or her tongue—he seemed to enjoy it so much, might as well have it as a gift.”
Low, menacingly gleeful laughter filled the small room, sending gooseflesh over Maria’s skin.
He shifted once more, his steps softer now as he approached her.
“Open up for another dose, now, lovely lightskirt. We mustn’t have you awakening.”
The gentleclinkof spoon against a glass vial told her how very close he was.Come closer, she silently urged.Thiswas her moment, her one opportunity to rid herself—and London—of this madman. This went far beyond her assignment, or her desire to see Jasper and Juliana happy; this was a matter of her life, her dismemberment, her death.
The heat of his breath brushed her cheek as he leaned closer, and she stretched her fingers just far enough beneath the folds of her skirts to pull the hilt of her dagger tightly into her palm.
Now.
His spoon touched her lips, and in one upward arch, Maria sliced through his arm and chest.
Francis roared, scrambling backward and withdrawing his pistol, just as she aimed hers.
“Die, bitc?—”
Bang! Bang!
* * *
“It’s her sodding hair,”Jasper breathed, his body buzzing with horror and the burning desire to find his bastard of a cousin and bring him to justice.
“Are we able to trace the parcel’s origin?” Mr. Baxter asked.
Jasper inclined his head, his stomach churning. “I’ve never attempted it before, but I daresay it is worth the?—”
Bang! Bang!
Ice froze Jasper’s veins. “That wasn’t… That couldn’t be…”
Mr. Baxter nodded. “Gunfire.”
