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there, Cyn. Don’t fret. He’ll be fine. I’m sure of it.”
“Yes,” Cynthia prayed. “He must be.” She couldn’t imagine a world without Nick even if they were separated by an ocean. She’d only just gotten him back. Nothing could happen to him now.
They finally reached the flat plain of the valley, and Emma whipped the horses to a reckless gallop. It seemed an eternity before they reached the pale green trees, and another eternity before they drove around the edge of them and saw the men standing there. Even at that distance, even in the dim and misty light, she could pick out Nick’s body. The elegant way he turned. The line of his wide shoulders.
The other man raised a gun. Nick didn’t move.
“Oh, no,” she sobbed.
Emma’s hand bounced against her knee. “No matter what, do not distract him.”
Aim! She screamed inside her head. Shoot! But Nick stared at Richmond as if he were impervious to fear or bullets.
The curricle began to slow. A crack tore through the tranquil morning and rent Cynthia’s heart in two. Richmond’s gun smoked, and Nick was still standing.
Finally Nick’s arm rose. He took his sweet time sighting his prey. Richmond took one step back, but it was no use. Nick pulled the trigger, a sharp blast exploded through the air, and Richmond was falling.
Before Emma could stall the horses, Cynthia had jumped down. She wanted to hug Nick and then charge over to Richmond’s body and spit on it. But Nick still held the pistol, raised and pointed straight at Bram.
Cynthia skidded to a stop on the wet grass. It wasn’t over after all.
“Keep Cynthia back,” Lancaster said to Somerhart before walking toward Bram. Richmond lay on the ground at his feet, blood trickling sluggishly from the hole in his neck.
Lancaster was tempted to shoot him again. It didn’t seem possible that the creature who’d caused so much torment could die so easily. It should have been harder than that.
But he needed his last bullet.
He tightened his grip on the pistol and aimed it at Bram’s head. “Are you his heir?”
“No. I come by way of the housekeeper.”
“You’re his son.”
Bram glanced down. “I was.”
Lancaster hesitated. “You grew up there? In his home?”
“I did.” His face was blank as ever, and Nick felt sick at the sight of it. This was what a man looked like when he was raised by Richmond. Not one emotion crossed his face. No thought flickered behind his eyes. He was gone as if he’d never existed.
But Lancaster kept the pistol pointed at his heart. “What about Miss Merrithorpe?”
Bram shrugged. “What about her?”
“Do you mean her harm?”
“She’s nothing to me now.”
The answer tightened his shoulders. “What was your interest before?”
“Richmond wanted an heir and couldn’t get one on her himself. He promised me two thousand pounds.”
“For what?” Lancaster bit out. The muzzle shook.
“A successful breeding.”
“You fucking bastard.” The world began to buzz around him.
Bram lowered his hands while Lancaster’s knuckles whitened on the grip. “Shoot me if you mean to. I don’t care. Dead or alive, I’m free of him now.”
