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“Sir Philip Wendover paid me,” the man said, looking up at St. Erth and feeling his split lip.

Papa!

“Do you have any proof?” my husband asked harshly, and Mr. Pemberfield reached into his pocket and handed a tattered letter over, his blood smearing it.

St. Erth took it and read it, his eyes scanning the contents quickly. He then folded the letter and put it in his pocket.

“I have no loyalty,” the other man ground out as St. Erth bent down to squat at his level. “I’ll go wherever I get paid.”

“I can see that,” St. Erth said dryly, and I saw his arm reach back and suddenly something flashed in the light of the moon.

I opened my mouth but no sound came out of my dry throat.

Then St. Erth struck with his knife like the vicious serpent he was, and Mr. Pemberfield looked up, his big face covered with shock.

“Your death was assured when you touched my wife,” the Viscount said, and his voice was like the grave.

The other man slumped forward and my husband cocked his head unemotionally as Mr. Pemberfield expired with a gurgle beside the Martins’ fountain. Then he stood to his full height and turned to look at me.

My arms were trembling uncontrollably.

“Don’t worry,” St. Erth said. “He’s dead.”

But it wasn’t this clumsy crude assailant that made me afraid. It was my own husband.

What would he do to Papa?

Could Papa really have done this? Tried to kill my own husband?

I felt anger spark through my veins. They had forced me to marry the Viscount because of their own greed and now they regretted it!

Well, it was too godsdamn late.

What else was a lie?

St. Erth was now scanning the area where the carriages were and I heard him make a low series of notes, a whistle, and in a few moments Gilly appeared.

“Go get Liversedge,” St. Erth ordered. “He’s probably smoking with the others by the carriage-house.”

“Your relatives are nothing but trouble,” he said as Gilly scuttled off.

“Surely, even Papa—“ I said, then stopped, dropping my eyes.

There was no use pretending.

St. Erth still looked dissatisfied, and he kicked the dead body of Mr. Pemberfield with his toe.

For a moment the breath caught in my chest.

Was he mad at me because my father had hired this assailant to pick a fight with him?

Would he make me go back to my parents’ home?

But suddenly St. Erth knelt down and flicked out his knife. Then he drew the wickedly sharp blade down Mr. Pemberfield’s body, splitting his chest open so that his entrails all spilled out on the ground.

I gasped and my husband raised his eyes up to me. They were glinting, shining in the moonlight with a dark rage.

“I killed him too quickly. I’m sorry, Kitten. I should have known the messenger was just a distraction.”