He canted his head, smirking at her. “Whatever would have aided our cause the most. This is war, Bridget, and war begets casualties. It’s only a natural state of things.”
The breath rushed from her, bile rising in her throat. Thank God Leo had stopped her that day. She would have unwittingly led the goodhearted young lad to his murder.
“He is an innocent,” she said, tears stinging her eyes.
His eyes burned darker, anger stiffening his expression. “And how many innocents do you think the damned English have killed? How many lads died with hunger gnawing their bellies, because greedy English landlords demanded their rent during famine? Do you think any of the rich lords gave a damn about all the Irish they sent to their deaths?”
She flinched, for they were arguments she too had raised. She had always believed in Home Rule, and she had not been averse to tactics that would frighten the English into righting the wrongs done to the people of her native land. The brilliance of fighting against a wealthy, powerful nation with nothing more than civilian foot soldiers had appealed to her. Independence had seemed necessary.
Fighting against authority, she could approve. Death, however, was taking the cause too far. Murdering the Chief Secretary in cold blood in the midst of a park had been too far. Attacking the man’s innocent young son was the devil’s own work.
And she had been complicit. The realization made her ill.
“He is an innocent, John,” she repeated. “I believe in Home Rule, but I do not believe in killing to obtain it.”
“That’s a pity, Bridget.” He raked her with a scornful gaze. “Because I’m afraid you’ll be the one doing the killing.”
She felt as if she had somehow gotten trapped inside a nightmare. “No, John.”
“Do you want Cullen out of Kilmainham?” he pressed, his voice toneless.
The thought of her brother trapped inside the gaol made her shudder. “You know I do.”
“Then you will do as I ask.”
“How can you be certain he will be released?” she demanded, not wanting to hear the price for Cullen’s freedom for fear it was the cost of her own soul.
“I told you, I have eyes and ears within the prison. Freeing him will not be an easy or a simple task. But in return for your show of loyalty, I will see it done.”
“That is what you said before,” she pointed out, delaying the inevitable sentence he would deliver. “I did what you asked of me, and yet my brother remains a prisoner.”
“You failed miserably, as we have already established.” He drew nearer, and the scents of pipe smoke and hair oil assailed her. “There will be great danger in liberating Cullen from Kilmainham. In return, there must be great reward. The Duke of Carlisle took a liking to you, else you would not be here now.”
“He does not like me at all,” she denied.
“Untrue, or you would have been clapped in irons immediately, bullet wound or no. Yet he tended to you, married you.” John’s smirk turned nasty. “Why do you think that is, Bridget?”
She pressed her lips together, staring at him, not wanting to answer.
“I’ll tell you why it is.” He took another step closer. “You lifted your skirts for him. There is no other reason. But I don’t care about your treachery. All I care about is ending him. He’s too dangerous, and he knows too much.”
She almost retched, then and there. “I will not kill him, if that is what you are asking.”
John’s smile faded. “I’m not asking, Bridget. I’m telling you it’s what you must do if you want Cullen freed from gaol.”
Good, sweet God.
Bridget clenched her fists in her skirts. “You should aid Cullen without a price.”
John shook his head. “Everything in this life has a price. Your brother, in exchange for the Duke of Carlisle. You shall be the Delilah to his Samson.”
Denial shot through her, making her stomach clench. “I cannot do it, John. Do not ask it of me. I will do anything else, anything but this, if it means Cullen can be freed.”
“This is the price.” John was solemn as a holy man presiding over a funeral. “Your brother’s trial looms, my dear. He will be sentenced to hang, and you know it. Your brother’s life, in exchange for the duke’s.”
“Never.” The word emerged from her before she could think better of its utterance.
But as it happened, it ceased to matter, for one moment she stood alone with John, listening to the vitriol pouring from him, and the next, the door broke open. It slammed against the opposing wall with such violent force, plaster rained to the floor.
