She had to get out of here. She couldn’t wait around for them to kill her and Felicity, too.
“Stop!” the man yelled before she’d made it a quarter of the way toward the door.
Vanessa froze for half a second before sprinting madly toward the door. She had just reached the knob when the man’s hand closed around her ankle, pulling her feet out from beneath her. She managed to tuck the baby safely against her but still hit the stairs hard enough to knock the wind out of her.
“Where do ye think ye’re going, ye wee bitch?” the man snarled, dragging her back down the stairs.
She hadn’t yet gotten her breath back, and as she slid down each stair, unbearable pain racked her body. At last, he caught sight of the baby in her arms, and he froze.
“What the ’ell ’appened ’ere?” he snarled. “Why’s yere little friend ’ere dead? Where the ’ell did this ’ere baby come from?”
Drawing a gasping breath at last, Vanessa stared up at the man with sheer hatred. “You threw her down the stairs, you bastard. She had the baby and then she died.”
The man rubbed his forehead, obvious fear in his beady eyes. Vanessa took a bit of hope from that. Obviously killing them had not been part of his boss’s plans. Perhaps she would survive this thing after all.
“Who told you to take us?” she demanded. “Why did you kidnap us?”
The man shook his head, muttered beneath his breath, and stalked away, slamming the door shut behind him and plunging the room into darkness once again.
Vanessa cuddled Felicity in and arms, pulled her knees to her chest, and wept until the tears would no longer come.
* * * *
ROGER WAS AT HIS HOUSEon Bloomsbury Square, smoking a cigar and waiting impatiently for an update from his men. One of them should have been back hours ago, and he chafed at the delay. Had those bumbling buffoons managed to kidnap one of his stepsisters-in-law or not? He could hardly wait for Adrian and Morgan to find out what he’d done. Excitement pulsed through him at the thought of Adrian begging him to let his wife go.
The conflict between him and them had been a long time coming, and he was ready to get it over with. He didn’t fear them, and he’d enjoy very much seeing one of them on their knees, sobbing with fear, right before he put a gun to their head.
He’d lived nearly two decades with the anger and grief of his father’s death. He could never prove any of them had done it, and the constable had scoffed at the idea of one of the boys having the strength to push the earl off the tower. Roger had always been fairly certain that all of them had been in on it. He only wished that Lucien was married, so he could have targeted his wife as well. Though he supposed he’d already had his revenge on that bastard. Of a sort anyway.
His musings were interrupted by a hesitant knock at his study door.
“Yes?” he snapped. “What is it?”
Otis poked his head in the door, and the look on his face made Roger’s stomach drop.
“Uh, sir? We have a problem.”
Roger took a deep breath, restraining the urge once again to kill him. “What is the problem, Otis?”
Otis stepped all the way into the room. “Well, sir, we managed to get both of the women.”
Roger grinned, thrilled with that news. “Well, then, what is the problem?”
Otis ducked his head, refusing to meet Roger’s gaze. “One of ’em’s dead, sir.”
“What?” Roger snarled, getting to his feet and moving across the room until Otis had no choice but to look him in the eyes. “What the hell happened?”
Otis shuffled his feet. “Well, sir, that blonde one, she was a ’andful. She wouldn’t go down the stairs, was clingin’ to the doorframe and diggin’ ’er heel in, screamin’. So... I pushed ’er, ’opin’ she’d let go of the door.” He stopped then, obviously afraid to go on.
Roger took another deep breath, wondering how he’d ever hired such incompetent fools. “You pushed her? You pushed her and the fall killed her?”
Otis nodded, shamefaced. “I wasn’t tryin’ to kill ’er. I just wanted to get ’er down the stairs.” He shook his head. “That’d be the pregnant one. She ’ad that baby before she died an’ the other one ’as it now.” Tears filled the big man’s eyes. “I ain’t never killed no woman before.”
A pang of regret went through Roger, surprising him. He’d killed Anne, just as surely as if he’d pushed the pregnant woman himself. Shrugging the thought away, he planted his fist in Otis’s face. “You idiot! I needed her alive! Those bastards will never kneel before me now! They’ll be after my blood! How could you be so stupid!”
Otis pressed his hand to his jaw, shaking his head, wincing in pain. “I’m that sorry, sir. I never meant to do it!”
Roger turned away, cursing loudly. “What am I supposed to do now?”
