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“Justice for what? For I am guilty of nothing but poor judgment when it comes to my selection of a wife. Fear not. I know you are eager to make her yours. You shall have her. Of course, I shall demand payment of the entirety of her family’s debt, along with the dowry I was promised in the form of Sedgwick Manor, and compensation for my troubles.”
“Sedgwick Manor?” The wobble in Bridget’s voice told Graham she had not known that part of the plan.
“Yes, your mother agreed to give me the manor in place of a dowry, seeing how you cannot afford one. I was going to let her stay out of the goodness of my heart, but since you have forsaken me, I shall have to sell it to get my due,” he grinned, making Graham’s blood boil.
“I dare say it will be difficult to try and make any demands when you are at Newgate Prison,” Graham said with a venom-infused voice. “The only negotiation you might undertake will be for an extra bit of butter with your hard bread.”
Bragg was struck by his words, hislips twitching. His mocking smile had given way to the rage that had been bubbling beneath the surface all along.
“I shan’t go to any prison, Your Grace. If anything, Lady Bridget will find herself fighting for scraps among the common criminals. After all, once I speak to the constable and tell him the truth—that I saw Lady Bridget commit the crime she is trying to pass onto me, he will surely take her away. I am a Peer of the Realm, and my word counts more than any woman’s.”
“But not more than the word of a duke,” Graham replied. His voice was now deep and full of strength as his anger fueled his determination to end the man’s tyranny. “And I heard you confess to Lady Bridget. Besides, your other misdeeds have already been uncovered. It is time to face reality, Lord Bragg. Your vicious duplicity is exposed. You will not see another day of freedom.”
Bragg's nostrils flared, and his smile faded as his eyes darkened. He realized Graham meant every word—he'd beenexposed and had nowhere to hide.
Graham moved closer to the door, ready to summon the constable. Hastings had noticed a horse tied to a fence behind the house, and Graham had immediately recognized it as Bragg's.
The dowager had fortunately exited the house at that precise moment, accompanied by Esther, her maid, and had been whisked away to one of the cottages by two of the constable’s aides. It relieved Graham greatly yet, he would be even more relieved when he heard Hastings’ footsteps coming down the hall.
“Where do you think you are going, Your Highness?” Bragg said mockingly.
Graham spun around but, alas, he gasped the moment his gaze was drawn to the scene in front of him. With one hand, Bragg drew a pistol from beneath his morning coat and wrapped his free arm around Bridget's neck.
“Graham,” she called, and he hurried forward, but the noise of the hammer being pulled back stopped him.
“If you truly care for her, I would advise you to not take a step further.Graham,” Bragg said, taunting him further. Graham had no choice; he stood frozen to the spot, his eyes darting from his beloved Bridget to Bragg and back again.
“Let her go. The constable is here, his men are swarming the entire estate. You will never get away,” he snapped.
“Oh, I know I will not get away on my own. That is why my darling bride will accompany me. Won’t you, my sweet?” He dropped his voice, whispering into Bridget’s ear just loud enough for Graham could hear.
Graham's stomach tightened, and he cursed himself for forgetting to bring his pistol in his haste to get to the village.
Hastings and several of the men were armed, yet hehad nothing but his wits and fists—neither of which would serve him well in the circumstances. Bragg grabbed Bridget's hair with his left hand and yanked her head back, pointing the pistol at her head with his right. They were standing with their backs to the window, and even if Graham had managed to rush to him, he would never have reached him before he shot her.
Graham's fingers twitched as he realized he was powerless.
“How far do you think we’d get, Oliver?” Bridget said, her voice strained from the force Bragg was exacting on her neck.
“Far enough to ensure I am out of reach,” he replied. “Make no mistake, I know what I am doing. I have always been three steps ahead of you, and nothing has changed.”
“Is that so? There is nowhere you can run, Bragg,” Graham shouted. “You are already wanted for the murder of my sister. All this shall only worsen your case.”
Bragg scoffed. “That is my concern. Not yours. Now, walk,” he waved the hand holding the gun, indicating the door.
Graham shuffled his feet, his gaze fixed on Bridget, realizing his best course of action was to do what Bragg wanted for the time being and wait for his chance to free her.
He nodded and turned to leave the dimly lit corridor.
“Not that way, fool. The servant staircase.”
Graham wincedbut obeyed the man. The heavy carpet swallowed his footsteps as he walked down the narrow hall. When helooked over his shoulder, he noticed the panic in Bridget'seyes.
Graham wanted nothing more than to free her, to take her away, but he'd allowed himself to be trapped. How could this be? This cannot be.
As they neared the staircase leading downstairs to the servant’s quarters, a memory swam to the forefront of his mind. He and Mary as children had often played hide and seek. They had been small, no more than ten years of age. He could still hear Mary’s laughter from the servant’s staircase. However, the voice of Esther, his mother’s maid, rang louder and clearer in his head, warning them not to hide in the washhouse.
Unlike most country homes, Foxglove Hall did not have a washhouse that stood apart from the manor home. Instead, theirs was contained within the home, directly opposite the servant’s entrance door. And it had two doors. One that allowed the servants entry from within the house, another that led them into the courtyard, where they could hang the washing. Could it be a path to freedom and Graham’s last chance of saving himself and Bridget?
