Page 38 of Only a Mistress Will Do

“Kit?” Her cousin. A chill swept through her. The marquess, Tristan’s friend, had fought Kit? “When did you say this was?” A hothead all his life, Kit had fought several duels.

“May of 1760.”

“Oh, God.” On May 25, 1760 Kit had been killed in a duel. She leaped to her feet. “Your friend killed my cousin and my brother?” Blood throbbed in her ears. Tris had known. He’d been there and had seen it. And he hadn’t told her.

“No.” Tris shook his head. “Duncan fought your cousin and, yes, killed him in a fair fight.” He set his glass on the table and looked her in the face. “I killed your brother.”

Chapter 15

Roaring deafened her. She couldn’t comprehend what he had said. He hadn’t said what she thought he’d said. He hadn’t. She was mistaken. Black spots crowded out the sight of Tristan’s face, white as parchment, shouting something.

Violet sat up and gasped.

“There you are, miss.” Susan stood up, a vial of smelling salts in her hand. “She’ll be all right now, my lord.” She left and closed the door.

Violet lay on the pink parlor sofa, her feet atop a pile of pillows.

“Are you all right, Violet?” Tris sat down beside her. “You swooned.”

Had she? “Oh, God.” She did remember. “Get away! Get away from me!” With a shriek, she sprang off the sofa and ran behind it. “You killed him. You killed Jamie.” She burst into tears, the rage and pain of betrayal licking through her veins. How could he have done such a thing?

“I had no choice, Violet. Don’t you know what happened?” He took a slow step toward her.

“Stop. Don’t come near me.” Oh, but she wanted to die. The sharp sorrow of Jamie’s death reared itself from the shallow grave she’d fought to keep it in all these months. She’d had to move past the agony of grief in order to survive. That hurt, however, paled in comparison to the raw agony of Tris’s betrayal. “How could you?”

“I had to, Violet. You told me you knew what happened.” Misery stared out of his eyes. “Duncan had just pierced your cousin below the heart. As he lay dying, your brother knelt beside him, comforting him for the few minutes he had left.” Pacing between the sofa and the sideboard, he opened and closed his fists. “I was standing next to Duncan when from the corner of my eye I saw your brother leap to his feet, draw his sword, and run toward Duncan.” Sudden anger flashed in Tris’s face. “Duncan had his back to them. I had only seconds to act. I pushed Duncan out of the way. I drew my sword as your brother lunged and he ran onto my blade.”

Despicable man. She glared at Tris and backed up. Oh, she’d known Jamie’s actions were dishonorable. That was why she’d been shunned by almost all the ton. But he hadn’t deserved to die. Tears tumbled down her face.

“It’s all your fault.” She managed to stop the tears long enough to throw that at him. “If you hadn’t killed Jamie I wouldn’t have ended up at Madame Vestry’s to be bought by you.” Betrayed. Betrayed by the man who had killed her brother and stolen her heart. “Why? Why didn’t you tell me that night? You knew and you didn’t tell me you had killed him.”

“Because I wanted to help you and I feared you wouldn’t take my help if you knew.” Slowly, he shifted from one foot to another.

“Of course I wouldn’t have gone with you if I’d known.” He must be mad himself. She squeezed her temples, praying the doors of Bedlam would open and swallow her, making this a lunatic’s dream.

“Violet.” He eased toward her another step.

“Stop!” She skittered back from the sofa. “Don’t come near me.” Blast the luck, he stood between her and the doorway.

“I won’t.” Tris raised his hands, palms out, and backed away. “I won’t come near you. I’m sorry I’ve hurt you. More sorry than you can know. Because I still love you.”

“Oh, you wretch!” She grabbed a vase of dried flowers and hurled it at him.

He ducked and it crashed into the wall.

“Don’t you ever say such a thing to me again. Don’t speak to me at all!” Seizing a China figurine, she heaved that at his head.

When he ducked it, she sprinted out the door, up the stairs and into her room. She slammed the door and turned the key. Chest heaving, she leaned against it, sobbing, unable to breathe.

Someone pounded up the stairs.

“Violet. Please just talk to me.” Tristan’s muffled voice sent a spike of pain through her head.

“Go away. I never want to see you or hear from you or speak to you again.” Her throat hurt from all the screeching. Gripped with a sudden madness, she turned the key in the lock, jerked the door open, and came face to face with Tristan.

“Violet.” Wide-eyed, he just stared.

“Ever again!” She slammed the door and locked it.