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Dashing forward, Nathan ran up the stairs where Elijah’s cry had come from. He paused only for a moment when he saw a body at the top of the stairs, invisible from the first floor, before jumping over it and continuing on his way. He was fairly certain it belonged to the Camden’s butler, but he could not stop.
Not when others might need his help.
The Marquess’ study was ahead, the door ajar, and he could hear a woman sobbing from within.
Nathan burst through the door, only realizing his mistake when Elijah smoothly jumped to his feet from where he’d been kneeling, pointing a gun at Nathan.
“Bloody hell, Nathan! I could have shot you!”
“Your front door was ajar, and I heard a scream,” Nathan got out, panting for breath. His heart felt as if it was going to pound out of his chest as he took in the scene before him.
The Marquess’ office was familiar grounds to him, full of heavy furniture and decorated with a dark red Oriental carpet and burgundy drapes. The paintings on the walls were of the family, the Marquess and his late wife, and individual portraits of his sons and niece. Now, they seemed to stare down at the Marquess’ body, where it lay behind his desk, with the blonde kneeling next to him, her hands bloody as they pressed against his chest.
Not his body. He’s still alive.
“What happened?” His eyes darted around. There was another body, blood soaking the red carpet, off to the side, near the bookshelves.
“Assassin,” Elijah said succinctly, already kneeling again and undoing his cravat. He handed the fabric to Josie, who lifted her hands long enough to take it and wad it against the wound in the Marquess’ chest. Tears streamed down her face, but she didn’t hesitate, just pressed her blood-covered hands, ignoring the red smears across her mint green dress. “Just breathe, Father. Try to relax.”
More noise in the doorway made them turn. A footman was there, his face pale.
“Cooper, he… he…” the footman stuttered, his gaze affixed on the injured Marquess.Cooper. That was the name of the Camden’s butler. From the expression on the footman’s face, before he’d even seen the Marquess, the news was not good.
“Run for a doctor,” Elijah ordered. “As fast as you can. My father’s life depends on it.”
The footman dashed off.
“I cannot believe someone tried to kill him… if we had not been here… if we had left yesterday as we were supposed to…” Josie’s voice trailed off.
Bloody hell.
Clues began aligning themselves in Nathan’s brain, puzzle pieces coming together to create a clear picture.
A shooter in Hyde Park, exactly where Nathan usually rode his horse, at the exact time he had been riding for the past week.
An assassin in Camden House the morning after Elijah and Josie were supposed to have left. The morning after the Marquess’ other sonshadleft.
How coordinated were these attacks?
“Nathan?” Elijah’s confusion was clear as his voice followed Nathan out of the room.
“I need to check on Anthony,” Nathan tossed back over his shoulder, barely pausing. There was nothing he could do for the Marquess, Elijah could not, but if they were under attack…
He needed to find Anthony, who lived alone.
* * *
Lily
“There’s no need for further violence. Tell us what you want, and we’ll give it to you.” Though she wanted to sound strong, she knew her voice was shaking. How could it not? Her entirebodywas shaking. Chastity was beside her, hands pressed over her mouth, sobs wracking her body. It was so hard not to join her.
Though she could not see most of his face, something about the way his features changed at her words, around his eyes, made her think he was smiling.
“Very good, Miss. I want you.” The words knocked the breath from her lungs again, and Lily stared at him. His eyes narrowed, and he swung the gun to point at Chastity. “However, she is unnecessary.”
“Stop!” Lily threw herself across the carriage in front of her maid, whose sobs had abruptly stopped in sheer terror. The driver’s death weighed heavily enough on her conscience. If he killed Chastity… Fear for the other woman gave her an inward strength she might not have been able to find for herself.
Gulping as she stared at the gun, she did not know which was more frightening—the weapon or the cold gaze of the man holding it.
