Page 76 of A Story of Love

“Perhaps, but it doesn’t make it less true.” Something like pain flickered in the other man’s dark brown eyes. “You don’t want to live out your life on the run, my lord.”

“Of course I don’t. But I am smart; I’ll leave no trace.”

“Let’s say you do kill him and don’t get caught. If word of this scandal were to gets out—and we don’t know how many people are in on this secret now—you will be in the same position as Moreland; which is to say ripe for extortion.”

“So what the hell do you propose, then? That I do nothing?”

Gregg opened his mouth, but then closed it.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake! Speak, man.”

“Death is quick, my lord. Some would say it is the easy way out for what Moreland did.”

“But torture before death can be long and drawn out,” Fast retorted. And it would be. He would take days—maybe weeks—to kill Bevil Norman.

“Yes, but it seems to me that would be letting his sort of man off too easily. It seems to me—based on what you’ve said about him—that he would suffer more by losing all his money and status first.”

Fast’s jaw twitched. “So you’re saying I should make my information public? With what evidence?” He snorted. “And even if I do find that confession, now that I know Percy’s killer is a bloody peer—ha!” he laughed bitterly. “The word of a dead man, a killer’s brother—a known mutineer—would never bring down an earl, Gregg.”

“I’m not talking about making what you know public.”

“Then what the hell are you talking about?”

“Moreland is hurting for money, my lord.”

“I know that. So what?”

“Why not destroy him before you kill him?” Gregg hurried to explain. “You’ve got the upper hand when it comes to the Pascoe chit. If he marries her, his money troubles are over.”

“That’s just one heiress. There are dozens of them dangling for a peer. It might frustrate Bevil to lose a woman like Demelza Pascoe, but he wouldn’t suffer for long.”

“Surely there are ways to discredit Moreland so badly that no wealthy Cit would allow his daughter to marry him. Even if he is an earl?”

Fast fought against the unfettered, rampant hatred churning inside him. He knew Gregg had a good point—several of them. He didn’t want to spend his life running from a murder charge. Moreland’s situation was a case in point in how bloody difficult it was to keep such a thing a secret. And then there was the fact that such an accusation would kill his grandfather.

Killing Moreland won’t get Percy back.

No, nothing would.

How would Percy want you to deal with this? Shouldn’t that weigh in your decision?

Fast gritted his teeth against the deviously clever voice. His brother wouldn’t have wanted Fast to destroy what remained of their family. And that is exactly what he’d be doing if he turned himself into a murderer. For all that Percy could be selfish and thoughtless, he had always taken the responsibilities of being the heir seriously. That is what had made it so hard to believe that he had killed himself.

We belong to the family first and then ourselves, Fast, Percy had said on more than one occasion. Even our father knew that. I could hardly be worse than him, could I?

Percy had been right. Their father had done his best to drain the marquessate of its money and bring shame to the name, but he had married an acceptable woman and provided the obligatory heir and spare.

“My lord?”

He looked up. “What?”

“You mentioned the Countess of Mansfield was having a house party.”

“Yes. What of it?”

“Her country estate isn’t far from Moreland’s, is it?”

“An hour or two away.” He frowned. “Why? What are you driving at?”