Page 86 of Broken

Lillian whimpered. Pleasure raced down his spine. He’d had no idea that killing her in person would bring him so much joy. He’d forgotten so much of his earlier attempt. He’d been too young to appreciate the moment. He pulled the pistol from his pocket and took aim at the dog.

As he expected, Lillian surged to her feet.

“Now walk.”

“Where are we going?”

Bartholomew pressed a hand to his forehead. “Don’t ruin this for me by babbling now. I much preferred it when you were insensible.”

“Papa taught me to speak my mind.”

“Your father is a foolish man. He would have done better to have listened to his wife and smothered you where you lay all those years ago.” At Lilly’s gasp, Bartholomew stepped closer. “She could have succeeded, too, if he wasn’t so weak! Your hands looked so pretty as you scratched at the pillow.”

“Lillian, where are you?” Lord Winter called.

Lilly opened her mouth to reply, but Bartholomew shook his pistol. “Say one word and he dies now.”

Bartholomew backed into the shadows. He skirted his uncle and, when he reached Lillian, Bartholomew swung the pistol hard at his uncle’s head.

The baron slumped to the ground and did not move again.

“You said you wouldn’t hurt him,” Lillian cried out.

“I said I wouldn’t kill him first.” Bartholomew grinned. Now he had two things he wanted, and all in one night. Lillian on her knees, and his uncle one step closer to death.

He could be master of Dumas before the night was through if he did this right.

* * *

Giles rushed up the stairs, opening every door he came to. Outside, servants ran back and forth from the well and stream, carrying anything that could hold water. He searched inside the house, checking how far the fire had spread and looking for signs of Lilly. So far the worst of it seemed to be merely a great deal of smoke. He hurried to Lilly’s bedchamber door and pushed it open.

No sign of her. Although he was relieved she was out of danger, he worried at how the smoke might have affected her. He moved along to check Carrington’s door and found it locked.

When he knocked, he heard Carrington cry out. Using the housekeeper’s keys, he fumbled to open the lock only to be bowled over by Carrington.

Giles hit the ground hard.

“Sorry about that.” Carrington pulled him to his feet. “Damn door was stuck. I was just debating jumping out the window.”

“Not stuck, locked,” Giles managed to gasp out.

Carrington ducked back into his room, returning with a pistol in his hand. “Better to be careful then. Where’s your Lilly?”

A pane of glass broke below them, and he turned his friend toward the stairs. “I haven’t found her yet. Get yourself outside and look for her. I’ll check the rest of this floor in case she became lost in the smoke.”

“Be careful.”

Giles pushed him on his way and checked the rest of the floor. The rooms were all empty. He re-closed the doors as he went and headed down the stairs into thick, swirling smoke. He checked along the edges of each step, making sure no one had been overlooked. Giles was gasping horribly by the time he reached the front door, but he was confident that everyone was safe.

Outside, the air was blessedly cool and clear. He dragged the fresh night scents deep into his lungs. The cooler air irritated his throat, and he coughed until his lungs hurt. A grunt opened his eyes and he looked about him.

Across the drive, Lord Winter lay beside the pond. Poor man must be done in. But at least he’d found Lilly. She and Atticus were huddled around the older man—and it wasn’t until the dog started growling that he realized they were not alone.

Barrette stood over them.

Atticus edged between Lilly and Barrette, teeth bared and snarling. The dog was enraged.

Giles ran toward them as fast as he could. Just as he neared, the dog gave his presence away by turning toward the sound of his approach. He suddenly found himself facing a dueling pistol.