The man laughed. “You can’t? How uneducated of you. Marriage has been forced for eons. Even in today’s world, even if the bride is unwilling, coin can still purchase a blind eye. In fact, it’s one of the better things coins can buy.”
“You wretched filth. That will never happen.”
“The only wretched filth I see here is you, Mr. Fury.”
“Well, this wretched filth will bloody rip you apart limb from limb if you touch even a single hair on Violet’s body.” The mere thought of her absence from his life sent a dark winter through his soul. In such a short time, she had become so deeply woven into his being that imagining life without her felt like tearing himself apart.
Percival chuckled. “Such theatrics for a person in your position. Do you truly believe bluster frightens men like me? We command the world.”
“You command your world, not mine.” Drake surged against the ropes, the cords biting deep. “Untie me,” he snarled. “Let us see how brave you are when my bonds come off.”
“Why would I?” The man pushed away from the wall and stood over him. “You see, Mr. Fury, you are very useful to me precisely as you are now, bound, helpless, and running out of time.”
“Time for what?” Drake demanded.
“Why, your life, of course.” The man pursed his lips, sudden realization dawning over his dull face. Something inside Drake rocked to a halt. “You don’t know the full scope of the woman you’ve fallen in love with, do you?” The man chuckled in amusement. “How unexpected, yet hownot.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t know Violet. She will never suffer cockchafers like you. I imagine that is why she ran away and set up shop here in Brighton. Why she climbed intomybed.”
The man’s face darkened. “Perhaps before the killing blow, I shall make you watch me marry yourVioletand then have her watch her own brother put a dagger in your heart.”
Brother.
Brother . . .
Bulldog.
Christ. It all suddenly made sense. Every bloody piece of Violet Sharpe fell into place.
The sister of the man trying to kill him.
Laughter tore from his throat. The little spitfire had known all along who he was looking for, who was behind these attacks on him and hadn’t breathed a damn word. Betrayal stabbed at his chest, fiercer than the dagger that arse put in him. Fiercer than this cockchafer’s blow to the back of his head. Fine. He understood. Would he tell him that secret if he were in her shoes? No. Right up to the moment she asked him if they were lovers or not. But she hadn’t trusted him.
Christ, she probably thought he’d toss her in one of his dungeons.
“Torturing our guest, are you, Percival?” a new voice asked. A red-haired man stepped into view.
Now this one, Drake recognized. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered. “So you’re the dog that’s been snapping at my heels since the start.” Violet’s brother. The Bulldog. Also known as Edmund Thickett Graves, the Earl of Barrowmere. This close, he could mark the resemblance, and if his memory of this man had been clearer in his mind, he’d have figured out his initial suspicions sooner.
The man’s mouth curved. “You seem rather bitten yourself.”
“Not as deeply as you might think.”
The dog chuckled. “I hear you’ve been keeping my sister company. A disobedient girl, that one.”
“So you’re the reason she fled home.” Drake wanted to rip the skeleton from the man’s body. “Ran all the way to Brighton to escape your charming authority.”
The man’s eyes hardened. “She’ll remember her place soon enough.”
“Seems to me she already found it. What’s the plan here? Marry her off to this puffed-up buffoon and kill me once the register is signed?” Never. Going. To. Happen. And if by some stroke of ill fate it did, he’d undo it all.
“That is precisely the plan,” the dog replied. “A grand fight between you and me.”
“You really should learn your lesson the first time.”
“Yes, well, this was a request from my esteemed supporter. One who helped me locate you, and rest assured, before this day is done, I’ll have snapped your wrists, so you’ll never lift them again.”
Drake ignored the last, and simply taunted, “And who is your supporter? Anotherdog?”
