Chapter Thirty
Talon and Daniel stood side by side, watching as James Sinclair took his last, choking gasp of air. Talon clenched his fists at his sides, still stunned by what had happened.
Daniel laid the gun on the desk and then knelt by Sutcliffe’s side, feeling for a pulse. “He’s gone,” he said a few moments later. “He’ll never bother any of us again.”
“Daniel, what have you done?” Talon stared at his brother, wondering if the younger man was in shock. “I never meant for you to get involved in this. This was my fight, not yours.”
“You think so?” Daniel shook his head and sank into the chair behind the desk, the one Sutcliffe had so recently vacated. “He never would have stopped. Even if you’d managed to take Kate and Elizabeth away from here, he would have found a way to hurt you. And once you were gone, he would have started on me again. He’d have found something else he could hold over me, forced me to marry some other poor girl.”
Talon rubbed a trembling hand over his face, knowing every word Daniel said was true. “You hated him even more than I did.”
Daniel nodded and met Talon’s gaze head on. “He was always making me do things I didn’t want to do.” His voice broke, and Talon saw unimaginable pain in his brother’s light blue eyes. “Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“Christ.” Talon looked away, remembering that night on the ship when Daniel had claimed there were worse things than poverty.
He’d been right.
Daniel took a deep, shuddering breath. “Well, it won’t ever happen again. Not to me, not to you. Not to any innocent child ever again. I’m not sorry. I’m willing to take the consequences.”
There was a swift knock on the door, and Lionel burst in, a revolver in his large, capable hands. He took in the situation with impassive eyes then turned and murmured something to the gathering crowd of servants outside before shutting the door firmly behind him.
“Which one of you finally gave the old bastard what he deserved?” Lionel asked without a flicker of surprise.
Talon looked into the footman’s face and realized Lionel was an ally, not an enemy. Hell, he probably knew better than anyone how evil Sutcliffe had been. “I’m afraid the honors go to Daniel.”
Daniel buried his face in his hands. “I couldn’t take it any more, Lionel. He pushed me too far this time.”
Lionel stared at Daniel for a long moment, compassion in his dark, knowing eyes. “Every man’s got a limit. I expect you’ve been pushed further than most, Lord Sutcliffe.”
“Lord Sutcliffe?” Daniel whispered. “Thank you for that, Lionel. I doubt I’ll be hearing it again once the constable comes.”
Lionel glanced at Talon. “I don’t think there’s going to be a problem with the constable. I’m sure your brother will be more than happy to testify to what he saw here tonight, and so will I.”
“What did I see?” Talon asked, realizing the big man had a plan. “Your father surprised a prowler.” As he spoke, Lionel crossed the room and slid aside a painting, revealing a hidden safe. He deftly worked the combination and opened it, tossing papers and stacks of money to the floor. “The thief shot him then escaped through the window when the two of you came running.”
Lionel hefted one small stack of bills and lifted a brow. When Daniel nodded, Lionel grinned and pocketed the money. “By the time I arrived, the two of you had already determined your father was dead.”
Talon crossed the room, opening one of the large windows. “I believe this was the window he escaped through, wasn’t it?”
Daniel glanced between them, cautious hope dawning in his eyes. “You don’t have to do this.”
Talon exchanged a look with Lionel, certain the footman could be trusted. “You don’t deserve to die, Daniel. If we have to tell a few lies to prevent that from happening, we will.”
* * * * *
Kate sat in the darkness, holding her baby in her arms, tears streaming down her cheeks as the echoes of a gunshot faded away. The sound was a death knell, not just for her father-in-law, but for all her dreams.
In her heart, she really hadn’t thought Talon would go through with it. Even when he’d walked out the door, she’d been certain he’d come back once he’d had a few moments to think about what he was losing.
How could he have looked into Elizabeth’s helpless little face and made the decision to desert her? Was he more like Sutcliffe than she’d imagined? Was he as disappointed as Sutcliffe that she hadn’t given him a son?
She stroked Elizabeth’s downy cheek, her tears falling even harder.
She knew she should go below and attempt to keep Talon out of prison, but the futility of it overwhelmed her. Sutcliffe had been an earl. His peers would demand justice for what had happened.
Justice?
She had a sudden, vivid image of a noose around Talon’s beautiful neck, his long, lean body dancing in the wind. No. No matter what he’d done, she couldn’t allow him to die. There was no justice in that.
