The longer Rother realized what I’d been up to, the less composed he became. “This is ludicrous. Gabriel wouldn’t have betrayed me to help you.”
“He would if I threatened to expose him. You said it yourself. His kind don’t do well in prison. Once I told him I had the pictograph, it didn’t take much coaxing. He’s a coward.”
“And you turned him in anyway.”
I stared at Rother as if he was stupid. “You can’t leave a man like that running around free. If he slips and harms one innocent, we’d be at fault.”
“That was awfully ruthless for a clueless waif such as yourself.”
“You taught me everything I know. All I did was steal your idea. Ruin Avaston. Crush him financially and strip him of everything. Remove his threat. I just replaced Avaston with you.
“Gabriel drew up all the legal forms and Chief Magistrate Saux confirmed the transfer of all your holdings before Avaston had him killed. I hadn’t expected to lose his help. It slowed me down.”
“All my holdings?”
“Bank accounts, property, etcetera. All your assets. You own nothing. Everything here: the house, the business, the grounds are now exclusively in my name. I own it all.”
Blythe’s whisper was laced in awe. “Holy shit.”
Rother was less impressed. In fact, he was near foaming. “You forged my signature?”
“It wasn’t hard. If anyone noticed, they hated you enough not to care.”
“I’ll have that undone by morning.”
“I don’t see how. Everything is already on file at the registry.” I pointed at the pile of letters. “Those are just my copies.”
And the kindling began to catch.
Rother’s defensive pace halted in the doorway. Standing tall, he adopted an air of dominance Alexandra would find worthy. It might have even impressed my father.
“I’ve had enough of this ridiculous nonsense.” Rother waved back to the bedroom, then pointed at each of us in turn. “Once you dispose of the dead morons, you’ll go back to doing your job and you’ll be a subservient husband once again or I’ll be forced to make Blythe’s past public knowledge.”
He uttered his commands with the attitude of a military captain, but I was no soldier. “No, you won’t.”
“You doubt me?”
“When Harston defied you, you threatened his life and forced me to fire him. Blythe beds your husband and you let him keep his job as long as he toes the line? Who’s lying now? I can’t believe I didn’t realize it before tonight. You won’t do anything because you can’t. If anyone catches the slightest hint that Blythe escaped his former sentence, the next thing anyone will ask is how. Blythe is a fixture at Delaga House. It’s only a matter of time before they figure out you helped him escape. I don’t see you willing to put yourself in prison for the rest of your life out of spite.”
A subtle curve arched Rother’s brow as he peered down his nose at me. “Are you sure about that?”
In the past, the obvious challenge would have ended the debate. Now I saw it as the bluff it truly was.
“Completely. You suspected and insinuated Blythe’s indecent actions for a while and have done nothing but terrorize me. Not him. Me. The easier one, you coward. The funny part is figuring out how to protect him was the last piece of the puzzle. Well… next to the last.”
“What are you going on about? Explain yourself.”
My chest grew tight as I gathered my nerve. “You should have read my letters, Rother. The last one was a confirmation decree ratified by Addledale himself. It’s all nice and official.” The final move. “We’re divorced.”
Blythe was stunned. “You are?”
“No, no, no.” Rother shook his hand and head in frantic denial. “You’re too attached to your Deilian morals to follow through with anything so shameful.”
“You’ve done a great deal to help me shed my former country. Being married to you is far worse than failing my wedding vows. Consider yourself an amazing inspiration.”
I cringed. In a large way, Rother was correct. Dissolving one’s marriage was a black mark of weak constitution no noble-born man in Deilia would bear. A spouse’s death was preferable. I’d been left with no choice because killing another man was beyond me, even if they deserved it.
“And while this plan of yours was in motion, you still laid with me. More than once. Scheming whore.”
The tightness coiled, seizing my lungs so my words became raspy in guilt as I fought to hold on to my reasons. “I wasn’t looking to give you any more reason to beat, burn, or rape me.”
“You enjoyed yourself.”
“When I pretended you were Blythe, I did. It made it much, much easier.”
“Yeah. Suck on that, boss.” Blythe’s knuckles were white, belying the jovial taunt.
“I couldn’t bathe myself fast enough when you were done.”
The mood resembled a violin’s sharp note. Tense and piercing, slicing into your soul in one endless vibration. Rother and Blythe seethed, holding the barest restraint, each of them too intent on someone else’s reaction. Rother on Blythe’s, Blythe on mine.
Rother’s self-control slipped first. “I don’t believe you for an instant. For any of it! Gabriel and Saux would have never agreed to this!”
“When your loyalty is built on blackmail, you’d be surprised how little it takes to topple it. Saux especially was only too eager to help me. You may still have men at your heel, but with Saux gone and Worthingfield tied up in dismantling Avaston’s mob, you have no one to enforce your hold on me. And now that your business is mine and you’re penniless, I imagine most people won’t spend a great deal of time listening to you.”
Blythe stood close, his frame a fully wound clockwork spring. The faint tremor shaking every joint gave away his need to explode, but he stayed his hand, allowing me to deal with Rother myself. I accepted the strength he offered, because mine was sick.
My ex-husband’s rant was far from over. “Sitting back, judging me all this time, claiming I do such awful things to you. As soon as my back is turned, you have no problem betraying me as badly as you can imagine. You’re no better than I am. Whiny little self-righteous bastard.”
“Oy! Cap that shit!”
My hand on Blythe’s sleeve stopped his half step forward. “He’s right, Blythe. I’m not better than him. I’ve struggled with this since I started. More than once I almost stopped.”
“You didn’t struggle nearly hard enough.”
Rother’s snide remark struck a chord in me. The guilt constricted me further, making my chest pump in short, staccato bursts. Grains of truth swirled inside the maelstrom of his vitriol, pelting me, scoring my armor with scars of regret.
“Perhaps. It was a bit hypocritical of me. More than once I almost ended my plan. Avaston kept pushing and you became more and more unstable. I knew he kept threatening everything you’d built, and I felt guilty for what I was doing. You could lose your entire life’s work, and at times I felt sorry for you.”
Still holding on to Blythe, I twisted the fabric into my fist.
“But then I remembered. When I ran away, you sent Blythe after me. You pretended to care then chained me down and branded me like chattel to punish me and show me my place. You reminded me how you had people who would bring me back if I ever dared to leave again. You exposed my father’s secrets to me to instigate a quarrel and later forced me to fire Harston so I would have no one to count on but you.
“I admit for a short time, you were good to me. But that was only to prevent more of your employees from running off and harming Delaga House.”
I could hear my heartbeat ramming my chest, surging my head and neck full of poisonous heat. Safe in my head, reiterating my life with Rother was easy. Facing all the injustice and voicing my thoughts to the man responsible shredded me to the core.
Hot tears washed down my cheeks as I forced my words out. “When David nearly killed me, not one word of concern came across your lips. Not one. A
ll I received was your rage over Avaston slighting you.” A sad noise came out of me: half sob, half laugh. “As if somehow you’d been assaulted in the safety of your home. In front of Alvus Martinique and his workers, you accosted me. I believe if there hadn’t been an audience, you would have beaten me bloody, because I was an easy target. The longer we stayed together, the more you showed me how little value I held and how I would never be safe in your house. We were far past you simply having a bad day. My life was at risk the longer I stayed.”
Rother stayed silent, his face as furious as before. If my words affected him, it didn’t matter. The searing confession affected me enough for us both. Without a vicar to absolve me, I would have to forgive myself, and I had good reason for needing forgiveness.
“It wasn’t enough to escape. As long as you had means, you would have come after me. I had no choice but to follow through, no matter how much I hated myself over it.”
“Yet somehow you found the strength.” Rother scoffed while sitting on the edge of rage.
“I had to save myself.”
Blythe reached out and pried my hand from his sleeve. Opening my fingers, he wrapped my hand in his, giving it a supportive squeeze. The weight in my chest lightened knowing I wouldn’t face this alone for a moment longer. Now I understood why Blythe waited. Why he held back when my every instinct read his desire to pummel Rother.
If I never confronted Rother, I would stay the scared young man he burned, who resorted to questionable things to win the game. I had to do this—with his support—and the act was mine to perform.
Rother couldn’t ignore our clasped hands. “And I suppose running off with the help was all part of your plan?”
“Finding Blythe was never the goal. It was unintentional, but I don’t regret it for one second.”
“You’re choosing him over me?”
I squeezed Blythe’s hand back. “No. I’m choosing myself over you. And for the first time, that feels like the right choice. Blythe is just the spoils of the deal.”
“You can’t expect me to sit here and let you ruin me.”
“Like us, it’s already done. Accept it.”
“I will not allow you of all people—”
“Rother, get out of my house.”
“Time to get the fuck out, boss.” Blythe’s menace was all pleasure. He’d waited long enough. Two steps of his heavy boots were all he needed to close the gap between them. Rother produced a revolver from under his jacket before it could happen, aiming it at Blythe’s forehead.
“Get away from me, you retarded fuck.”
Hands raised in front of him, Blythe stepped backward with a careful eye on Rother’s gun. Rother gestured with the pistol in angry twitches, demanding Blythe’s retreat, only stopping when Blythe was once again out of reach. Wildness charged Rother into a level of mania I’d never witnessed as he aimed the gun barrel back and forth, unable to choose a target. Far too much of the white in his eyes was visible. Disdain painted his face, as if our audacity was too much to bear. Even speaking, his volume edged on madness.
“Now, you two will clean up this mess and put everything back to normal. You will learn your place and unmake all this nonsense, you ungrateful shit.”
Rother’s state and weapon should have undone me. Never had he been more dangerous to me as in this standoff. I should have been flooded with terror. But something had changed. I’d worked so hard, endured and suffered too much to lose like this. My fear welled inside and dredged up all my indignation and fury, smothering it out. I refused to be bullied and abused anymore.
Whether smart or idiotic, I stepped around Blythe and unleashed my new venom at Rother. “Ungrateful? You self-absorbed—”
“I dragged you out of a life that was suffocating you.” Rother’s pistol was steady and pointed at me.
“You purchased me like one of your whores!”
“From your father, who was only too willing. I made your life worth living.”
“As your slave! You scarred me like an animal!”
“You lacked discipline. You’ll learn it again.” Blythe inched forward, but Rother noticed and whirled on him. “Get back, Blythe, or I’ll paint the wall with your brains. What’s one more corpse?”
“If you hurt him, I’ll fight you at every step.”
“Why would you do this to me? I loved you.” Deep chasms lined Rother’s face, marking his deranged confusion.
It did nothing to calm my new outrage.
“Are you insane? You don’t understand love. You understand lust. You built your life on it and used your knowledge of everyone else’s to your advantage. I have been nothing more than a prize to show off or sate yourself with when the mood struck. The only person you’ve ever loved was yourself. The best part of all this is that no matter what happens to me, you’ll never get Delaga House back because I’m not married to you anymore.”
He snapped the gun in Blythe’s direction and back to me again. “We were happy once. We will be again.”
“No. We. Will. Not. Any short-lived happiness we had was based off your narcissistic urges and my need to survive. You have nothing to offer. You are nothing. So you can take Alexandra’s giant black dildo and go fuck yourself! I would rather die than allow you to touch me again.”
Rother snarled and cocked the hammer back. “I accept.”
Blythe whirled, walling me into his arms. The room spun and I found him between me and Rother. His body jolted as two gunshots ripped the air, deadly marks of punctuation.
Chapter 28
BLYTHE’S ARMS relaxed and he slumped. I couldn’t keep his massive bulk from taking us to the floor.
A ton of dead weight crushed me, making it hard to breathe. I panicked enough to forget the real danger I was in, more concerned with Blythe’s welfare. Don’t cry, don’t cry. You’re useless if you cry.
“Blythe! Blythe!” With the lack of air, my shouts were more like whispers. I shook his unmovable shoulder, trying not to succumb to premature grief, but it was difficult. Don’t panic, don’t panic. If he was dead, I no longer cared what came next.
A sucking gasp swelled his chest, paired with an agonizing groan. The lyrical sound almost brought me to tears, but we were far from well.
“Blythe, I can’t breathe. Can you move so I can help you?”
His stilted, strangled words filled me with dread. “Ah…. Shit…. Y-yeah. Oh shit.”
I’d never been so impatient in my life. Blythe stiffened one arm and levered himself up, keening low through the effort. I scrambled to move myself out from under him. His arm gave as soon as I cleared.
Sudden perspiration saturated his clothing. A red bloom from a single hole stained his back below his shoulder blade. Rother had shot him.
Rother!
My head spun. Rother was sprawled facedown on the floor, the back of his head a wet, sticky mess. A sluggish pool of blood grew from under his face. No movement raised or lowered his torso. No spasms or flutters jostled his hands or feet. There was nothing.
Rother was dead.
In the doorway, dressed in her leather-strapped gown, Alexandra stood wielding Blythe’s confiscated pistol in her shaking hand. The one she said he couldn’t be trusted with. Translucent wisps of smoke curled upward from the muzzle. Black tears of diluted cosmetics trailed down her cheeks.
Two shots fired. One from Rother. One from Alexandra.
The world’s clock stopped ticking. Each gear sat frozen in time, unable and unwilling to move into the next second. Though her hand was unsteady, Alexandra continued to point the gun at Rother’s unmoving body, daring him to rise once more. The evening’s chaos refused to abate, smothering me into an ineffectual spectator. Get up! Do something! My hands and feet refused to obey as I watched Rother bleed out onto the expensive artisan tile.
A messy, stuttered inhale startled me back into real time. Blythe needed me. And I needed to rein in the madness.
I jumped up and made my way to Alexandra, thankful the en suite’s si
ze was ample enough for me to avoid disturbing the dead. Or look at him more than necessary. I didn’t trust his ability to cheat death, even with the fearsome damage to his skull, and if I started to be sick again, I would be useless. Alexandra’s unshakable facade was crumbling into jagged chunks. Every inch of her trembled. She and Rother had been together since the start. His money and her efforts had founded Delaga House, and now she’d ended him. Yes, he’d created rifts in their relationship, but some loyalties were beyond severing in full. I couldn’t begin to fathom her grief, but I couldn’t share it either.
The last thing I wanted was to scare her, so my touch to her arms was light, trying to bestow some kind of warmth to her. Once I closed my hand over her wrist, coaxing her to lower the gun, she finally noticed me. I didn’t know enough about the weapon to be sure there wasn’t more ammunition inside.
“I told him. I told him never again. He would never hurt you again. He swore to me. He swore.” Confusion and disbelief threaded through Alexandra’s confession as another dark trail stained her cheeks.
I slid my hand down hers and collected the gun. “Alexandra. You saved me. It’s all right.”
She didn’t resist, but returned her dazed stare back to Rother. Over and over, her painted lips uttered, “He swore.”
“Alexandra. I need your help. Alexandra, listen to me.”
Her voice sounded lost and broken. The chant kept the horror alive, trapping her in its clutches.
I didn’t have time for this. “Alexandra!”
Jarred awake, she saw me for real. Her eyes went wide as she took in my haggard condition. She clasped my head in her hands, searching for injuries.
“Dear god, Nathan, what did he do to you?”
I fought with her to stop touching me. She kept pressing on bruises to assess them. “Now’s not the time. I’ll be all right, I promise.” I caught her wrists and made her listen. “Rother shot Blythe. We need to find a doctor for him.”
“Yes. Yes, of course.”
Alexandra shook off more of her malaise and allowed me to guide her back to Blythe. We gave as wide a berth as possible to Rother.
Innocence and Carnality Page 37