Font Size:  

He tried again, this time louder.

“Have you lost your key, monsieur?” Maurelle's icy voice sounded from within. “Don't bother getting an­other. I have nothing more to say to you.”

That was all Crompton needed.

He pulled out a blade, slipped it into the keyhole, and gave a hard flick of his wrist.

A telltale click told him he'd accomplished his goal.

He turned the door handle and stepped into the room.

Maurelle looked up from the chair her features set in hard, unyielding lines. “I just said I'm finished speaking to...” Her mou

th snapped shut, and she gave a start of surprise as she saw who her guest was. “Ansel.” She rushed over, gripping his arms and peer­ing wildly over his shoulder. “Are you insane? You're playing right into Chadwick's hands.”

“No. He's playing into mine.” Crompton shut the door, capturing Maurelle's chin in his gloved hand and tilting up her face so he could study it. “What methods did he use to force you? I'll prolong his death one painful minute for every time he took you.”

Maurelle's brows drew together. “What are you talking about? He didn't bed me. Is that what his let­ter said? He was baiting you, Ansel. He cut a lock of my hair and took my chemise. But he never laid a hand on me.”

Thunderclouds erupted on Crompton's face. “He described your birthmark. The one here.” He touched her breast.

“My birthmark.” Maurelle glanced down at herself in puzzlement. “How could he ... ?” Abruptly, her head snapped up, and her eyes blazed with anger. “That bitch Lady Breanna. She was in here while I was changing. She must have given him a descrip­tion.” Worry supplanted rage. “Chadwick arranged this. So he must know you're here. He'll kill you.”

“No. He doesn’t know I'm here and, no, he won't kill me.” Fury rippled through Crompton's body in violent currents, intensifying as he realized how Chadwick had duped him. “I have no intentions of letting him win.”

“But he set this whole thing up so—”

“Yes.” Crompton's confidence returned as he reevaluated the events of the day. “He managed to de­ceive me. But I've outmaneuvered him. This morning, he suspected I broke in. But I've since convinced him otherwise. He now thinks the household is safe and secure. Which gives me the advantage.”

Crompton seized Maurelle's hand, led her to the door. “ Chadwick 's amateur tactics are over. I'm get­ting you out of here. Then, I'm coming back and completing things once and for all. I'll execute Lady Anastasia the way I should have in August. Then, I'll make her wretched cousin beg for mercy. And once I have, I'll fire a shot through her heart right in front of Chadwick, show him how pitifully he's failed in his attempts to protect her.”

“And Chadwick?” Maurelle's eyes were glowing with smug anticipation.

“He'll die next,” Crompton vowed, hatred etched on his features, pervading his tone. “I'll relish that mo­ment. Then, I'll do away with Wells and Hibbert, and whoever else gets in my way, including Sheldrake.” He paused, the taste of victory on his tongue. “I won't have further need of the House of Lockewood anyway. You and I will be sailing away this very night.”

Maurelle nodded eagerly. “Oui. I can hardly wait.”

Inside the next room, Wells stood, taut and ready, his fingers gripping the door handle.

He forced himself to wait, to follow Lord Royce 's instructions to the letter.

He remained still, listening as Crompton exited with Maurelle, their footsteps moving toward the rear of the house, then fading into silence.

Instantly, he rushed from his room and upstairs to the library.

“He freed her, my lord,” he announced breathlessly to Royce. “They just left the house. Through the bad entrance, I think.”

“Excellent.” Royce checked his pistol, a fierce light glinting in his eyes. “Let's give them a minute. I want Crompton a healthy distance from the manor, for Bre­anna and Anastasia's sake. Then, the rest is up to me.”

“No.” Damen stood, snatching up his own gun “It's up to us. I want him dead as much as you do. Be­sides, it's you who's been goading him. If he sees you, he'll go after you with a vengeance. You'll need help.”

Royce gave a terse nod.

Breanna bit her hp, exchanging a quick, worried glance with Stacie.

Before either woman could speak up, Hibbert announced, “Wells and I are coming, too.” He flourished his weapon.

“Definitely.” Wells produced the pistol Hibbert had provided him. “This isn't a question of honor, my lord,” he advised Royce. “The viscount could be any­where. The grounds are vast. And I know them better than anyone.”

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like