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The reality of the memory had her stumbling backwards in fear.

She wished to be away from him, but she turned too late to run.

With two quick strides, he caught her arm.

Though she recalled Maria saying they were going to a place bearing her father’s name, until this moment Emma had still not fully comprehended that the girl meant Mr. Palmer.

The shadows in the room shifted again, permitting the moonlight to pour over the harsh lines of his face. “Where is Maria?” he demanded.

“Dead,” Emma managed as she attempted to pull away from his grasp, but his fingers locked tighter about her wrist.

“If she is dead, so are you,” he growled.

“If I cannot know my daughter, neither may Lord Donoghue,” he said in a tone as if he was making polite conversation.

His manner of speaking made his words even more terrifying.

“Your continued interference has made it necessary. You must understand this is all your fault.”

“I did not kill her,” Emma pleaded. “It was Lord Davidson.”

“Yet, you did nothing to prevent her passing,” he declared.

“I was locked in the pantry,” Emma said lamely, while knowing full well this man would never understand.

“And now you are wearing her cape,” he accused. “Her mother sent it to her from Europe,” he said in sad tones.

Emma wished to say Lady Maria Donoghue was her mother also, but she could not argue with a man as deranged as had been his daughter. He reached up to tear away the toggle holding the cape in place. It quickly slid off Emma’s shoulders to be splayed across the floor.

He tugged Emma along behind him to locate Maria’s body. “My poor sweet child,” he lamented when he pulled away the cloth Emma had used to cover the girl only moments earlier. “She deserved a better ending.”

Dressed as a man of society, prepared to attend a concert or the theatre, Mr. Palmer turned to face her.

His face was as free of expression as a mask.

He appeared calm, while all Emma’s emotions were on display.

His face had been sculpted by moonlight into sharply defined lines that would have frightened even the bravest heart, which hers was not.

A thin lock of hair fell upon his forehead, causing him to frown deeply.

“How shall we proceed?” he asked as if she should decide how she would die.

“Shall I stage it to be a suicide, your grief at having killed your dear, sweet sister? Or are you brave enough not to scream, but rather fight, which can only make it all most unpleasant for you, but not for me? You will die no matter how much you scream and plead. That child on the floor was my life—my reason to live—now your reason to die.”

“You are not in your right mind,” Emma accused.

“Why should I be?” he countered. “For more years than you have lived, I dreamed of a woman above my station. I loved her and the child we sired together. A dream, not a nightmare. That is until Lord Simon Donoghue bargained for the woman meant to be my bride.”

“My father will give you enough money to go away,” Emma pleaded. “You may have the freedom and the power you always desired.”

Richard ordered Duncan’s driver to stop the carriage at the head of the road, where he and Duncan disembarked. “The cottage appears to be dark,” Richard said softly.

“Slow and easy,” Duncan cautioned. “You lead, for you are surer on your feet than I, but practice caution. Use your head, son, if you expect to save Lady Emma.”

Richard squeezed the man’s shoulder, realizing for the first time how Duncan was now shorter than him. “I am proud to have you beside me, sir.”

With a simple nod of their heads, they began to move steadily, but cautiously, along the road. The occasional dog barked, but no one else appeared to be about. It had to be well after midnight; yet, they were accustomed to late hours.

“The door to the cottage appears to be open,” Richard whispered close to Duncan’s ear when they came near enough to view the house.

“I will take the larger window on the right,” Duncan ordered in equally soft tones. “You take the two on the left.”

Richard nodded his understanding and darted along the road, bent over and using the hedgerow to conceal his presence.

When he was in place, he motioned Duncan forward.

Despite claiming not to be so sure-footed as in the past, Duncan reached the house easily before Richard, who had to vault over a fence and circled the well.

Even so, Duncan held out a hand to slow Richard’s approach.

Duncan cupped his ear to warn Richard to listen.

He slowed his heart and tuned his ears to the sound of voices within.

“You are not in your right mind.” Lady Emma’s voice announced she was still alive, and Richard presented God a quick prayer of thanksgiving.

“Why should I be?” a man countered. “For more years than you have lived, I dreamed of a woman above my station. I loved her and the child we sired together. A dream, not a nightmare. That is until Lord Simon Donoghue bargained for the woman meant to be my bride.”

“My father will give you enough money to go away,” Lady Emma pleaded. “You may have the freedom and the power you always desired.”

“You have been meddlesome from the beginning,” he declared.

“When we received word of your arrival, I thought to keep Maria near, just as she had always been—permit her to be your playmate and to learn along with you at your governess’s hands, but your mother wrote to say Lord Donoghue had learned of our relationship, and it would be best if I sent my child away.

I changed my name to ‘Palmer’ as a symbol of my loyalty to my child, for such is where she would reside.

We thought if I could find the yellow sapphires meant for Maria, we could go away together, but no matter how much I searched the house, they remained elusive. ”

“The numerous repairs to the walls and flooring,” Lady Emma said in realization. “You said it was dry rot, for the house had stood empty for so long. Did you think I had hidden them in the house? My mother has never lived there.”

Meanwhile, Duncan gestured that Richard was to take the shot when Emma was no longer in the way.

“You were also so gullible, so needy for attention. I could have torn the house down completely, and you would never have questioned one decision.”

“My mother had put you in charge of the house,” Lady Emma said in apparent realization of the obvious.

“Yes, she did, and I have accumulated enough—a hundred pounds here and ten pounds there for my pockets to be deep. My child and I were going away tonight, but Maria desperately wanted the sapphires, enough so to accost you last week. Her mother had promised them to her. Now, I have no daughter and no wife. I believe Lord Donoghue deserves the same.” He sighed heavily.

“Let us take a walk together a little further along the road, away from the houses. You lead, Lady Emma.”

Richard motioned for Duncan to catch Emma.

Nothing else was said. Richard placed himself between Emma and the man set on killing her.

When Emma exited the open door and quickly disappeared as Duncan snatched her to his side, Richard replaced her.

A streak of orange light filled the cottage’s darkness as the bullet cleared his gun.

He watched as “Palmer,” or, Richard supposed “Babbington,” threw up his arm to protect himself, opening his chest wider to serve as Richard’s target.

The whites of the man’s eyes grew larger in disbelief.

His scream died in the empty room as he collapsed on his back.

Richard remained in place until Emma threw her arms about his neck. “Richard! Richard!” she pleaded.

“I am fine, love. Fine, at last.”

It took most of the night to assure the local authorities of what had occurred in the simple cottage in a place called “Palmer’s” after the twelve almshouses. The scene in the cottage was far removed from charity of any sort.

“Although I did not see him,” Lady Emma said, for likely the twentieth time, “Miss Babbington called her attacker ‘Lord Davidson’ while they argued.”

Finally, the sheriff called in to oversee the investigation accepted Lady Emma’s version, for not only was the man aware of Duncan’s position in society, but an express had arrived from Lord Graham, which pressed authenticity to Lady Emma’s tale.

His lordship and Lord Marksman, having found Mr. Palmer missing from Donoghue House, had set out to assist Richard and Duncan.

“ Ironically ,” Graham had written, “ at a toll gate, we encountered Lord Davidson’s coach returning to London.

Thinking it odd, we detained his lordship until we learned why he was so disheveled and scratched up.

Lord Davidson finally admitted he had gone to Palmer’s to stop Lady Emma from accusing him of her attack in Covent Garden.

We naturally have returned him to Middlesex until we learn otherwise.

Beaufort sent word he was on his way to your destination . ”

Graham’s message and Navan Beaufort’s appearance was enough to convince everyone that their tale was the accurate one.

With the dawn of a new day, Richard, Emma, and Duncan crawled into Duncan’s coach and set out for London.

They were talked out. Exhausted. In truth, Richard simply leaned against the side of the coach with one leg on the seat and the other to brace his position while Lady Emma laid out across him.

He wrapped his arms about her. Duncan raised an eyebrow of objection, but no reprimand was delivered.

Duncan, too, closed his eyes, and they all slept for the few hours it took to return to Duncan Place.

Theodora greeted them at the door and took over Lady Emma’s care. “You sweet dear. You will stay with us indefinitely, until all this is resolved. I closed down Donoghue House to visitors of any kind until you are prepared to address the staff.”

Lady Emma shook her head in agreement, but Richard knew she was too exhausted to comprehend fully what Theodora had explained.

“We all simply require our rest, my dear,” Duncan said. “As do you, child,” he told his daughter. “You have dark circles under your beautiful eyes. Why do you not share a bed with Lady Emma?”

“Yes, Papa. Come, Emma, we will use my quarters.”

“I was not thinking of sleeping beside Emma,” Richard said when the ladies disappeared up the stairs.

“Yes, you were,” Duncan corrected, “but only after the exchange of vows. Later, I will write to Lord Donoghue and advise him of all which has been exacted in his name. You may attach your intentions to marry the man’s daughter in the post. I know you wish the exchange of vows would take place tomorrow, but by then, all of London will be buzzing about the disaster.

A hurried marriage will only complicate the rumor, and your children will pay the price.

You understand what such would mean to their futures as well as any of us. ”

Richard sighed heavily. “I despise deportment and society’s rules!”

“Yet, you will follow them,” Duncan said pointedly.

“Yes, sir.”