than a danger to her. When he smiled at her, even spoke to her, I’ll wager she
was terrified of him.
“I hadn’t realized just how badly you had scarred her until I saw that my nephew
did love her, that he had probably tried to attach her when he’d been in London.
He is a soldier, well made, a handsome young man, and I, I had to admit, was
older. Yet she chose me over him. He had failed with her. And I wondered why. Of
course it was obvious to anyone who simply asked a few discreet questions. Of
course, I knew exactly who to ask. And I knew for certain then that she was
afraid of a young man because of what she had seen you do.”
I turned slowly to look at him. All his words flowed over me and again, I saw
fully my own blindness, my own inability to deal with what was real in my life
and what wasn’t real, what had haunted me, twisted me. He had known that John
loved me? Ah, but what had he done to John? I said, “What do you mean you
controlled John?”
He smiled down at me. He looked ready to rub his hands together, he was so
pleased with himself. “I took care of John.”
“He isn’t at a Christmas house party with Lady Elizabeth, is he? That is why
Tempest was in the stable. You have done something to him. My God, you killed
him, didn’t you? You murdered your own flesh and blood.”
Chapter Thirty
That monster actually laughed. “Not yet. But soon, my dear, soon.”
Something broke deep inside me, broke completely, irrevocably. I dropped George
to the floor and lunged at my husband. I ripped off my gloves and went for his
eyes, but he was simply too tall and I couldn’t reach that far. I dug my
fingernails into his cheeks. I felt his flesh shred, felt the wetness of his
blood on my fingers. “Where is John, damn you? Where?”
He grabbed my wrists even as he yelled in pain. I had hurt him badly. It felt
very good. I was panting hard, kicking at him, but my cloak wouldn’t allow me to
get in the vicious blows I wanted. Lawrence said to Flynt, “For God’s sake, go
get Major Lyndhurst from the shed. Leave Boynton there. Let the little bitch see
that I haven’t yet killed him. Also, why should he miss this wonderful
exhibition? It is, after all, the conclusion to all my well-executed plans.
“Now, you will hold still, madam, or I will kill him and then I will kill that
damned dog.”
He released me and touched a handkerchief to his cheeks. “You will pay for that.”
“Yes,” I said. “You already told me that I would pay for all of it.”
I leaned down and picked up George. I didn’t say another word, just stood there,
shaking with bone-deep rage, with frustration, looking at my father. There was
only the deep harsh breathing of the men in the small cottage. I didn’t think I
was breathing. I was just standing there, frozen, Lawrence’s blood on my hands,
beneath my fingernails. My father lay still, making no sound at all. The fire
hissed, sparks flying upward.
The cottage door opened again. I whirled around to see Flynt shove John into the
room. His hands were tied behind his back. He was wearing only a white shirt,
breeches, and his boots. He had to be freezing. The bastards. There were bruises
on his face. He looked thinner, haggard. Black whiskers covered his cheeks. How
long had they kept him here? But I knew. They had held him and Boynton for two
days.
I wanted to run to him, but I knew better. I said very calmly, very slowly,
holding myself perfectly still, “Are you all right, John?”
Amazingly, he smiled at me, his teeth very white in the dim light of the cottage.
“I’m just fine, Andy. Just a bit on the cold side, but I’ll survive. Boynton
will survive, too. I wondered how long it would take for him to bring you here.
I knew he would. I’m sorry I could not stop him. I tried, but I was just too