The violent report of a pistol tore through the small chamber. A perfect blossom of red spread on John’s forehead. His eyes rolled. The pistol fell from his fingers, and in the next moment, he too fell to the floor in one loud thump.
It was over.
And Leo was unharmed, thank the Lord.
Stifling a sob, she looked to her husband, relief bursting inside her, thinking to throw herself into his arms. But what she saw kept her rooted to the spot. In his place stood a stranger. He stared at her, an implacable expression chiseled upon his handsome face.
“Gather yourself, madam. There is much awaiting us this day, and you will need to be strong.”
“Leo,” she began, starting toward him.
“No.” He held up a staying hand, his voice hard, punishing. “Do not insult my intelligence. Do not dare to offer me more of your lies.”
“Please.” She was not above begging. The terror of the moment, the fear that had coiled within her like a serpent, was making her weak. She needed him. Craved his embrace, his reassurance.
But she had forfeited her right to those. She realized that now. She had betrayed him in coming here, and he would never forgive her for her terrible mistake.
“It is over, madam. Collect yourself, and then the men must come in to take the body. He will not receive the justice he so richly deserved, but perhaps our maker will rectify that. You, on the other hand, must wait to receive your sentence.”
“Leo,” she said again, needing him to hear her. To understand. “I only came here because of Cullen. I would never have betrayed you. I pray you know that.”
“You could have come to me with your concerns. I would have helped you, Bridget. I prayyouknow that.” He paused, grimmer than she had ever seen him. “But you did not seek me out, did you? You did not trust me enough for that. No, instead, you trusted a villain who would point a pistol at your head to gain what he wanted most. A man who would just as soon kill you as use you to abduct an innocent child for his own nefarious purposes.”
“It is not what you think, Leo,” she said. “He promised me he would aid my brother. That he would help him to escape from Kilmainham.”
“He was lying to you,” Leo snapped. “Using you to force you into doing what he wanted. And you allowed it.”
Yes.She closed her eyes for a brief, steadying moment, before forcing them open once more. He was right. She had been so very foolish and naïve. Torn between right and wrong, husband and brother, love and duty, want and need. But she could see the difference now. Too late.
“I love you, Leo. Please believe me.” It was pathetic, and she knew it, even as she said the words.
But he remained unmoved. “Only a mindless fool would believe anything you say, madam. You have betrayed me and fooled me, used me and lied to me, far too many times for me to give a damn about a single thing you say ever again.”
She flinched from the sting of his verbal assault, but in the end, there was nothing she could say, and nothing she could do, to erase what had already happened between them. He was right. She was wrong. John was dead.
A handful of men appeared on the threshold then, bursting forth, pouring into the chamber.
“Escort the duchess to Blayton House,” Leo told one of them. “Do not let her out of your sight.”
“Leo,” she tried.
“Not now, madam,” he snapped. “I want you gone.”
Chapter Twenty
Years ago, whenshe had thrown him over for a duke with an older title and a more prestigious lineage than he could boast, Lady Jane Reeves had taught Leo a lesson:only a fool trusts blindly.Somehow, he had forgotten that old knowledge when he had fallen into the eyes of a raven-haired Irish siren.
But he remembered it now, a fortnight after he had put a bullet between the eyes of the last member of the vicious Fenian ring who had plotted the death of the Duke of Burghly. Fourteen days after he had last looked into those brilliant blue eyes, shining with tears, when he had turned his back on her and left her behind at Harlton Hall. Fourteen nights since he had last slept with her at his side, since he had last kissed and touched and sank inside her.
Fourteen was a small number in comparison to all the rest of his days. Paltry. Smaller than a dust mote.
Why then, did it feel like an eternity? Why was she all he could think of just minutes after he had finalized stepping down as leader of the Special League?
His carriage rocked over the streets of London, putting distance between his past and his present, hurtling him forward into a new era. One that filled him with trepidation. He stared out the window, numb. It wasn’t the familiar buildings or the crush of other carriages and pedestrians he saw. Rather, it was her.
Bridget, his wife, his duchess, his love.
Her cloud of dark hair, her bright eyes, the mouth he loved to kiss. She was a ghost who haunted his every waking and sleeping hour. She was everywhere, and yet she was nowhere within reach.
