“She’d want proof.” Winston’s ribs throbbed from riding, but he ignored it. “This is where the proof lives or dies.”
Pike gave a curt nod. “Then after you.”
Winston pushed the door. It swung inward with a long, low moan of creaky hinges. The hall beyond was cold and bare; their footsteps echoed against the stone like small explosions. A shape flinched from the shadows, a woman, apron askew, hands white-knuckled around each other.
Winston stopped. “Where is she?”
The servant’s voice shook. “My lord…sir…I tried to make her leave…oh, God forgive me, she wouldn’t…she’s upstairs…he’s got her…”
Winston did not hear the rest. He took the stairs two at a time. Pike and Oswald followed close behind. Every step drove a hot lance into his ribs. He thought his knee would give way on the next step, but Winston refused to let it. He did not slow. The corridor at the landing stretched ahead, dark except for the weak spill of light from an open door. Voices. Sharp. Strained. He ran.
At the end of the corridor, in the doorway to a room that reeked of dust and old violence, Lord Harston stood with a pistol levelled at his daughter. Another servant stood behind Adeline, thin, old, and terrified. Adeline had her arms spread wide, shielding the older woman and glaring at her father. Winston’s breath left him in a single, scorching rush.
Harston looked up, and a smile broke across his face. Pleasant, false, grotesque.
“Your Grace,” he said. “And Mr. Pike, I see. Excellent. I cannot tell you what a relief it is to have official men present at last.”
Winston felt Pike still beside him. Harston continued smoothly, as if hosting a tea rather than holding his daughter at gunpoint.
“We can settle this ugliness now. Adeline has been…troubled for some time. You may not know, but she struck her mother. Over the head with that very bust on the mantel. Marcus Aurelius.” He pressed a hand to his chest as if the memory pained him. “Killed her. I could not bear to testify at the time. I fled. I confess it. But guilt has a long echo, gentlemen. I have gathered myself now. I must speak the truth.”
Adeline didn’t look at Winston. She didn’t dare move. “He’s lying,” she said, voice tight but clear. “He killed her. Ask Mrs. Grogan…”
Harston snapped, “Silence.”
Mrs. Grogan’s breath rattled in her chest. Harston shifted the pistol toward her. “Speak again, Adeline, and I’ll shoot her instead. I am tired of disobedient women.”
“You will not touch her,” Adeline argued. “You’ll have to shoot me.”
“Gladly.”
Winston’s heart slammed against his ribs. Pike took a soft step forward, hands lifted. “My Lord, Bow Street will require statements from all parties.”
“Confession first,” Harston said. “Adeline, tell them what you did. Spare us all this theatre. I will shoot that useless housekeeper if you do not speak the truth.”
Winston took a step forward. “Put the pistol down.”
Harston’s eyes flashed. “Another step and I shoot her.”
Winston stopped, pulse hammering in his throat. Pain roared in his knee from the jolt of motion. It didn’t matter.
Harston’s attention flicked to Pike. “You, sir. You of all men should understand. Dangerous women must be contained. My daughter is unwell. I advise Your Grace not to trust her.”
Adeline’s breath caught, sharp with disbelief. Winston’s fury went cold and clear.
“Tell them,” Harston barked. “Confess.”
“No,” she whispered.
Mrs. Grogan let out a thin sound of defiance. “I saw you,” she said. “I saw you strike her ladyship with the paperweight. I saw the blood. I saw…”
Harston swung toward her and cocked the hammer. Adeline ran towards her father, and at that, Winston moved. He didn’t think about his ribs or his speed or the distance. He lunged for Harston’s arm just as the shot exploded. The recoil was a brutal crack in the air. Something hot and blinding tore through Winston’s left shoulder, spinning him back against the bureau. Pain burned, white and merciless.
“Winston!” Adeline’s scream ripped the air.
Before Winston could blink, she snatched a marble bust from the mantel and swung it with a desperate, untrained strength. The crack of stone striking bone echoed like a pistol shot. Harston staggered back. He collapsed to the floor, dazed, blood welling at his temple. Adeline dropped the bust and fell to her knees beside Winston.
“Oh God…oh God…where, let me see…” She pulled at his coat, her hands trembling, breath breaking. “You’re bleeding…you’re bleeding so much?—”
