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In the taproom, Thea poured three glasses of brandy with a surprisingly steady hand.

At some point in the last few minutes, she’d decided to be strong. With all that was occurring, it would only be selfish to

fall apart. Besides, her heart had been broken before and she’d lived through it. She would simply do it again.

Though, part of her suspected there was nothing simple about this time. And that once she finally allowed herself to break, there might not be anything left of her to put back

together.

But she didn’t want to think about that.

So instead, she carried the glasses into the kitchen and handed one to Nan. “I hope you don’t mind. But I thought we could

all use something a bit stronger than tea.”

Pausing to knead a fist into her lower back, Nan nodded gratefully. “I just finished filling the tub. My husband sent that

missive to Lady Broadbent, and went off to fetch Mrs. Trueblood and Miss Iris. And I’m about to start readying another room.”

“I’d be glad to help. I’m not much use in the kitchen, unless it’s toasting bread. But when a girl grows up smuggling animals

into the drawing room, she becomes surprisingly adept at cleaning up a mess before anyone notices.”

Nan offered a smile despite the gravity of the situation. Then she looked down into her glass and let out a breath, the air settling heavily around them. “It was good of you to send Captain Summerhayes after him. St. James is lucky to have you.”

Thea lifted her own glass instead of responding. Taking a sip, she let the brandy burn away the devastation trying to claw

out of her throat.

Without another word, she turned and headed up the stairs.

In the muted light filtering in through tea-stained curtains, Tempest sat huddled in the tub, hugging her knees to her chest.

The curling tendrils of her fiery hair spilled from a haphazard topknot as she stared, unseeing, at the milky surface of the

water.

“I thought you could do with a brandy,” Thea said, holding the glass over the lip of the tub. “And then I’ll wash your hair,

if you like. Nan has made some lovely lavender soap.”

Tempest took the glass without releasing her hold on her knees. “He didn’t, you know.”

“Who, St. James?”

“No.”

“Oh... him .” The instant Thea thought of Redcliffe, her stomach turned, fury roiling inside her. She tasted bitterness and bile on the

back of her tongue. “You were brave to fight back and hit him with the fire poker.”

She nodded, but the hands cupping the glass of brandy started to tremble.

“Don’t think about him. He doesn’t deserve your thoughts a moment longer.” Leaning forward, Thea guided the glass to the other

woman’s lips. “Drink this. It will soothe you.”

Tempest gulped down the amber liquor as if she’d been in the desert for a month. She hissed in a breath. “It burns... Do

you have any more?”

“Here.”

Thea offered her own glass and watched as it was gulped down even faster than the first.

“He didn’t, you know,” Tempest repeated. But this time her voice cracked.

Thea put her arms around her as this brave woman buried her face in her neck and broke down in sobs.

***

Jasper rode his destrier as if they were flying into hell together. In a way, they were. One final ride.

He only slowed to turn onto the road leading to Redcliffe Court. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a

gray stallion charging up alongside him.

He tensed in recognition. “Summerhayes, stay away from me.”

“I’m here to stop you from making a mistake.”

“Ever the hero, is that right? Well, you’re too late,” he sneered, jaw clenched, his hands gripping the reins tighter. “I

already made a mistake by not killing that bastard after he beat my mother with his fists and his boots then claimed she fell

down the stairs. It was a mistake to let him live after he’d sent her to a disease-riddled asylum to die. A mistake to let

him live after he’d committed a dozen more atrocities. And now this?”

Rage roiled inside him, burning like ice in his veins. Rage and hate... and blame.

Because he could never forgive himself for not protecting his cousin, for not seeing Redcliffe’s plan all along.

He should have seen it, damn it all. Only he knew what that monster was capable of.

But Jasper had failed. And while he could never undo what had already been done, he’d be damned if he was going to stand by

and let anyone else suffer when he could stop it.

“I didn’t know about your mother,” Summerhayes said, his tone somber. “And you have my deepest condolences. But if you do this, you will hang.”

“At least they’d finally be safe.” Jasper kept his eyes focused straight ahead. There would be no diverting from this path.

“I had it all wrong, you see. I’d thought that I could protect them. In actuality that was my own arrogance in believing that

I could make a difference. The truth is, only his death and mine will stop this.”

A sense of cold finality fell over him as he thought about all the other avenues he’d tried throughout his life, to no avail.

He knew down to his bones that this was the only way.

As they neared the grand gated entrance, Jasper felt the old walls surround him, blocking out the world.

Through all the beatings he’d endured as a child, he’d learned to close himself off. To shut out the pain and distance his

mind. It had comforted him to think of strategies, of what to do and what not to do, in order to keep his uncle from losing

his temper.

As he’d grown older and larger, those strategies had helped him maneuver in the world that his uncle had created. Jasper had made plans. I’ll show them , he’d thought long ago. He’d show all the people who’d never believed him or bothered to see him, and they would finally

understand. Someday.

Only, that someday never happened.

Then, Althea had appeared in his life. A ray of light shining through black storm clouds. She was all warmth, tenderness and

beauty—everything he never dared to dream was possible. And for a time, she had been his.

Althea and her smiles, he mused wistfully. He’d never deserved them. She should be with a man who could protect her. A man

who would never hurt her.

“You should marry Miss Hartley,” he said to the naval hero, swallowing down the bile of self-abhorrence.

Summerhayes reached out across the space between them, trying to grip his arm. “Stop being such a pigheaded fool! I won’t let you do th—”

Jasper watched his fist connect with the captain’s chin. Saw the man’s eyes roll back.

Before Summerhayes toppled to the ground, he grabbed him by the waistcoat and folded his limp body over the saddle. “You’ll

have a headache and a good deal of wounded pride when you awaken, but you’ll thank me for this one day.”

Jasper refused to think about the captain’s bright and blissful future.

Instead, he let the black sludge of hatred fill his veins as he spurred his horse and rode through the gates of hell.

He saw his uncle standing beneath the portico, a blood-soaked wrapping of muslin angled over one eye. The sight was jarring.

His uncle’s vanity never allowed for imperfections.

The shock of it only reminded Jasper of what Redcliffe had done to deserve it.

Spurring his horse, he rode at a full gallop. Without stopping, he swung his leg over his mount and leapt off, landing with

a spray of gravel beneath his boots.

In a flash, he had his uncle by the throat, his fist raised. It would only take one blow to end him. One blow to the nose

to ram the bone into his uncle’s twisted brain. And the world would be rid of him.

But something stopped him.

Jasper heard his mother’s voice break through the darkness in his mind, making him promise not to hurt others the way they’d

hurt him... He heard Althea’s voice, pleading with him to stop before he did something he would regret...

“Do it, you worthless buffoon,” Redcliffe sneered. “Go on and unleash that rage. I’ve seen it there, every time you look at me. But you’ve always been too much of a coward to unleash it. A sniveling coward like your father.”

He shoved his uncle back, pinning him against one of the columns. “My father was more of a man than you’ll ever be.”

“If that was true, then why was your mother whoring herself out, looking for a new husband with your father barely cold in

his grave?”

“You lie.”

“Do I? Ask Sherborne if you don’t believe me.” He bared his teeth in a grin at Jasper’s confusion. “Surely, you didn’t think

his little invitation to dinner was because he was interested in conversing with you? Or that he might actually help you find

a place in society?” His biting laugh echoed around them. “Such an ignorant fool! He only wanted to find out what you knew,

and to ensure that his name was never associated with that whore.”

Jasper shoved him again. “Stop saying that!”

“Ah. There it is.” That grin dripped with malevolence, a trickle of blood running down his cheek from beneath his bandage.

“Am I finally making a man out of you? Or perhaps you need another push. Shall I tell you what I did to your cousin? How much

she begged me to—”

Jasper reared back. But he didn’t want it to end quickly. No, his uncle needed to suffer.

Striking the solar plexus forced the air out of Redcliffe’s lungs in a guttural rush. His body hunched forward, but Jasper

held him upright, delivering blow after blow, feeling the satisfaction of fists sinking into flesh, of ribs cracking under

the force.

He was so blinded by fury that he didn’t see the guards approach. Didn’t feel them try to pry him off. And didn’t notice the

butt of a rifle coming down on the back of his head until pain lanced through his skull and everything went black.

***

An eerie howl sent a shiver over Thea as she stepped outside. The boy and wolf sat by the fence, their silhouettes limned

by the waning afternoon light that bled through the canopy of trees overhead.

Leaving Tempest with her mother and sister upstairs, she closed the door behind her and walked across the back garden.