by Laura Landon
“It is you!”
“Oh, Raeborn. Surely you can think of someone else who can’t let you or your heir live.”
Blood thundered inside Vincent’s head. His chest ached as he struggled to breathe. What if Fentington was telling the truth?
“Think, Your Grace. Who is the only person who would benefit from your death? The only person who will lose everything once your heir is born. If the child is a boy?”
Vincent shook his head.
Fentington paced the floor, then stopped beside Parker’s body. “How did you learn about Mr. Parker’s talents, Your Grace?”
Fentington laughed. “Let me guess. I’ll wager your cousin, Mr. Germaine, suggested him. Am I correct?”
Vincent swiped at the perspiration streaming down his face.
Fentington looked around the room. “Where is your cousin? He seems to be missing.”
Vincent swallowed hard. “He went for help. To get Wedgewood and Carmody, in case I needed them.”
“They should be here by now. Don’t you think?”
Vincent’s knees weakened beneath him.
Fentington pointed to the door. “Go ahead. Look. They’ve had more than enough time to arrive. Do you see them?”
Vincent didn’t go to the door. He knew he wouldn’t see them. Knew Fentington was telling the truth. That his cousin was the one who’d tried to kill him. That if Germaine wanted the Raeborn title and wealth, he would have to make sure Grace died before she could present him with an heir.
The blood drained from his head. Nothing had prepared him for the debilitating fear he felt thinking that Grace might be in danger—that he might lose her.
Vincent looked into Fentington’s face and knew beyond a doubt who wanted him dead. His heart fell like a rock to the pit of his stomach.
Fentington shook his head. “I thought I wanted you dead—but I don’t. I thought I wanted her to suffer for making a fool of me, but I don’t.” He paced the room, then stopped. “I visited my sister,” he said, facing Vincent. “She made me realize how unbalanced our father was. Then she made me see how closely I resembled him. The comparison made me sick. I don’t want to be anything like him. I’ve already done enough damage.”
Fentington held out his pistol for Vincent to take. “You’d best hurry. He can’t afford to let her live.”
“Thank you,” Vincent said as he grabbed Fentington’s gun and ran from the house. His lungs burned, the breath froze in his chest. What if he was already too late?
Chapter 21
Grace didn’t know why, but an uneasy feeling gripped her and refused to let go. “How did you get in here? Why didn’t Carver announce you?”
Vincent’s cousin stood, then walked the length of the room, his footsteps slow and cautious. “I’m afraid he didn’t hear my knock, so I took the liberty of letting myself in. I hope you don’t mind?”
Grace knew there had been no knock. Just as she knew that whatever reason Vincent’s cousin had for being here was not good. “I think I prefer to be alone, Mr. Germaine. I’ll ring for Carver to show you—”
He held up his hand to stop her from rising. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to do that.”
She took a closer look at him. His handsome face was tinged with hard lines she hadn’t noticed before; the look in his eyes had turned cold and dangerous. Her pulse raced. “Why are you here?”
The smile he gave her sent shivers down her spine.
“To stay with you while your husband takes care of the evil, sinister Baron Fentington. Of course, Raeborn thinks I’ve gone for help. To get the authorities and Wedgewood and Carmody. He’ll discover soon enough I haven’t.”
Grace stood, then took one step away from him, but Kevin Germaine reached out his hand and grabbed her upper arm to stop her from getting too far from him. Fear raced through her as she looked at his hand squeezing her arm painfully.
“I want you to leave, Mr. Germaine.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Your Grace. Not until I’ve accomplished what I came to do.”
“And that is?”
“Why, kill you, of course.”
Grace stumbled backward. Full terror gripped every part of her body when she looked at him. He was serious.
Grace twisted to the side and his fingers lost their grip. Her arm burned where he’d held her. “Get out! Car—”
He pulled a gun out of his pocket and held it where she could see it. “If you don’t want to see Carver die in front of you, I suggest you keep quiet, Your Grace.”
Grace took several deep breaths, then nodded that she understood.
“Very good.” Germaine dropped his hand and looked at the tea service still sitting on the table. “It’s regrettable we don’t have time for a cup of tea. It would be enjoyable to sit here and visit a while before you suffer your unfortunate accident.”
Grace clutched her stomach as another pain shot through her. She wished they would ease. If only she could lie down for a few minutes, she was sure they would. “Why are you doing this?”
He walked to a small table with three crystal decanters on it and poured a little brandy into a glass. “The money, of course. All of Raeborn’s money. The money that should have come to me, but now will go to...” Germaine drew the back of his hand over his mouth and pointed to Grace’s stomach. Her hands instinctively reached out to protect her babe.
He laughed. “I was so sure he would never take another wife. I didn’t even see it coming until it was too late.” He emptied his glass and glared at her. “How did you do it? You obviously spread your legs for him long before you married. You must have realized getting his child in you was the only way you could force him to marry you. I just can’t believe he was such a fool he didn’t realize what you were doing.”
Grace felt her cheeks burn.
“Oh well, it doesn’t matter now. Your accident will solve my problems.”
“Surely money isn’t worth killing an innocent babe?”
“Isn’t worth it! Bloody hell, woman. Do you know how much wealth is involved? Enough to keep me in style for ten lifetimes.”
Germaine held the gun on her with one hand and sloshed more brandy into his glass with the other. “Instead, your bastard husband has condemned me to the life of a country farmer. Told me if I managed the pittance he gave me well enough, I’d have more than enough on which to live.”
Grace watched Germaine’s face turn a mottled red, his features distort in anger.
“What kind of a fool does he think I am? How does he think I can exist on the measly quarterly allowance I’ve been allotted? That pitiful amount isn’t substantial enough to support me for one week of the life I am accustomed to living. And what’s even more astonishing is that he honestly believes he’s being generous!”
“Perhaps if you talk to him he’ll—”
Germaine slashed his hand through the air. “I want it all! It should have been mine. It could have been. Except that Raeborn’s father was born just minutes before mine.”
“But it still won’t be yours,” Grace argued. “Even with me dead, the money is still Raeborn’s.”
“I’m counting on Fentington to solve that problem for me. With Mr. Parker’s help, of course.” He took another sip and smiled. “You are probably a widow already, Your Grace. It is highly unlikely Raeborn will survive his confrontation with Baron Fentington. But then...” He laughed. “I swear your husband has as many lives as the proverbial cat. But this time I’ve taken care of things myself. If Fentington doesn’t rid the world of your husband, Parker will.”
Grace felt light-headed. “It was you?” she whispered as if she couldn’t believe what her mind was telling her. “You tried to kill Vincent?”
“I only regret I didn’t get the job done before he married you. Then it wouldn’t be necessary for me to kill you, too. But...” He shrugged his shoulders.
Grace saw the evil determination in his eyes and knew words would do no good. There was no way she could talk him
out of killing her. She slowly edged her way to Vincent’s desk.
She knew the gun Vincent kept in the drawer was no longer there, but perhaps there was a knife of some sort. Anything she could use to protect herself.
She tried to stall him. “You won’t get away with this. Vincent will know it was you.”
Germaine smiled and walked the length of the room. “No, he won’t. He won’t even suspect me. Even if he somehow escapes Parker, the shock of finding you and his heir dead will put him in a state of depression. He loves you, you know? I’m not sure if he loved either of his other wives, but anyone who sees the two of you together knows he loves you. It’s a shame, really.” He slowly sipped his brandy. “For Raeborn to finally have it all and lose it.”
Grace slowly opened one drawer just a crack and glanced down. Nothing. Then another. Kevin continued as if lost in his reverie. Lost in the delusion of his perfectly laid plan.
“No one will even question it when he’s found with a bullet to his head. Perhaps Fentington will get credit for Raeborn’s death.”
Grace placed her hand on the papers strewn on the top of the desk. Perhaps beneath one of them...
Her hand closed over a letter opener.
“I couldn’t believe my stroke of good luck when Raeborn assumed Fentington was the guilty party.” A smile brightened Germaine’s face. “He didn’t suspect me for a moment, did he?”
Grace jerked her head up. “No. Not for a moment.”
A frown covered Germaine’s face. “Enough! We’ve wasted enough time. Come with me, Your Grace. I’d like for us to take a stroll in the garden. I seem to remember a lovely pond somewhere near the center. In my youth, I was always warned to be careful and not get too close to the edge. The water’s quite deep, you know.”
Grace clasped her hand around the letter opener just as another pain ripped through her body. She couldn’t hide it. She leaned heavily against the desk and gasped for breath.
Germaine’s eyes opened wide. She saw his first sign of nervousness. “I see I am almost too late,” he said, wiping a sheen of perspiration from his forehead. “You and Raeborn would have really shocked society with an arrival this early.”
“Please,” Grace begged, holding her breath until the pain eased. “It’s not too late. If you leave now, I promise I’ll—”
“No! There cannot be an heir. That babe you are carrying will inherit everything, and I’ll have nothing again. Nothing! Just like I’ve had my whole life. Always left to beg for the money I need to live. I deserve it. I’ve always deserved it. And I’ll not let a babe steal it from me.”
Grace stared at him. Bitter hatred tinged every word, vile jealousy shot from his glare. He truly hated Vincent. Why hadn’t she seen it before? Germaine’s greed was a living, breathing cancer destroying his mind, body, and soul. His loathing was so intense he actually believed the Raeborn title and wealth belonged to him.
Germaine held out his hand. “Why don’t we take that walk, Your Grace. If anyone asks, you can tell them you need some fresh air. I am merely accompanying you.”
Grace shook her head.
“Now!” he bellowed, lifting the gun in his hand and taking a step toward her.
Grace grabbed the letter opener and tucked it into the folds of her skirt. She’d wait until they were out of the room before trying to make her escape. Surely Carver would hear her and help, or one of the gardeners or footmen?
She stumbled as he pulled her toward the terrace doors, his grip on her arm biting into her flesh. Then another pain overtook her, this one so severe she doubled over from the strength of it.
Grace clutched her hand to her stomach as her first cry echoed in the room.
Oh, the pain. This couldn’t be happening. It wasn’t time. She couldn’t have her babe yet. Not for at least four more weeks.
Another spasm gripped her, and she knew.
So did Germaine. The panic on his face terrified her. “Move! You’ll not have his babe!” He jerked her arm and dragged her across the room. When they reached the French doors, he pushed them open and pulled her onto the terrace.
She knew if she had any hope of escaping, she’d have to do it before the next pain came. They were already too severe. And too close. Another warning that something was not right. A warning that the babe she’d promised Vincent would be birthed without problems was going to turn her into a liar.
“If you’d be so kind as to hurry, Your Grace,” he said, his grip on her arm tightening.
“Please, Kevin.”
“Don’t waste your breath, Your Grace. It won’t do you any good. It’s much too late to change what’s about to happen.”
A frightening chill shattered her self-control. He seemed so calm, his voice terrifyingly pleasant, the serene expression on his face frigid. When he looked at her, the malevolent glare in his eyes told her he would not hesitate to kill both her and the unborn babe she carried. And Vincent later, if Fentington and Parker didn’t do it for him.
Grace crossed the terrace and stopped at the steps. She held on to the cement railing with her left hand and the letter opener with the right, waiting for the opportunity to use it to escape. From her precarious foothold on the steps, she knew her best advantage would be when she reached the bottom.
She took the first step, then the second, planning her every move, anticipating any problem.
Grace tightened her grip around the handle of the letter opener, turning it so that when she brought it down, she would have the leverage she needed to do the most harm. She took her last step and stopped.
“Is something wrong, Your Grace?”
Grace turned her head to look into Carver’s worried face. The butler walked across the terrace, his protective determination propelling him into danger.
“Is everything all right, Your Grace? Would you like me to send for Alice?”
“I...uh. No, Carver. I was just...”
Carver didn’t stop but continued toward them.
Germaine’s fingers clasped around the arm she had anchored on the railing and squeezed. The air caught in her breast, and a terrorizing fear as powerful as a raging thunderstorm shot through her. She prayed Carver would stop. Prayed he’d leave before—
“Please, allow me to escort Her Grace, Mr. Germaine,” Carver said. “I’m afraid I didn’t hear you knock or—”
Without warning, Germaine turned and fired his gun. Grace screamed, then watched the expression on Carver’s face turn from surprise to disbelief before he slumped to the stone terrace. Blood darkened the front of his pristine white shirt and he lay motionless.
“Carver! No!”
Grace reacted with uncontrollable fury. She raised the letter opener and spun around. A picture of Carver’s injured body flashed through her mind as she lifted her arm and brought it down with all the force she could manage.
Germaine didn’t anticipate her attack, and by the time he reacted it was too late.
Grace sank her weapon into him as far as she could push it. Cloth ripped, skin tore, and she felt the grind of metal penetrating muscle.
Germaine bolted, then stared at the pointed opener sticking out of his shoulder. He flashed her a look of disbelief before he pulled it out of his shoulder, then yanked her down the path, through a flower bed to the pond’s edge. Nothing would save her if he pushed her in.
She struggled, but the pains robbed her of any strength to fight him.
She was going to die without ever seeing Vincent again. Was going to die before she held her babe in her arms. Was going to die before she saw the look on Vincent’s face when he saw his son for the first time.
Another white-hot stab of pain speared through her and she lost the little strength she had left.
She fought to stop the scream but couldn’t. The pain was too great. One clutching grip after another reached deep inside her and blocked out all sense of reality. She couldn’t fight both Germaine and the pain any longer.
She clutched her stomach and cradled the child
that would never be born.
Chapter 22
No!
Vincent sped onto the terrace as Grace’s pain-filled scream rent the air. He raced past the spot where Carver lay on the stones and ran toward Grace’s cry for help. Every breath of air left his body when he saw his cousin pulling his wife toward the water’s edge.
“Germaine!”
Germaine spun around, jerking Grace closer to the pond. Vincent knew with just a push she’d fall into the water.
“Let her go!”
Vincent raced toward Grace.
“Stop right there!” Germaine ordered, pulling Grace in front of him to use her as a shield. “Don’t take another step or I’ll push her.”
Vincent raised his hands in surrender and stared at the agony in Grace’s eyes. There was a pleading in her gaze that wrenched his heart from his chest. “It’s over, Germaine. You can have it all. The money. The estates. Everything. Just let her go.”
Germaine laughed. “How generous of you, Raeborn. Now that it’s too late.”
“No. It’s not too late. I’ll have my solicitor sign everything over to you. It will all be yours. Everything. Just let Grace go.”
Germaine glared at him, the demented look on his face so hate-filled it sent shivers down Vincent’s spine.
“Let her go? And then what? You will just forgive and forget this little misunderstanding?” Germaine laughed, but there was an unnatural sound to his laughter. “You still don’t understand, do you? Your wife will not live, Your Grace. And neither will you.”
Germaine tightened his grasp and brought Grace closer to the water.
She was losing her foothold on the loose dirt near the edge, and clods of earth fell into the pond with a dangerous splash.
A malicious grin changed Germaine’s features with each spatter, and he raised his right hand and pointed his gun at Vincent’s chest. Vincent knew he was going to die. Grace must have known it too.
With a tortured cry, she turned sharply and hit Germaine’s wounded shoulder.
He cried out in pain and lifted his uninjured arm. His hand connected with Grace’s cheek and her head snapped back from the force of the blow. Vincent saw red. White-hot fury erupted inside him.