“Your parents left your care to a good, generous man.”
“Something they had been about to change. Why do you think they were killed? I saw their will, saw who would take me in yet they were going to change that and stick me with a wizened old woman who was as good as destitute. I have been planning all this since university, you know.”
“You killed your own parents?” Emily did not think anything could have shocked her more and she waited to hear him forcefully deny it.
“Fools. Both of them. And one like me should not have to deal with fools. They had the Duke of Collins Wood as a friend and never made use of him, never made use of that most advantageous connection.” Albert shook his head. “My father was shocked at my suggestions that he do so. Several times I patiently pointed that fact out to him, the fact that he was missing a grand opportunity by not taking advantage of the old man. He just kept saying, ‘The duke is a trusted friend; I could never do that.’
“Then a friend of mine at Oxford shot his father. He did not kill him for the years of abuse he had suffered at the man’s hands, just shot him in the hand that had so regularly beaten him and fondled him. My father was so shocked. He asked how could a son shoot his own father? I happened to be carrying my pistol so I showed him. Shot him right between the eyes. Then my foolish, foolish mother ran in. Why would any rational person run right toward the sound of gunfire? Stupid cow. She screamed at me. Me! Her own son! Shot her to shut her up.”
Emily listened to the man talk with a growing horror. He was mad. He may well have always been but she thought it had become too much for him to hold back when he had shot his own parents. It was that act that had brought all his illness roaring to the fore. She could not even blame this on the infection he now suffered from. The man should be shackled up in Bedlam or someplace similar.
“You kill people like others flick a piece of lint off their coat sleeve,” she said softly, suspecting her look of horror would not calm his murderous urge but unable to hide it.
“That is because the people I kill are no more significant than a piece of lint. They are an annoyance, a blockade. They are foolish, stupid people. I should not be forced to deal with such people.”
“Neddy needs to be none of those if you just leave. He will stay in this country.”
“You expect me to believe that? Who will make him stay when he is grown and realizes what awaits him back in England? You expect him to actually choose to herd sheep or cattle? Maybe become a farmer? Over here they seem to expect the landowner to do the work himself.” He shook his head over what he obviously considered an obscene attitude.
He spoke of those things with such scorn she did not even try to defend the many ways of earning a living. “He would stay because all he loves would be here.”
Albert laughed. “Any man with sense would decide he can love whatever he wants, wherever the best living is. I happen to love being very wealthy. I will love getting the title and I will most certainly love having that power. A royal dukedom would be better but I will settle for one gifted by the great Elizabeth.”
* * *
Iain stood as still as possible just outside the kitchen door and listened. The man was supposed to be dead or gone, not still plaguing them. He did not know exactly how long Emily had kept the man talking but it was evident there was no talking such a man out of his murderous plans.
There were a lot of reasons to kill Albert, including his current weakened state that would make physically fighting the man impossible. He could kill the man easy though, especially knowing he planned to end the life of a bairn. That that bairn was Neddy, a little boy they had all come to love, would make the killing even more acceptable, he thought with an anger he had never felt before. He would also like killing him for terrifying Emily. He had been able to hear that cold fear in her voice although he doubted Albert had noticed.
Walking back into the parlor as silently as he was able to, Iain took the sword off the mantel there. He had left his gun upstairs and feared he would lose what strength he had if he went back up the steps. The trip he had taken today might have been a pure delight but it had cost him just when he needed his strength. Iain also admitted that it would be good to kill that man with his father’s sword. From what he had overheard, Emily was backed up against the kitchen door and Albert was near the back. He went out the front door and walked to the back, slipping up to the kitchen door as silently as he was able.
Through the slight opening in the lace curtains over the window in the door, he could see the man’s back. He could also see how tightly the man held on to the chair by the kitchen table. It appeared he may well have been injured and he was not at full strength. The white of his knuckles revealed Albert had a real tight grip on the chair. Iain had to wonder if it was needed to keep Albert upright and steady.
That would work to his advantage, Iain thought. Even the idea of killing a wounded man from behind did not cause him any hesitation. He had also seen the gun in the man’s hand. The man’s obvious love of hearing himself talk was all that was keeping Emily alive.
Closing his hand around the door handle Iain began to slowly turn it, thankful that he had begun to make sure all door handles were well oiled. That time he had killed one of Albert’s hired men in the same way he planned to kill Albert now had made him very cautious about having silent doors. As he began to slowly open the door he almost smiled. He must have been firmer about the chore getting done regularly than he had thought because it was opening without a sound.
Stepping into the kitchen was difficult. Iain wanted to rush as he feared the man was getting to the end of his bragging and would immediately shoot Emily when he was. He held his breath each time he put his foot down, knowing the softest sound of a footstep could alert the man. Iain had no wish to be shot again if only because that would make it difficult to rescue Emily. It felt like hours passed until he was close enough to run the fool through with his sword.
Just before he ran his sword into the man, he whispered, “So very sorry to end your soliloquy.”
* * *
Emily caught sight of the kitchen door opening and fought desperately not to fix her gaze on that. She saw Iain creep inside and nearly sagged with relief. She knew things were not safe yet but she felt as though they were.
“Albert, you cannot keep shooting people just because they annoy you or get in the way,” she said, using the tone she used on Neddy when she was trying to correct some bad behavior of his.
“You are so cute when you try to talk like a mother or tutor to a small child.” His look turned fierce. “I am neither. I am soon to become the Duke of Collins Wood and deserve respect.”
“Grandfather is not so aged you can count on him dropping dead the moment you become the heir. Although, shock may do it,” she added in a muttered voice that dripped with scorn.
Albert pointed the gun straight at her heart. “How droll. Do you know, he once made a passing comment on how good it would be if women could become the duke and he wished his ancestor had gotten that concession from Elizabeth. Seems the old man is rather fond of you and thinks you would be a perfect duke.”
“That is very kind of him.”
“That is stupid. Complete and utter stupidity. Now, are you going to tell me where Neddy is or do I have to go through this hovel room by room. Rest assured I will kill anyone in my way. That includes all those brothers you are probably bedding and that woman with her three kids.”
Just as she opened her mouth to try to say something she watched a sword point come right out of his stomach. She pressed a hand to her own and she felt something wet splash her face. To her amazement, Albert only grunted, lightly touched the tip of the sword, and glanced behind him before grinning at her. It was gruesome to look for blood was already starting to pour out of his mouth.
