His eyes darkened into soulless pools.
Both ladies gasped, clutching each other’s hands in terror.
‘You monster,’ Grace breathed.
A one-sided smile appeared on his hollow face.
He scoffed. ‘If you had met my father, you would not be calling me the monster. He was a hateful bastard who deserved what was coming to him. After Mother died, he became especially violent when he drank. The final straw was when he pushed me down the stairs in a fit of drunken rage and broke my leg. No one confronted him. No one intervened. They just let it happen. Edward stood at the top of the stairs and just watched.’
His face twisted with rage as he spoke, his voice no longer directed at them but at some unseen spectre of the past. ‘They can all go to hell for all I care.’
The carriage lurched violently as it tore down the narrow country road, its wheels skidding dangerously on the damp earth. Grace dug her nails into the worn leather seat, her breath shallow. If she didn’t act fast, they would never make it out alive.
She had to keep him talking as she furiously sought a way to escape.
‘Perhaps your father did deserve to die, but what of the others? Edward must have been a child at the time,’ Grace reasoned, trying to sound neutral.
His rage simmered down.
He let out a humourless chuckle. ‘Quite right. But he was also a coward.’
He inhaled deeply, his fingers drumming idly against his cane.
‘He knew the truth, of course. I think he secretly admired that I dared to do the deed, so to speak.’
His lips curled in amusement. ‘Edward covered for me. That was when he made those ridiculous watches with the inscription.’
Grace latched onto a crucial detail.
‘Why did you continue to pretend you had a limp?’
He smirked. ‘Pity is a powerful weapon, my dear. It makes people underestimate you. It makes them pliable. It certainly helped me keep Edward’s support. He assumed, of course, that I would be “alright” after our father was dead. But you, Miss Skye, understand better than most that the world is a cruel place. To carve out a place in it, you must be even crueller.’
Grace swallowed down her disgust and pressed further.
‘How did you become involved with the smuggling ring?’
His expression turned grim. ‘As it turns out, my father left the family inheritance in shambles. The coffers were empty. You can imagine our dismay.’
His voice turned mocking. ‘But I did not let it defeat me. No, I made it my mission not only to replenish our fortune but to exceed it—by any means necessary. Edward was happy to turn a blind eye if I showered him with riches.
‘The ton are hypocrites, Miss Skye. Quick to condemn, yet just as quick to abandon their morals when discretion can be ensured. And that’—he leaned forward slightly—‘was my perfect business model. Houses of depravity are remarkably lucrative. Smuggling, intoxicants, flesh—there is no shortage of demand, only of supply. I was highly successful for years.’
He gave a dramatic sigh.
‘But as my business expanded, I required more isolated Estates. The late Lord Armitage was a doddering fool, easily manipulated into acquiring properties all over England. He blindly accepted my recommendations, and with a few well-placed bribes, his man of business conveniently ignored how those Estates were truly being used.’
Grace swallowed the bile rising in her throat.
She was beginning to grasp the true extent of his villainy.
She guessed aloud, ‘His son, Lord Gareth, found you out, didn’t he?’
Lord Harry clicked his tongue. ‘He started asking too many questions.’
A slow, sinister smile spread across his face.
‘It is such a shame that the carriage wheel was so fragile—or rather, that it became fragile. I was not sure he would die in that accident, but when he did, well—what a relief. It would have been so inconvenient to climb inside and finish him off myself. I actually rather liked him.’
