Heather whimpered, pressing herself against the seat, her wide, terrified eyes darting between the glinting blade and Grace’s face.
Lord Harry sneered at the sight.
‘That’s better,’ he mused, adjusting his grip on the swordstick. ‘You are both quick learners. Such a pity...’
Then, in a sharper voice, he barked out of the window, ‘James! Take us to my country Manor.’
‘Aye, me lord,’ came the obedient response from the coachman.
The carriage veered sharply off the main road.
Grace’s heart pounded against her ribs. The country Manor. Isolated. Remote.
No one would hear them scream.
‘Wh-wh-what will you do with us?’ Heather stammered, her voice trembling as she clung to Grace’s arm.
Grace could barely contain her own panic, but she fought to keep her voice steady. She needed to buy time. To make someone—anyone—realise they had gone the wrong way.
‘You will not get away with this. The Duke will come for you. He will figure it out—he will know it was you all along,’ she said, willing her voice to sound more confident than she felt.
Lord Harry let out a cruel, hollow laugh.
‘So sure of yourself, aren’t you, my pet?’ he drawled mockingly. ‘I amcountingon it.’
The carriage rattled along the uneven path, each jolt intensifying Grace’s growing dread.
She had to keep him talking.
The words tumbled from her lips, a desperate mix of fury and terror. ‘You murdered Gibbs and had all those girls kidnapped. Did you poison the Duke’s father? Were you responsible for the carriage accident that killed Lord Gareth? And what of the man of business? How many people have you killed, Lord Harry?’
Grace’s mind worked furiously, piecing together the puzzle.
A slow, sinister smile spread across his face, his dark eyes glinting with malice.
He said nothing.
Only silence.
The only sound was the rhythmic roll of the carriage wheels against the road. But it felt as if a thousand years had passed.
He wasenjoyingthis.
He was savouring every second of fear he had instilled in them.
Chapter 28
Finally, he spoke, his voice dripping with amusement.
‘My, my, Miss Skye. What an imagination you have,’ he mused, pressing the tip of the swordstick against Heather’s bodice. She yelped as the fabric tore. He was toying with them.
Grace clenched her fists.
‘But since you seem so eager to know, allow me to satisfy your curiosity.’
He leaned forward slightly, the blade gleaming between them.
‘I have killed many people, Miss Skye. My first kill was my father.’
