Page 55 of The Blind Duke's Ward

“So, it wasn’t an accident. And the two of you bribed the coroner?” Gemma hissed.

“As far as the Crown is concerned, it was a tragic accident,” Elliot said with a mocking smile.

Gemma took a step but the pistol halted her. It felt as though her blood was pounding in her eyes. Her breathing was coming quick and sharp. She wanted nothing more than to wipe the insolent grin from Elliot’s face.

How long has he tormented me? Teasing and bullying and just being cruel for the sake of it. For his own enjoyment. And I have endured it because I believed that I had nowhere to go. Because I feared to be penniless and homeless. Because I believed it was my lot.

“I always believed that my father must not have cared for me. To leave me with nothing,” she said, tears of rage and grief welling in her eyes. “And you let me believe it. You monster!”

Elliot actually backed away a couple of steps at the scream of anger from Gemma.

“Have a care, cousin. It was nothing personal. I would rather you be poor and neglected than have that fate inflicted on me. We did what we had to. Our own father, your father’s precious brother, was a wastrel who left us with nothing. It’s only Eugene’s cleverness and my ruthlessness that has kept us from the poor house. You would have done the same.”

With that, he hauled the door open and stepped backward through it. Gemma’s rage broke through her defenses and she ran at him, screaming. A mocking grin was the last thing she saw before the door was slammed shut. The sound of something heavy being dropped across it reached her. Gemma threw herself against the splintered wood. Though it was clearly old, it was also solid.

She bruised her shoulder but the door did not budge. She shook it by one of the crossbars of wood that held the planks of it together. Nothing except Elliot’s distant, taunting laughter. She collapsed onto the straw-covered floor, her rage dissolving into grief. Elliot had not admitted it outright. But then, that was not his way. He would rather insinuate and laugh at her than admit the truth outright. What he had said was conclusive enough for her.

The brothers had conspired to murder their uncle, her father. A trust had been left for her which her father had innocently left in the hands of Eugene, believing him to be trustworthy. And now, they presumably were seeking to dispose of her so that they could access the remainder of the fortune with no pushback.

One of the great fortunes of England, he said. I had no idea. But why am I being kept alive? Is it only until they can arrange another carriage accident? He mentioned that his brother had a different plan to himself. What can that be?

There was a sound from outside. A soft footfall. She looked up, fearing that Elliot had reconsidered and had decided to kill her after all. He was impulsive enough to do it, regardless of the consequences. She scrambled on hands and knees across the floor until she reached the pitchfork. Then she turned to face the door. There came the scraping of wood against wood and the door was opened a crack. A head poked around the door and Gemma barely stopped herself from rushing at the door and screaming a war cry.

It was not Elliot, neither was it Eugene. It was the ash-blond stranger that she had spotted on the walk through York with Marshall. He put a finger to his lips and stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

CHAPTERTHIRTY-FOUR

“Who are you?” Gemma whispered.

“My name is Richard Harper. Formerly Captain Richard Harper of the 95th Rifles,” the man replied.

His voice was curious, well-spoken but with a thick, Yorkshire accent layered over it. As though he were a well-educated commoner. While she didn’t know much about military life, she had thought that common-born men did not become officers. Yet, it was rare to hear a gentleman talk with such a broad accent.

“You are a friend of Elliot, I presume,” Gemma said.

“I don’t know who that is, so I would say not,” Harper replied.

“The man who locked me in here.”

“Ah, I saw him. And the other one at the house you were dragged into.”

“Eugene Stamford, Baronet of Dunkeswick. Elliot is a Captain too, of the militia.”

Harper scoffed. “A chocolate box soldier though. Good for parading about and not much else. He had the look.”

“What are you doing here? Your name doesn’t tell me much of your intentions,” Gemma said.

“I am here to set you free. I followed you from the Duke’s house in York. I had been following him but I think he was aware. Led me on a merry dance before I decided to let him go and concentrate on the house. He had to come back there sometime.”

“You were following Nathan?”

“Ah, first name terms is it? I thought it might be…”

Gemma’s eyes must have come alight with anger because he raised his hands defensively. “Nothing to do with me, lass. If you and him are sweethearts, that’s your business. I’m looking for my own sweetheart and we got together in an unconventional way. Least, that’s what her father thinks anyway. I’m certainly no one to judge.”

Gemma narrowed her eyes, letting the tines of the pitchfork lower to the ground.

“You followed me here and intend to rescue me. Why? I’m grateful and it’s a thoroughly decent, gentlemanly thing to do, don’t get me wrong. I’m just trying to ascertain your place in all of this.”