Olivia noted the twitch in Gabriel’s eye, the tightness in his mouth, the way his fingers curled into fists. She wished she could run to him, wrap her arms around him, tell him nothing mattered but their future.
But he needed to hear this.
And she had almost undone the twine binding her wrists.
“So that’s what they argued about.” He swallowed hard as recognition dawned. “The real reason they entertained. Doubtless, she persuaded peers to vote with their cocks, not their heads.”
“She was an excellent agent, until your father died, and it was clear you weren’t so easy to manipulate. If only Katherine hadn’t fallen in love with Justin Lovelace. History may have repeated itself.”
Gabriel turned to face his old friend.
But Mr Lovelace had gone.
So had the rector.
“I suddenly have a newfound respect for my father,” he said with a wry grin. “I’d wager your niece used the money to run. To escape the life you mapped out for her. You didn’t allow them to live abroad. You found them and forced them to come home.”
Mrs Culpepper laughed quietly to herself. “When I heard Miss Hawkins had visited The Burnished Jade, I knew her father had sent her there. The plan was to recover the evidence, and you’d have been none the wiser. Katherine wasinsurance. Meant to turn your head. The fact you’re alive, standing here, says she failed in every regard.”
Gabriel didn’t snap back. His gaze found hers, his dark eyes softening. “No woman alive could turn my head. I’m in love with my wife. My heart is hers. And always will be.”
A breath caught in her throat.Of all the words he could have said—harsh retorts, threats, demands—he’d chosen that.
Love.
Freely given, when she’d braced for fury.
It stirred in her, rising like warmth through her chest. And if they died here, if this was their final stand, she wanted him to know how deeply she loved him.
“I’m in love with you, too, Gabriel.” She blinked hard, willing back the tears. “I knew you’d find me. I was afraid you thought I’d left.”
“You’d never break our blood oath.”
She shook her head. “No. Never.”
Mrs Culpepper groaned. “Give me the evidence. Let me walk out, and you’ll never have to worry about the fraternity again.”
“And what of me? You forget we both swing if the truth gets out.” Sir Randall's burr sharpened the words. “What of our bargain?”
“It’s every man for himself. And I’ve got a blade to the girl’s neck.”
“Does the lad know you killed his mother?” Sir Randall let out a mirthless laugh. “That you had men hunt her down and leave her to rot in that French hovel?”
“Traitors must pay. Else we’d all be for the gallows.”
Gabriel went still.
Olivia caught the shift, the way his breath stopped, shoulders tensing like a bow drawn tight.
A chill swept through the room, sharp as an arctic storm that settled in the bones and never left. He slid the blade slowly from his boot, his expression so vengeful Satan would have cowered.
“Release my wife.” His tone was hard, unforgiving. “Or I’ll throw this blade so it lands between your brows, witch.”
“And risk the life of the woman you love?”
Perhaps Mrs Culpepper meant to put her blade to Olivia’s throat or wave it at Gabriel. Either way, the tip was no longer at her nape. She caught the glint of steel as the woman’s hand dropped and knew it was her one chance to act.
She yanked hard at the twine binding her wrists, and it snapped.
