Something hardened in Abraham’s eyes.
“Darlington was fine. He had money to burn, but I lost it all. I thought we were friends, you see, so I asked him for a loan for our next venture. He refused. Told me I did not have head or temper for long-term business.”
Ophelia made it to the desk and slowly used the leg of it to pull herself up. She looked down at the desk, and her heart began to hammer even faster at what she saw. Letters, dozens of them, with details of the Devil’s Masquerade. Where it moved, who operated it, who protected it. The homes it was hosted in. It was more than enough to not only out Tristan, but every guest and employee as well. Chaos would erupt if the letters were released.
Atop the letters sat a black fountain pen- the only other object on the desk. Ophelia curled her fingers around it and slowly brought it to her skirts, tucking it between the folds.
“He was right about my temper,” Abraham said with a dull laugh, “It led me to poisoning him.”
Ophelia froze as his eyes flicked to her just as she managed to sink to the floor again. To her surprise, she saw sorrow in his gaze.
“I did feel guilty about that,” Abraham confessed. “He was my first kill. Dreadful the bouts of panic that came after. It’s why I left the country for a while.”
Ophelia didn’t respond, did not even breathe until he shifted his gaze back to the flames.
“Of course that was when I met William Boyle,” Abraham went on. “Of all the people to meet while I was abroad, I found myself in the company of a man who was obsessed with my former business partner’s daughter. He was already half a loon when I met him so it was not hard to manipulate him into a false story. Of being promised to her.”
“You?” Ophelia whispered, “You were responsible for Theo getting abducted?”
“All I had to do was affirm his delusions and the man just…played so easily into my hand,” Abraham answered with a shrug.“The plan was simple. Marry Boyle to Theo and use my control over him and his new marital tie the Darlington fortune to claim the money I deserved.”
“But Theo got married in the meantime,” Ophelia said, starting to understand the story she was being told. “So you had to act differently.”
“Boyle was beside himself when he found out,” Abraham agreed, “Was threatening to take his own life. So I had to get more creative. Draw up false papers, stating that she had been rightfully his from their childhood. Insist that the Duke of Caldermere was an awful man that did not deserve her. Make him believe that not only Alistair, but Tristan had to die for keeping him away from his true love.”
“So you urged him to abduct her,” Ophelia said, remembering that horrible day. “Were you there? In the warehouse where he took her? Were you this close the entire time?”
“Boyle had a half-gone mind of a child, I had to offer some assurance that he would have help if the plan went awry,” Abraham answered. “However, if I got killed trying to help him all of my efforts would have been for naught, and what good would that do?”
“So you stayed hidden,” Ophelia murmured. “Watched this poor mad man nearly kill someone. Nearly get killed himself. And watched him get dragged away by the authorities.”
“He was cracked!” Abraham suddenly roared in defense, pounding his fist against the arm rest. “What else good was he going to be? Why do you think his family sent him away?!”
Ophelia’s hand tightened around the pen as she flinched away from his outburst.
“It was good he went to the Bailey,” Abraham murmured, leaning back into his chair. “Best place for a man like him. That was until your Lord Perfect and his Scottish giant of a brother-in-law started to pay him visits. It was too risky. Couldn’t kill him. That would be too suspicious. But a nail driven into a certain part of his head? It would cease all ability to speak coherently.”
Ophelia felt the urge to wretch again as she imagined such a horrid fate. Even for Boyle, who had nearly killed Alistair in his madness. It was a cruelty never deserved.
“Before all of that happened though, I convinced Boyle to sign over most of his accounts to me. With renewed funds, I tried to take over Darlington’s business, which of course you know was taken over by his son; your Lord Perfect. He’d taken his father’s money and quadrupled it. Everyone wanted to be apart of his spirit business. I was not sure what he did or not know though, so I took on the name Perley to get in. His vetting process was extensive, but I thought if I made myself a major investor, he’d be more keen to sway toward my influence.
“I figured I could take over the company piece by piece, but no, that brute of a Scot found me out, and once more I had to changemy identity, and once more I had to accept the need to get my hands dirty.”
Abraham swept his hands toward the room, smiling maniacally.
“Thus, here we are.”
Ophelia trembled as she drew in a breath, her grip tightening on the pen.
“Are you going to kill him as you killed his father?” She asked.
Abraham stood, walked over to the desk where his letters of evidence laid.
“Not before I humiliate him first,” he murmured, looking down at the papers. “Not until he and his friends sign over their company to me and I strip them of every pound they have.”
His focus on the papers, his body relaxed with the arrogant satisfaction of how his plan was working, Ophelia brought the pen up, and lunged.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
