“What the hell is taking so long in here?” His father’s voice echoed around the chamber, and Mantis’ heart dropped. Had his father come to help his wife finish him off?
“Louisa. Explain yourself.”
His father didn’t know!
Crestwood closed the door, locking it behind him, and then stepped around Felicity to approach his wife. “Put that thing away. The guests are in something of an uproar, having watched the bride tear through the sanctuary as this one did.” He shifted a disgruntled gaze in Felicity’s direction.
“But we discussed this.” Louisa’s voice sounded uncertain for the first time that morning. “You said Conner would be a better earl. You told me you couldn’t abide handing the title over to Manningham.”
“Good God, woman. And you think the answer is to shoot him?”
“Then how? Do you imagine Lord Brightley’s daughter is going to allow this mongrel to hand over an earldom once her own son is born?”
“No guarantee it’s a boy. Nor that she’ll deliver a live child.” Mantis’ father ran a hand through his hair.
“Put down the gun, Louisa,” Mantis overcame his shock to speak again, edging in front of Felicity at the same time. Because if, by chance, Louisa squeezed that trigger, he’d be damned if he’d allow anything to happen to the woman he loved.
Or his child.
But his father, it seemed, had other concerns.
“What the hell am I supposed to do now, Louisa? What will people think if they discover your scheme? Because rest assured, I refuse to be taken down with you.” Rather than be shocked that his wife was holding a gun pointed at his own son and future grandchild, his father worried about appearances.
And likely, a few legalities.
“It’s over, my lady.” Felicity’s voice rang out from behind Mantis, unfortunately drawing Louisa’s attention back to where he was trying to block her with his much larger frame. “Lord Greystone will be here any minute, and if you shoot that gun, or if anyone is harmed, you’ll be locked up for the rest of your life, and you’ll never see your son again.”
“But Conner will be the earl.”
“What kind of earl would he be, knowing his mother killed his brother in order to secure the title for him?” Felicity persisted. “He is a good boy. He can never be happy knowing you would sacrifice Axel’s life for him.”
“Shut up.” Louisa squeezed her eyes closed and then just as quickly opened them. His father, looking troubled but not nearly so troubled as one might expect, dropped into the chair Mantis had vacated and groaned.
“Help me, Crestwood. What should I do?” Louisa cried. But when Mantis’ father didn’t answer, her face darkened. In a panic now, she shot her stare around the room.
And then his father spoke, confirming once and for all that everything Mantis had done to try to win his approval all these years meant nothing.
“I don’t care. Do what you must.”
I.
Don’t.
Care.
“You--! You--!” Felicity sounded as though she would kill his father herself.
Careful to keep himself between Felicity and his deranged stepmother, Mantis pinned his gaze on the weapon and, bending forward, barreled across the room.
He was almost quick enough.
An explosion echoed in his head… She’d gotten off a single shot. By his ear. Had she shot his ear off? A piercing sound sent spikes of agony shooting through his brain, but he would worry about that later.
Her willingness for violence eradicated the aversion he normally had to harm any woman. They were fragile, breakable—the weaker sex. Mantis pried the gun from her surprisingly strong fingers and then clamped one hand around both of her wrists, effectively restraining her on the floor beneath him.
The gunshot ringing in his ear subsiding, Mantis sat back on his knees and turned to his father. What was wrong with him? Why wasn’t Crestwood moving?
Mantis’ gaze met Felicity’s, where she now stood over his father, her face almost as ashen as the lace on her dress.
