“Why are you doing this?” she asked, unsure of what his true intent was.
“I’m tired of you not being respectful, Diana,” he stated, finally turning his cold, cruel eyes on her. “I’ve already made it very clear that I wanted you to marry well. While most gentlemen may want sons, I only wanted daughters. A son may inherit one’s legacy, but…what’s a legacy? I’ll be dead. What will I care then? A daughter may marry, and then improve one’s standing, all while I’m still alive.”
He smiled at her, as if he had realized something important. “You may marry a Duke, and then, he will owe me, as my son-in-law. Then, your son will be a Duke, while your second son will be an Marquess. Do you see?” He leaned in. “Do you see, Diana? By doing it this way, then we improve the status of our family. A Duke will owe me his allegiance.”
She now saw what it was that her father saw her as. She was nothing but a pawn in his scheme. She was a token to be exchanged for something useful.
I should have eloped with Elijah days ago.
She had taken her father’s feelings into consideration because she had loved the mask he wore. It was a betrayal that cut deep. She could have been married and staying happily in the north with the gentleman that she loved.
A tear fell, sliding down her cheek. She was past really crying. Somewhere, at her core, there was a deep, dark terror. She knew that he was going to hurt her. And if she did anything that made him angry, then he was going to kill Elijah. She knew it, with utter certainty.
She couldn’t imagine a world without Elijah. Without him, her whole life would be gone.
He had done the same thing to Eleonora, with Elijah’s father. He wouldn’t hesitate to do it for a second time.
“So I must teach you to respect me. We can keep going, until you have learned. As I said, we have three days. London is only a few hours away.” He had returned to the fire, where he had laid the poker down into the flames, heating it up once more.
Diana had never considered how long three days could be. They stretched before her, a long interminable torment. And then, she would have to go to the ball, where she would have to learn how to wear a mask in order to survive. She would have to pretend that all was well, when she was empty inside.
Elijah will come for me. Eleonora will get to Cambolton…though, how will they know to come here?
It looked like she would have to survive this ordeal. Then, they would find her in London. They would rescue her before the wedding. She steeled herself, her hands balled into fists at her sides.
She knew that this was going to be a trial for her. She was going to have to survive it. Elijah would never allow her to wed the Duke of Morrow. He would be in London, by the time they arrived.
“I never realized just how similar both of my daughters were,” her father commented. “Not until recently. Eleonora is past saving. She’s ruined, and it’s all her own doing. I will always take care of her, but she threw away any potential that she had. But you, Diana. I can still mold you into the proper Duchess that you were always meant to be.”
He bent down, then picked up the poker, then turned toward her. The tip of it glowed with heat.
Diana closed her eyes. She conjured up the image of Elijah, when he looked at her. In the millhouse, during one of the happiest moments of her life. In her mind, her hand went up to caress his cheek, and he leaned into it. She let herself be infused by Elijah’s love for her—his goodness, too.
I can make it through this. He will come for me. I don’t know how, or when.
She could only hope that Eleonora had made it out of the house. She felt the heat, emanating from the poker.
“Open your eyes,” her father ordered. The skin of her cheek heated up, but she knew that he would never harm her face. He had too much riding upon it.
Gritting her teeth, she shook her head, keeping her eyes firmly closed. She didn’t want to see that awful coldness in her father’s eyes as he hurt her. She wanted to think of Elijah, conjuring him in her mind. His image was like a balm, soothing her and helping her to bear her punishment.
“Open your eyes, Diana.” There was a warning in his tone.
“No.”
“Do as I say.”
Diana swallowed, tears flowing down her cheeks. He was only getting angrier. He wanted her to do as he said. But she was not going to bow down to his wishes. She was going to fight back. She was not going to be the victim.
“Open your eyes. I will not ask again.”
She braced herself for the blow and the scorching heat of the metal. She gritted her teeth, already refusing to scream when it happened. She wasn’t going to give him anything.
“Fine,” he snapped, pressing the metal to her skin. She cried out, despite her gritted teeth. It was the same arm he had attacked, which meant that this was only the first of many.
The door opened with a loud, percussive bang, as if it had been kicked. Diana’s eyes flew open and she glanced at the door, to find both Elijah and Eleonora there.
She was filled with both relief—and terror. Neither one of them was armed, and from the look of it, they were alone.
“No,” she said, weak with emotion. “You have to get out of here.”
“What have you done to her?” Elijah demanded, turning on her father.
* * *
As soon as the door opened, Elijah saw the red burns on Diana’s injured arm, and the poker in Lord Lutterhall’s hand. The Earl grinned at him, waving the poker. Its tip was bright orange, gleaming with heat.
“That’s none of your concern, Lord Cambolton.” The way that he said it, he was mocking him. “I’ve told you, time and again. Go away.”
“I love her. Of course, it’s my concern.” Elijah’s eyes took in the situation. Lord Lutterhall had a poker, as well as a pistol holstered at his hip. Elijah was unarmed. He had underestimated the Earl.
“Diana is engaged to the Duke of Morrow. You need to learn to move on, My Lord. There is nothing that you can do to change it.”
“Never. As long as I draw breath, I will never let her go.”
“Then I’ll help you move on,” Lord Lutterhall threatened as he raised the poker, to strike at Diana. She cringed, cowering in fear as he made to bring the poker down against her arm.
Elijah saw red as he threw himself at the Earl. Lord Lutterhall corrected his course at the last moment, attempting to stab him in the chest with the poker’s hot tip, at the same time as Elijah collided into him, sending the both of them sprawling on the stone floor. The poker clattered on the stones and out of both of their reach.
As they fell to the floor, both of them grappled, trying to prevent the other from getting the poker. Diana was screaming.
“No! Let him go!” she sobbed. Lady Eleonora was silent. Elijah half-wondered what she was doing. He struggled, keeping his focus. Lord Lutterhall was his equal match. While both of them struggled, neither could win. The Earl was doing remarkably—even without his glasses.
Then, the Earl growled, then flipped, so that Elijah was on his back. Elijah struggled to catch his breath as he had the air knocked out of him. The Earl was stronger than he made himself appear. Elijah had thought him reticent, weak. He was not. His muscles were whipcord thin, and very strong. When Elijah looked him in the eye, he saw a murderous gleam there.
He’s going to kill me, in the same place he killed my father.
Elijah was struck by the thought. There was nothing that he could do—it was taking all of his strength.
Lord Lutterhall had the poker held tightly in both of his hands, trying to use it to press down on Elijah’s neck. He could see the orange glow of it in his peripheral vision, and feel the heat emanating from the metal. He was using all of his strength to push it up and toward the Earl. Elijah knew that he needed to do something decisive, and fast. His arms were weakening.
“Look at you,” the Earl growled. “Just as weak as your father was. I shot him here. Almost exactly in the same place.”
Elijah twiste
d the Earl’s wrist, causing the poker to fall from the Earl’s grip. It clattered to the floor, a few feet away. Then, before the Earl could recover, Elijah kneed him in the groin, and the Earl grunted. Elijah kicked with his knee again, and the Earl fell back. Elijah knew that it had been too easy. It had been a feint. However, it gave him the chance to lunge for the poker.
As he turned back toward his opponent, he found that the Earl had pulled his pistol out from where he’d had it holstered on his hip.
“Like father, like son, I suppose.”
Elijah saw the firelight, gleaming on the cold metal. The Earl was trying to cock it—his wrist was clearly injured after Elijah had wrenched it. Quickly, he swung the poker at his hand, the sound of the hot poker against the Earl’s skin was a soft sizzle. He watched as the pistol was flung out of it. It hit the ground, though Elijah kept his focus on the Earl.
The Earl growled in anger and pain, lunging, and then hitting into Elijah with such force that he fell back, hitting his head on the floor. Dazed, Elijah didn’t get the chance to fight back.
The Earl was on top of him, his hands wrapping around his throat. Futilely, Elijah tried to fight back. The sound of his heartbeat was loud, drowning out Diana’s screams. Everything was beginning to fuzz and fade at the edges, black creeping in.
The Earl’s grimace was feral. His eyes had a murderous gleam. Elijah hit at him with a hand, to no avail.
This is the last thing I’ll see—his angry face.
He wished that he had been able to speak to Diana, one last time. Or that he would have been able to marry her. The life that they would have had was fading away with him. Feebly, he hit at the Earl, who only squeezed harder.
Just as Elijah began to lose consciousness, there was a loud bang. The Earl’s grip loosened. Elijah gasped for air, rolling on his side. The air was scented with gunpowder.
* * *
Eleonora had seen her father drop the pistol, then he was strangling Lord Cambolton. It was like losing Nicholas all over again. Lord Cambolton looked so much like him, that it was overwhelming. Her only thought was, Do something! It was, oddly enough, in Nicholas’s voice. She had moved without another thought, picking up the fallen pistol, and then aiming, and pulling the trigger.
Eleonora stood there, watching her father fall, her ears ringing. She was shocked in that moment. She hadn’t done something so decisive in a very long time. Perhaps, ever.
She watched, horrified as her father clasped his chest, and then slumped over, falling off of Lord Cambolton as he was struck by the lead ball. Her father coughed, blood flecking his lips. His eyes stared at Eleonora, blaming her. His jacket was open, and there was a spreading red patch, seeping through his white shirt.
Lord Cambolton was sprawled on his back, gasping for air, like a fish. He was blinking, tears streaming down his cheeks. He turned onto his side, sobbing with relief. Eleonora breathed a sigh of relief, the pistol lowering. He was very much alive. She had saved him. History hadn’t repeated itself.
Her eyes met her father’s. He seemed as shocked as she was. His hand was clutching at the massive wound in his chest.
“That was for Nicholas,” she whispered, her voice shaky. Her father’s face closed off then, as he realized that she knew—had known for some time.
“Elijah?” Diana called out, her voice sounding frightened—so terribly frightened and small like a child.
Eleonora turned to her sister, and began to untie her. The knots were done tightly, and her nervous fingers fumbled with them. Diana’s cheeks were streaked with tears. The sleeve had been torn off of her riding habit. The skin on her arm was burned, blistering, swollen.
Finally, Eleonora got the knots undone. Diana got up from the chair, staggering over to Lord Cambolton. Her knees seemed to give out as she knelt beside him. Eleonora watched as Elijah struggled to sit up, and Diana was sobbing as she held his face in her hands. He kissed her, and Eleonora wanted to cry.
Instead, she turned away, to let them have their moment. She walked over to her father. He lay on the floor, his mouth agape. His hands were over the wound in his chest, both covered in blood. He was gasping in pain. Her knees gave out, and she knelt down beside him, staring at him.
“I never would have expected this from you, my dear,” he muttered coldly.
Eleonora swallowed. “I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered. “Not anymore. I remember everything.”
He looked at her with begrudging respect. “I underestimated you.”
“What did you do to Sarah?” she asked. Because one thing that Eleonora knew with certainty was that Sarah would never have left her. Not of her own volition, and certainly not without leaving word. There was only one person who would have benefitted from her disappearance. And he lay there, dying in front of her.
“I’ll never tell you.” He bared his teeth at her, coughing.
“I know that you convinced her to meet you here. I know you hurt her, and for that, I’ll never forgive you. This is your one chance to do something right, Father. You’re dying.”
His eyes widened in fear. He grimaced, his teeth red with blood. “She’s buried out behind the cottage, in the woods.”
Eleonora nodded. She knelt there, watching as the life drained from him. She didn’t need to know how he had killed Sarah. She didn’t want to give him the pleasure of recounting it.
She stayed where she was, until his eyes were staring, lifeless. His pupils dilated, until they were large black circles. A pool of blood was spreading on the ground around him, staining the skirt of Eleonora’s gown.
I just killed my father. What will become of me?
Chapter 38
Diana and Elijah knelt together on the stone floor, their arms wrapped around each other. Their foreheads touched. She allowed herself a moment to relax in his arms. She kept her eyes closed. He was still alive—his heart beat just under her hand, where it rested on his chest. She opened her eyes, looking over to where Eleonora was sitting beside their father, sobbing.
“Eleonora?” Diana asked, worried for her sister.
“I killed him,” she sobbed. “But I couldn’t let it happen again.”
Eleonora had saved them. Now, they needed to get her out of this place. She looked to Elijah.
“Come,” Elijah said, his voice hoarse. “We should get to Cambolton. We can send for the constable and the physician.” He got to his feet, offering Diana his hand. She took it, leaning against him as they walked out of the cottage. Eleonora followed after them.
“What about—what about my father’s carriage?” Diana asked as they stepped out of the cottage. There were only two horses, standing soberly by the path. One was Elijah’s hunter. The other was Eleonora’s mare. The carriage was nowhere to be seen.
“As soon as we came down the road, they fled,” Elijah told her. “I reckon that they’ll be back sooner or later. I’d rather not be here when that happens.” This was a good point. Had they not fled, then they would have all certainly been in a lot of trouble.
Diana looked over at Eleonora. She was hugging herself, her arms wrapped tightly to her body. She was trembling. Her lips were so pale they were white.
“Eleonora?” Diana said softly.
“I know he was an evil man,” Eleonora said. “But I didn’t mean to kill him. I just…I…” Eleonora shook her head, then looked down at her hands, which were covered in their father’s blood. She wiped them on her skirts, which were also bloody.
“Of course, you didn’t.” Diana took her sister’s hand in her own. She looked over at Elijah.
“I suppose I’ll have to surrender myself,” Eleonora said numbly. She was still shaking, and Diana knew that she was going into shock.
“Not if I have anything to say about it,” Elijah said. “You saved my life, My Lady. For that, I owe you my allegiance and protection.”
He offered her his hand, which Eleonora took.
“I promise,” he told her. Diana was glad that he was so put-together in that m
oment. She herself was nowhere near it. “Nothing’s going to happen to you. Not so long as I draw breath.” Eleonora’s eyes teared up as she nodded.
“Thank you, My Lord.”
Elijah smiled grimly. “Please, call me Elijah. We’re going to be family soon and you’ve saved my life. Come, let’s go to Cambolton House. I don’t want to be caught here by the Earl’s men when they return.”
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