Barbara Pierce (39 page)

Kilby was flabbergasted. “They were planning a season in London for me. That was their crime? The reason you killed them?”

“Yes, yes, yes!” he yelled at her, keeping a firm grip on the viscountess. “At first I thought they were mocking me. How could they be serious? In a moment of weakness I let you live and this was how they repaid me?”

“They did nothing wrong. I am no different than the dozens of other young ladies who come to London each season seeking a solid match,” Kilby argued.

“Wrong?” Lord Ordish lashed his foot out at the table and sent it careening into the side of the sofa. Shards of broken porcelain flew everywhere. Kilby winced as it collided
with her legs. “There was nothing
right
about their plans. Your father was pretending the sin born from his adulterous affair with my wife was a gently bred lady. How could I permit them to foist a lie on the unsuspecting gentlemen of the
ton
?”

“How did he lie, my lord? I was his daughter,” she said, trying to reach the intelligent, rational gentleman she thought was still beneath the rage. “Lady Nipping was my mother. In all ways.” Kilby did not want to cause Priddy any more pain, but this was how she felt.

“Not by blood, girl. Marriage is all about merging bloodlines and wealth,” he said, his eyes narrowing. “You think you were clever, but unlike your incompetent chaperone, I have been watching you from afar. I know the wicked games you have been playing with the young duke. I will admit that you are sharper than the sniveling whore who birthed you. You parted your thighs quickly and beguiled him into marriage. How do you think Solitea will react when he learns his noble lady is baseborn?”

“Fayne will not care. He loves me,” Kilby said dismissively, realizing she believed that she spoke the truth. Leave it to her, she mused, to choose the most awkward moment to figure out something so important about her husband.

“Already carrying his heir, are you?” Lord Ordish said slyly. “Shrewd girl. I had wondered what you did to get him to hie you off to Gretna Green so swiftly. I have tried to discourage Solitea’s interest in you, but you have the man so thoroughly spellbound, nothing short of death would keep him from you.”

Kilby felt the blood drain from her face. Her anxiety was unfeigned as she gathered a fistful of fabric from her skirts and released it, carefully covering a jagged piece of porcelain the length of her hand that had landed next to her on the sofa. She had come to London seeking answers.
Listening to Lord Ordish, she understood the truth was likely to cost her her life.

And Fayne’s.

Had the earl ambushed her husband? Her heart pounded in her throat at the terrible thought. Was that the reason why he had not come for her? “What do you mean by ‘discourage’? If you have done anything to Fayne, I swear I will—” Kilby grasped the porcelain shard in her hand.

“Calm yourself, girl,” Lord Ordish said, speaking over her feeble threats. “I have no quarrel with the Duke of Solitea or his family. I just arranged a few accidents, hoping to distract the young man from his lustful pursuit of you. The family believes they are cursed. A few scrapes with death should have reminded him of his duty. He should have abandoned his idle pleasures and directed his ambitions to finding a virtuous lady for his duchess.”

“Good grief! Are you insane?” She cringed at her dumb question. “You could have killed Fayne with those so-called accidents!” No wonder Fayne had begun to believe he was truly cursed.

His eyes smoldered and his rigid body shook with fury as he recalled his failures. “Solitea should have cast you aside. I could not save him. The man was blinded by his lust. He did not see the evil cleverly hidden within you.” Lord Ordish took a menacing step toward her. “You should have remained at Ealkin. I thought with your parents’ deaths, all aspirations for you coming to London would end. Do you understand why I have to kill you? Your marriage to Solitea has given me no choice.”

“Dear God, Grennil, she is blameless,” Priddy said, sucking in her breath as she felt the cold barrel of the pistol against her skin. “If you crave vengeance, then kill me! I am the one who betrayed you. You wanted to kill me all those years ago, but some shred of humanity in you stilled
your hand. Please. Do whatever you must with me. I beg you, please do not harm her.”

Beneath her skirts, Kilby’s hand curled around the sharp edges of her crude weapon. She felt an unpleasant sting as porcelain sliced into her flesh. She and Priddy had run out of time. In his zealous state, Lord Ordish had convinced himself that both ladies had to die. By killing her, the man believed he was actually saving Fayne and other foolish gentlemen from her insidious charms. The moment had come for her to use the intellect Lord Ordish credited her with. The earl could fire only a single shot. It would take him time to reload, a luxury she had no intention of allowing him to indulge.

“You are willing to die for your bastard daughter. You love the girl that much?” the earl whined.

“Yes! Please, Grennil,” the viscountess pleaded, blatantly using his family name in order to reach the man who once had loved her. “Kilby is nothing like me. She understands the meaning of honor, compassion, and loyalty. Nor will she betray the husband she loves. You can afford to be generous. No one remembers or cares about our past mistakes.”

Lord Ordish relaxed his hold on Priddy’s hair. Both ladies held their breaths, awaiting his decision. Kilby tensed, preparing to move if the earl aimed the pistol at her again. In his highly agitated state, she was counting on his finger to instinctively pull on the trigger. She was also hoping he would miss.

“No.” The man shook his head sadly. “
I
remember. Forgive me, Pridwyn,” he said over her frantic pleas for mercy. “I have it all planned out. When I have finished here, everyone will believe an argument between you two was the cause of the senseless violence the servants will eventually discover. With my reluctant help, the
ton
will learn the tragic details. By tomorrow morning, everyone will know that in a fit of rage, Kilby killed you after hearing the news
that you are her mother. There will be rumors circulating that you and Lord Nipping never ended your relationship, and the conclusion, I am sorry to say, Pridwyn, is that you were responsible for the Nippings’ accident. Kilby, so horrified by your actions and the ensuing scandal, will do the honorable thing. To spare the Soliteas more heartache, she will turn the pistol on herself.”

“Fayne will never believe I killed myself,” Kilby said confidently.

Lord Ordish laughed at her vehement denial. “Your husband fears he is cursed, madam. Your gory death, delivered by your own hand, will confirm his suspicions.”

Kilby took a deep breath. She was not entirely defenseless, she thought, as her fingers constricted around the jagged edge of broken porcelain, still concealed beneath the folds of her skirt. “There is only one problem with your plan.”

“And what is that, girl?” he demanded, annoyed that she might have indeed found a flaw.

“I intend to live, you mad, stupid man,” she said, throwing the daggerlike porcelain at his face.

“For God’s sake! Now!” Fayne shouted to Darknell and Cadd. Together they charged and rammed the large, heavy barrel into Lady Quennell’s beautiful glass French doors. The destructive sound of splintering wood and tinkling of shattered glass was extremely satisfying to Fayne’s ears as they burst into the drawing room.

Their violent entry into the house only added to the pandemonium in the room. The drawing room was in disarray. Overturned furniture and broken glass was scattered all about them. On their arrival, Ordish pulled the viscountess into a standing position by her hair. Originally, the pistol had been pressed against Lady Quennell’s throat. Struggling to keep hold of his fighting captive, the earl was straightening his arm to aim the weapon at Kilby. Shaking the glass off him, Fayne erupted from his crouched position and dashed toward his wife.

In the distance, he could hear Ramscar and the others breaking down the other door. Fayne hooked his arm around Kilby’s waist and tackled her. She cried out as they
hit the hard floor. There was quite a lot of broken crockery scattered about. However, not getting either of them shot was worth the risk.

From the corner of his eye, he saw Darknell and Cadd cautiously close in on Ordish and Lady Quennell.

“Damn you, Kilby! I told you not to leave the town house,” he roared, his suppressed ire over her disobedience exploding as she continued to struggle in his arms.

“Let me go!” She strained against him. He rolled her over, using his body as a shield just in case Ordish fired his pistol. “He is going to kill her!”

“Never,” Fayne fiercely vowed.

The door leading to the hall shattered on its hinges and Ramscar rushed in with a pistol in hand. Everod and the viscountess’s butler, Gordon, entered with Nipping in their custody. Everyone seemed to freeze in place as Lady Quennell struggled and fought the earl as he tried to bring his arm up and aim the pistol at the viscountess’s face.

“Ramscar, shoot the bastard!” Fayne growled.

“No!” Kilby cried out, frightened for her friend.

Ordish whirled around to confront Ramscar, ruining the clear shot at his back. Lady Quennell did not spare a glance at anyone. She was wholly focused on using all her strength to keep the pistol away. It was a battle she had no hope of winning alone. “If you discharge your weapon,” the earl boasted triumphantly, “you risk hitting the lady. And I so do want to claim that pleasure for myself.”

Kilby was going to hurt herself if she continued to fight him. Resigned, he crawled off her and hauled her onto her feet. “Christ!” he swore viciously under his breath when he noticed the blood dripping from her fingers. Her palm was a gory mess. Kilby, who seemed determined to escape him, did not seem to be aware of her painful wounds. Pulling out his handkerchief, he thrust the linen into her hand. It was the best he could do until someone managed to get the
pistol away from Ordish. He had his hands full keeping his wife from throwing herself on top of the earl’s back.

Ramscar’s arm was steady as he took aim. “I’m an excellent shot, my lord.” Still, he hesitated. The deadly shifting dance the older couple seemed to perform as each one grappled for the upper hand prevented him from pulling the trigger.

“You will have to be, sir,” Ordish countered, knowing he was surrounded. Although he had lost his chance to coldly murder Kilby, he could have his revenge on the viscountess. “Anything less than a kill will not stop me from putting a large, ugly hole into Pridwyn’s face.”

“She is my mother, Fayne,” Kilby said, her desperation vibrating through her slender figure. “He will kill her for that fact alone.”

Lady Quennell surprised them all by taking the matter into her own hands. Abruptly releasing her grip on his arm, she drove her fist into Lord Ordish’s hip, the one he had injured last summer. The earl cried out at the sudden burst of pain and his leg gave out. The couple fell to the floor.

Fayne, Darknell, and Cadd all lunged for the man, attempting to separate him from the viscountess. Whatever had driven Lord Ordish to violence was ending, but the man was determined to fight them all until he had his revenge. He brought the pistol up to Lady Quennell’s throat, his finger poised on the trigger.

Instead of forcing his hand down, the viscountess instinctively shoved his hand higher, away from her neck.

Kilby’s scream could be heard over the deafening discharge of the pistol. Dispelling the billowing smoke with her hands, she helped Fayne drag Lady Quennell away from Ordish.

Shaken by the explosion, the older woman stared blankly at the unmoving earl while Kilby hugged her. “Is—is he dead?”

Fayne’s grim gaze met Ramscar’s. Curtly nodding, his friend lowered the pistol to his side. Discreetly positioning himself between the ladies and the earl’s body, Fayne crouched over Ordish.

There was no doubt the man was dead. The proximity of the discharge from Ordish’s own pistol had ruined his face. The lead ball had entered the earl’s left cheek, shattering his right eye socket, and the lethal fragments had pierced his brain. “Yes,” Fayne called back over his shoulder. “Ordish won’t bother anyone again.”

“Fayne, she should be in bed,” Kilby whispered to her husband.

Once he had announced that Lord Ordish was dead, he had picked her up into his arms, ordered his companions to assist Priddy, and had carried her into the library. There, he had pushed a glass of brandy into her hands and harshly demanded that she drink it. Kilby tentatively took a sip. A barrel of the stuff was not going to blot out her memories of Lord Ordish.

“Kilby, you do not have to fuss,” Priddy lightly chided, when she joined them. She seemed remarkably calm in spite of her horrifying ordeal. If her dress had not been splattered with the earl’s blood, one might have thought they were enjoying a social call. “I understand, Your Grace, your friends will eventually return with the constable, and everyone will have questions.”

“It can all wait until later, can it not?” Kilby said, exasperated, knowing she was being difficult. She could not seem to resist. Ever since they had left the drawing room, she could not prevent the anger from overwhelming her. Nor could she seem to stop shaking, which in turn made her even more incensed. “Lord Ordish is certainly not going anywhere.”

“Kilby,” Fayne growled.

It was only the three of them in the library. Ramscar, Everod, and Cadd had left the house to gather the appropriate authorities, while Darknell and Gordon remained below in the front hall with Archer. Kilby had not had a chance to ask how her brother had gotten involved in this mess.

“I think we need to discuss matters before we speak to the authorities,” Fayne said, sounding practical and sane. It was all Kilby could do not to grit her teeth.

“I concur.” Priddy covered her mouth as her eyes filled with tears. It took her a few minutes to get control over her emotions. “Forgive me. You have been enormously patient with me, Your Grace. More than I deserve, considering that Kilby almost died because of me.”