Charlotte glanced around the laboratory. The earl would tellher to use her strengths—see all the little details, and then use her imagination to do the unexpected.
A faint hissing from the trough battery drew her attention . . .
And all at once, an idea came to mind.
Edging back, she wove a careful retreat through the worktables and storage carts.
Julianna seemed in no hurry to end the cat-and-mouse pursuit. She came on slowly, with a predator’s stalking step. “Surrender to Fate. It’s no use trying to evade your destiny.”
In answer, Charlotte slid through a gap between tables and grabbed up a large beaker filled with the electrolyte solution used to power the trough battery. A snap of her wrist sent its contents flying through the air.
Julianna let out a grunt as the liquid hit her in the face, splashing over her hair and the bodice of her gown. And then she laughed. “That’s merely the excess fluid. It does nothing to stop my plan.”
At the same moment, Charlotte spotted what she was looking for—a cut-crystal bottle capped with a silver stopper, sitting on a stone slab next to the voltaic pile.
Dear Cedric.She darted forward.I won’t allow you to be desecrated yet again.
“No!”A cart toppled in a cacophony of shattering glass and thumping metal as Julianna realized what Charlotte intended to do and began a mad dash toward the trough battery.“No!”
But Charlotte was quicker. Dropping her knife, she snatched up the bottle and hurled it to the tiled floor. It exploded into a spray of shards and silvery droplets.
“You’ll not use Cedric or me for your vile experiments!” she called. “His essence is gone and your devil-cursed dream is dead, as well it should be.” Beside her, the metal conducting rod was vibrating against the stone slab, a gentle humming at odds with the terrible power coursing through it. “It’s over. Now is the time to surrender to reason.”
Her face contorting in fury, Julianna let out a wordless snarl. Her scalpel shot up, a lethal flash cutting through the lamplight as she suddenly threw herself forward.
In the same instant, Charlotte grabbed the rod’s leather grip and raised it as a defensive shield.
Metal clashed against metal.
As if punched by an unseen hand, Julianna was flung back. Her body hung suspended in midair for an instant, steam spiraling up from her burnt hand. And then, hair dancing on end, she crumpled to the floor.
Hands shaking, Charlotte dropped the smoking rod. The reek of singed flesh clogged her nostrils as a deathly silence settled over the room.
Is it really over?
Swallowing against the burn of bile rising in her throat, she managed to shuffle over to where Julianna lay spread-eagle on her back, eyes wide open, mouth frozen in an O of shock.
“May God have mercy on you—for you’ll get none from me.” Indeed, Charlotte found that she felt nothing. No relief, no sense of triumph, just an overpowering numbness in every fiber of her being.
Suddenly too spent to remain on her feet, she took a seat on the overturned cart. The lamplight seemed to fade in and out, as if struggling to keep darkness at bay. Hugging her arms to her chest, Charlotte closed her eyes and allowed the swirling shadows to wrap her in oblivion.
CHAPTER 30
The silence was terrifying.
Wrexford pressed his ear to the closed door, praying to any god who would listen for a hint of Charlotte’s voice. A whisper, a sigh—anything. His throat was suddenly so tight, he could barely breathe. He couldn’t imagine his world without her.
Swallowing his fear, the earl cocked his pistol and eased the latch open.
The lamp flames—two white-hot spots of gold, unwavering within their glass globes—blazed with a blinding intensity. It took an instant for his eyes to adjust. Then his gaze was drawn down to the pooling light on the floor.
Crumpled silk . . . a slender ankle . . .
His heart stopped dead. And yet, somehow, he managed another step. And then another.
Relief slammed into his chest, releasing his pent-up breath in a rush of air.Mahogany-colored hair—not Charlotte’s. As he crouched down, the acrid scent of burnt flesh filled his nostrils. He looked away from the ugly burn on Julianna’s hand to the porcelain perfection of her face, looking so peaceful in death’s repose.
A beauty that was only skin deep.
