“Do not harm her,” Hudson said. “She is an innocent and does not deserve to die at your hands any more than Mrs. Ainsley or Mrs. Lamson did. You killed them did you not? Was it you or was it Croydon?”
O’Rourke grinned. “Dead men cannot commit crimes.”
Dear heavens.Understanding dawned.
“You killed Croydon as well?” Hudson asked, shifting in her direction ever so slightly once more.
Enough that their fingers grazed.
She took comfort in that touch, however small.
“The stupid bastard was threatening me. It had to be done,” O’Rourke said.
“That is why you were so certain he would not be found.” Another slight step.
It occurred to her that Hudson was attempting to distract the inspector. Perhaps he had a plan.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Croydon did not enjoy his freedom for long.” O’Rourke’s expression turned sinister. “I could not afford for him to reveal my involvement in his crime ring. I am rising in the ranks. And then you had to turn up, relentless in your determination to find him. I couldn’t allow that to happen. But no matter how hard I tried to make certain you would stop and go back to playing duke, you were like a damned dog, nipping at my heels. I started following you around the city. You were getting closer. Too damned close. When I saw the woman go into your rooms, I knew what had to be done.”
“You killed Maude Ainsley,” Hudson said.
“She was a drunken whore,” O’Rourke said dismissively. “She deserved what happened to her. Everything was falling into place perfectly, except for the witnesses placing you at that damned club.”
“So you invented a new witness,” Elysande guessed. “Mrs. Lamson.”
O’Rourke’s lip curled, his mustache twitching. “Another whore. She wanted more money from me after I already paid her twenty pounds for her story and another ten to cause a disturbance outside Dunsworth when Croydon escaped. But she overestimated her worth. Besides, you just kept thwarting me, didn’t you? That ends tonight.” He pointed his pistol toward Elysande. “Duchess, come closer. Slowly.”
“Do not go,” Hudson said, keeping his voice low. “Remain where you are.”
The inspector sighed. “Perhaps I shall just kill her now and have done with it.”
“There is no need for her to be involved,” Hudson told him, his voice remarkably calm. “I am the one you want. Take me. She will not breathe a word of your involvement to anyone. Will you, Ellie?”
Oh, no. She would not allow her husband to sacrifice himself to save her. If this was to be their end, they would face it together.
She met O’Rourke’s gaze, chin up. “I will tell the whole world what a lying murderous manipulative, soulless scoundrel you are.”
“Ellie,” Hudson growled, a note of warning in his tone.
“Do as I say or it will go worse for you,” O’Rourke snarled. “Move toward me slowly. One step at a time. Keep your hands before you, palms facing the ceiling.”
There was no choice but to do as the inspector demanded. If she remained at Hudson’s side, there was every possibility he would shoot one or both of them. She needed more time.Theyneeded more time. She refused to believe this would be how they met their fates.
That they would have found each other, fallen in love, only to be murdered by this vile creature.
“Sit in the chair,” O’Rourke commanded, gesturing to an overstuffed wingback by the fireplace.
Still moving slowly, she did as he asked. As she settled on the cushion, the oil lamp burning on a table at its side caught her attention. She thought of the day she had been toiling in Papa’s workshop and had broken a lamp.
You are fortunate you did not light yourself on bloody fire, Hudson had said.
That lamp had not been lit. This one, however…
This one could produce the distraction they required. Overturning it would be dangerous in more ways than one. There was every possibility O’Rourke would shoot her. There was also the possibility the flames would spread quickly. However, clearly, O’Rourke had not entered the chamber in time to see Hudson secreting his pistol. If she could cause enough distraction, it was possible that Hudson would be able to reach for his weapon and shoot the inspector.
“Now, I have two pills for you to swallow, Duchess,” O’Rourke was saying, taking care to keep his pistol trained on Hudson, who remained standing still and stoic where she had left him. “I promise this will be painless.”
As if she believed his promises. Here was the same man who had callously admitted to murdering three other people. Her gaze flicked to Hudson. The anguish on her husband’s face was palpable. O’Rourke intended to poison her and then either place the blame of her death upon Hudson or kill him as well. He shook his head.
