Edward grinned, eyes on his desk. “He’d have shown you in. I’m waiting on Welton. The man could hardly be more stupid.” Silence followed his remark, and Edward glanced up. Griston’s arms were laden. The young girl he carried had tangled thick red locks. “I see you found Sarah.” He frowned. “Why’d you bring her here? What’s wrong with her?”
Griston strolled to the settee and dropped her. “She’s dead.”
“Dead!” He rose and rounded the desk. That was deuced inconvenient.
“Delectable enough, but a bit old for my tastes, and much too used.” Griston shrugged. “I’m here to be paid.”
Maudsley tore his thoughts from the task of disposing of Sarah’s body and turned his eyes on Griston. “You have the documents?”
Griston reached inside his waistcoat and pulled out a tri-folded stack of documents, then pitched them on the desk.
Edward went back around and sat. He snatched up the papers and flipped through them. He read through the first page. Pleased with its officiousness, he quickly thumbed through the rest. He leaned back and let out a satisfied sigh. “Third floor, fourth door on the right. She’s fast asleep. That should make her initiation into womanhood easier to bear.” A pang of conscience pierced him. “Treat her gently, Griston. She’s nothing like Sarah.”
A short burst of laughter echoed. “I’m surprised at you, Edward. You’ve missed the entire point of taking a young, untried body.” He pulled out a pistol.
“What the hell?” Edward stood quickly, sending his chair flailing against the wall.
“Come, Edward, you can’t really believe Parliament would grant your long-lost daughter’s son an earldom, do you? Your previous countess bore two sons. The babe’s a bastard at that. I’m doing you a favor besides. Nothing could save you from ruin with George Welton as a son-in-law. As you’ve succinctly pointed out, the man’s an idiot.” The blast rang in his ears.
Goddamn, if the bastard hadn’t actually pulled the trigger.Edward was strangely awed that his thought was so coherent. The power of the shot felled him to his knees. He looked down. Blood gushed, but oddly he felt nothing. Why couldn’t he feel anything? But as quickly as the question formed, a burning sensation seared his chest. A branding, intense pain that choked him of air. “Why?” he demanded, breathless.
Griston moved to the desk and calmly refolded and pocketed the papers. “Cecilia is a lovely young woman, Edward. I don’t think you could ever appreciate her as well as where she’ll be going. I certainly can’t have it circulating about that I prefer them her age. Lady Maudsley will be in need of consoling. Lady Maudsley is young enough to bear many, many girls for me.”
Edward’s laugh was more a gasp for air, It wasn’t Celia at all, the dolt. “You, lying with a woman of my wife’s age.”
“There are ways around that issue. I’m surprised at you, Edward.”
He struggled to remain conscious. “You… you won’t get away with this.”
“Ah. You speak of that henchman you employ—or rather,employed—” He chuckled. “Rolf? A shame he shot you in a fit of ire at his ill treatment.”
Edward’slungs tightened, squeezing the life from his body. Rapid intakes of air came short and agonizingly painful. Like a knife twisted in his chest. He tried to raise his hand to staunch the blood flow, but his limbs were numb. He fought to make sense of Griston’s words.
“Your little Sarah, such a veritable she-cat. She fought every step of the way, Edward. Once in a great while, the fight is stimulating As a rule, however, I prefer them fearful, docile, virgi—”
Edward’s battle was lost as the words faded into oblivion.
Twenty-Four
T
horne, where are you?” She’d never realized before now how much she truly depended on her husband. Not just for the livelihood basics of food, shelter, and such. Now she realized how much he’d protected her from life’s darker side.
No untoward noises reached her from beyond the door. Nathan’s cries had quieted, and it took a moment for the silence to soak in. She gazed down at him, desperately wishing he were her own, but equally thankful that he belonged to Brandon. She tried shoving thoughts of Irene to the back of her mind, avoiding the nefarious plans that blackguard had for that incredible child. That beautiful, beautiful girl. Blinking back tears, she rose, then leaned over Nathan.
“I must find our way out of this dungeon,” she said softly.
His eyes remained closed, and his tiny mouth smacked hungrily on his fist. He’d worn himself out.
With the silence, Lorelei was able to pick out vague household noises. Muffled footsteps, stairs creaking, a door closing. Would the housekeeper assist her? Provided there wasa housekeeper.
She studied the chamber about her. There were no windows. An interior room, then, two possibly. Lorelei moved to the one closed door and peered through. Too dark. She grabbed the candle from the table and pushed open the door. An office of sorts. A desk, a cabinet full of books, stacked papers.
An ounce of guilt plagued her as she rummaged through a pile, but remembering Irene’s peril, she shoved out any further conscience.
There was nothing with Irene’s name, but that didn’t lessen Lorelei’s fear. She flipped through the papers. And stopped.Harlowe.Her heart pounded furiously. What could Maudsley have to do with Brandon? She read through quickly.I’m pleased to inform you that Lord Harlowe is no longer an issue.The words blurred her vision. With shaking knees, she sank into the desk chair and flipped the paper over. There was no recipient listed, or signature indicating who’d penned the note.
Her fingers shook violently. Had Maudsley killed her brother?
