Mr. Barron could do nothing with Rafe’s pistol pressed against his side. Even so, the whites of his eyes rolled from me to Rafe.
“You don’t just want me. You’ll want the Dilettanti as well. They paid Cobb and me to steal the mosaics. I won’t hang for their crimes. Nor will I take the blame for Cobb setting fire to the abbey. Why, even your sweet Miss Perry had a hand in the affair.”
“You have plenty of sins to answer for,” I said, though my voice wavered. Abigail’s betrayal cut deep, especially after all I had done for her. I dreaded facing her again, but if Rafe could choose mercy, I wanted to do the same.
We marched through the hall with Mr. Barron. At the end, in the west wing, the slender form of a man skidded to a halt near the guest bedrooms.
Mr. Beaumont.
Had he come for Rafe’s lockbox as well? To my dismay another fire, one far more advanced, devoured the walls, outlining the elegant silhouette as it raised its arm.
I cried out just as the pistol went off with a puff of smoke. Rafe dragged Mr. Barron with him, lunging to the left while I stood in the center of the hallway like a deer paralyzed in the forest at the first sight of a hunter.
The bullet whistled past me, thudding into something. Or someone, considering the cry.
Mr. Beaumont missed me. Muttering a curse, he reached into his crimson waistcoat and plucked out a second pistol.
I had seen the devil in the Bacchus mosaic and had once chuckled at it. But now, the handsome Apollo at the opposite end of the corridor, the very image of Satan highlighted by flames, raised my hackles. His blue eyes, ever so lifeless, sent a shiverthrough me as he raised the new pistol and aimed it straight for my heart.
“You little viper,” he breathed.
Oddly, my mind conjured a picture of Perseus facing Medusa in the ultimate tussle, but I had no weapon to turn him into stone. I could only duck, yet I froze, sluggishly comprehending that I would likely die within the next second.
A body hurtled on top of me, knocking me off my feet as guns simultaneously exploded. I heard a grunt and felt arms wrap around me as I tumbled to the hard floor, knocking the back of my skull in the process.
When I opened my eyes, Rafe’s face hovered over me. He said something, but my ears rang too loudly to perceive it.
He slipped a hand beneath my head and drew me closer. “Bridget, are you all right? Speak to me.”
“I’m fine,” I gasped even if stars floated in my vision.
Rafe exhaled and gently pulled me into a sitting position, cradling me as if he would never let go. Then I spied Mr. Beaumont clutching his arm before he turned on his heel and rushed deeper into the west wing, where the flames awaited him.
Mr. Barron lay on the floor, clutching his side where crimson dripped down his waistcoat and onto the floor, his mouth moving with shock.
“He shot me! Blasted aim for such a high and mighty son of an earl.”
I suspected Rafe fired first as he leaped in front of me. He released me and looped an arm around my waist before lifting me to my feet.
He cupped my cheek for the briefest moment, his intense gaze searching mine.
“I’m truly fine. Two are better than one,” I reassured him.
His lips quirked, softening his stern features. Never again would I labor under the misconception that I had to face life alone.
He reached for Mr. Barron and lifted him with a grunt. “That west wing will collapse. Come, man. Unless you want to burn to death.”
As if to agree, a gust of smoke billowed our way, flooding the area until we were all coughing yet again. Rafe’s warning gaze met mine when I joined him. I slid my arm around Mr. Barron and together we supported him as he gnashed his teeth. We staggered forward, down the staircase, and out into the fresh air where the tenants continued fighting the flames while the abbey groaned and creaked as beams falling echoed.
My father pushed through the crowd, bringing Constable Wickham with him. I ran to Father and flung my arms about his neck, my tears flowing once again.
“Bridget,” Father said, clasping me as though he would never let go. “I found your handkerchief, and Mr. Harrington sent for the constable after Miss Perry came to us. She was beside herself, weeping over what she had done.”
I jerked back. “She betrayed us, Father!”
“She arrived not long after you were taken. She hasn’t stopped crying since, and it seems remorse has taken hold of her.”
I wanted nothing more to do with her.
