“For what—”
Two men stepped from the shadows.
Slam. One hit him in the face.
His spectacles flew. Before he could get his bearings, a man struck him again.
Such pain. His eye felt three times its size.
The two knocked him to the ground, his head banged against a table leg. Daniel writhed on the floor as they kicked him.
The men held him down, elbow in his chest. They ripped away his father’s fob.
Daniel gasped for air as a hand cut across his throat.
“I’m really sorry, darling.” Lavinia said, “but you are too strong and too clever for me. I had some friends help.”
She tipped her glass.
Splish, splash, splosh.
Poison dripped onto his forehead, into his eyes, down his cheeks. Criminals kept him pinned. He couldn’t move as the brandy filled his nostrils, burning.
Then Lavinia brought the glass closer and spilled fire down his throat.
He fought as he gagged. He couldn’t help but swallow. They ripped his fabric as he drowned in liquor.
That smell.
That was his father’s smell.
The weight upon his limbs relented, but he couldn’t figure out how to move.
“Willingham, let’s leave him for a few. Let’s let him grapple with his darkest fear, that loss of control. The brandy will make him incoherent. Then, I’ll be back for part two of my plan.”
She stuffed his spectacles in his tailcoat pocket. “Daniel, in time, you will forgive me. I promise to make all the scandals go away. I’ll make it up to you.”
He sort of heard her chuckle. Then the shadows disappeared. The music became loud, mockingly loud, reminding him of the fights he thought he’d won living as a just man.
No.
Not a winner.
They left him bloodied, stewing in his own drool, smelling like a drunk, stripped of his threads, his armor.
Barely clothed, just a torn tailcoat, waistcoat, and shirt, he’d become the scared boy of eight readying to sleep his first night on the streets, the streets that killed his father.
Daniel’s head dropped to the floor. He couldn’t escape.
CHAPTER 34
JEMINA—A BABBLINGEARL
Ihad to stop looking for Daniel. More than an hour had passed since he arrived, and we still hadn’t talked.
Must he be a social butterfly when I felt as if I’d burst?
That must be his role for Lady Shrewsbury tonight.
