Page 54 of The Blind Duke's Ward
“I have been lied to today. Including by your mistress, Miss Gemma Stamford. She promised that she would not leave without my consent. My most trusted servant has lied to me too. And both chose to deceive me because they believed it to be in my best interests. I will not have anyone else decide what my best interests are. You will tell the truth or you will be dismissed with immediate effect.”
“I am not a liar!” Charlotte said hotly, passionate enough to forget the honorific.
Nathan nodded. “Excellent. Do you know what happened to Gemma earlier today?”
“She wished to leave because she believed that she was putting you at risk. I begged her to let me go with her. She is my friend. But she told me that Mr. Marshall was helping her. That he had a plan. She did not tell me what plan and I do not think she knew. They left together.”
Nathan nodded. Here was the simple truth that explained Marshall’s behavior today. Why he had sent another member of staff to Nathan instead of Charlotte. Because he did not want Nathan to speak to Charlotte and be told the truth. That he knew where Gemma had gone. The fact that he so fervently swore that he did not know where she was now implied that he did not believe she would have remained long at the place where he left her.
If harm has come to Gemma, then God help me, I will embrace my heritage and become as vengeful and murderous as my father, even if it damns my soul forever!
CHAPTERTHIRTY-THREE
Adoor opened and Gemma got to her feet. She had found a rusty old pitchfork in a corner of the dilapidated barn into which she had been locked. Elliot stepped through the door, kicking it shut with his heel, a squeal of rusty hinges accompanying his boot. He laughed as he saw Gemma in the far corner of the room, brandishing the make-shift weapon. In his arms, he carried a tray. It contained a chipped, ceramic jug, a dark loaf of bread, and a few slices of meat.
“I thought you would be hungry,” he said, putting the tray on the ground. “You should eat it before the rats get wind of it though.”
“How long are you planning to keep me locked up?” Gemma demanded, not taking a step closer to her cousin or relinquishing her weapon.
“I do apologize that you have been forced to spend the night in such…uncouth surroundings. As I recall though, you were always rather fond of sleeping out of doors in the woods as a girl. So, I thought you would be used to it. You will remain here until Eugene is able to rejoin us. He is detained with another guest elsewhere.”
“Why not just kill me and be done with it?” Gemma said.
“Because if you are murdered, it will bring complications that will delay inheritance. It needs to look like an accident, just like your father’s death.”
Gemma gaped. She knew that Elliot was wild, cruel, and unpredictable, but she had not anticipated that he would be quite so blatant about the villainy he had planned. Since being delivered into the hands of Dunkeswick, she had been blindfolded and tied, then moved around on the floor of a carriage. None of her treatment had been gentle and more than once she had wondered why the two cousins did not just dispose of her, if that was their plan.
The blindfold had been removed by Elliot in a dusty and run-down barn. There were no sounds of the city nearby, only the lowing of cattle somewhere in the distance and the occasional barking of a dog. She had no idea where she was but it must’ve been a farm of some kind, out in the country. The journey had not felt long enough to be too far from York though.
“What was that you said about my father?” she whispered.
Elliot made a face. “I do let my mouth run away with me. Still, it doesn’t much matter. If Eugene lets me have my way or whether we go along with his plan, you won’t be in a position to tell anyone.”
“What did you do to my father!” Gemma screamed.
She advanced on her cousin but he stood his ground, reached into his coat, and produced a pistol which he leveled at her and cocked.
“Have a care, cousin. Eugene has yet to convince me of the efficacy of his plan. I could end you here and now. Put down that ridiculous thing. If you threaten me once more, I shall shoot you.”
Gemma saw that it was useless. If she rushed at him, he would shoot her in cold blood. The distance between them was too great. She dropped the implement and raised her chin haughtily, not wanting him to see her fear. Elliot laughed.
“You always were too big for your boots, weren’t you? Given that, as far as you were concerned, you were landless and potless. Left nothing by your wastrel of a father and reliant on the charity of my brother. I have laughed so many times behind your back at your naivety. Did you never wonder what happened to it all?”
“All of what,” Gemma asked coldly.
“The Kirkby fortune. One of England’s great treasure troves. Money, property, art. More money than could be spent in a lifetime.”
“I did not know of it.”
“Of course you didn’t. Because after your father’s accident…” he put an emphasis on the word accident and smirked, “…Eugene was named as trustee until you reached your majority. And we made sure you knew nothing about it. The family solicitor, silly old duffer, dealt with Eugene, believing that an underage girl couldn’t possibly understand the legal jargon in which the trust was couched. We have enjoyed spending your father’s money so far.”
Gemma tried to control the anger that seethed within her. It had always been left to her assumption that there was little or nothing to inherit and what had been left to her had been put to use towards her room, board, and education. To know for certain now that her cousins, as well as the casual cruelty they had visited upon her, were also conspiring to deny her the birthright that her father had left to her, only brought more resentment.
“Was it an accident?” she asked, in a dangerously calm voice.
The wrong answer from the blackguard in front of her would produce a response that she didn’t know if she could control. She might run at him, pistol or no. But, she had to know.
“Your father’s fatal carriage accident, you mean?” Elliot said. “The coroner ruled that the driver had been drinking and that the weather conditions had weakened the road. But coroners are just men. And men like money, especially when they consider themselves underpaid.”