Page 92 of Seduced By a Scoundrel

“I’m not getting married. Tied to one chit?” Sybil recognized that voice as well. Lord Coxwell? Lord Campbell? Some name that started with a C.

“Don’t be so banal. Don’t make us doubt your commitment. Marry and you are free to do as you like without the eyes of the dowagers on you. Marry well and you can do anything at all. Eastbourne and Portsmouth had the run of Britain until those damned Spinsters.”

“This is absurd. I was told there would be women and wine,” Lord C argued. “Not this claptrap.” He pushed his hood back. “I don’t need your help. And when my father hears—”

Only he did need someone’s help.

As evidenced by the dagger currently sticking out of his back. He gurgled in shock, then pain, before crumpling. No one moved to catch him. A few of them, like Sybil, were frozen. Too many were smiling. Arrogant. Unmoved by the blood and the choking gasps of a dying man.

Sybil finally took a step toward him, but it was too late.

“Anyone else?” Minos asked.

The silence was palpable. Edged with excitement, fear. Potential.

“This is a secret society, and we take our oaths seriously. We won’t be undone by weaklings or spinsters.”

Sybil’s breath was loud in her ears. No one spoke. Blood pooled on the rug, creeping closer and closer to her boot. It smelled coppery, like wet, rusty coins. She fought back a gag.

“We’ve made a list of suitable quarry. Memorize it. There are fortunes to be had, gentlemen. Don’t disappoint us.” Minos smiled. “And one more thing.”

Well, that was never a good sign. What came after the show, after the flash and pomp, was usually the most important part.

And if the show was outright murder? Not encouraging.

“Get the Spinsters under control. Marry them or murder them, I don’t much care. As she helped take down Eastbourne, you can start with Sybil Taun—”

Sybil barely had time to react. And he did not have time to elaborate.

At the sound of her name, a gunshot cracked the air.

A bullet tore through the room, leaving behind a shattered window and hitting Minos in the foot. He screamed, blood spattering. He toppled to the side, caught by one of his men while the others froze in panic. Not so smugly arrogant now. Not so thrilled by the violence when it was not their doing.

Only one of the members stayed calm. He stood slowly, easing out of the pathway of the window in case another bullet followed the first. It didn’t. He waited. Watched.

Sybil watched him in return.

As best she could. As Minos was carried out, some of the members threw themselves to the ground, covering their heads. Wine spilled from the amphora, dripping onto the carpet with the blood. There was a great deal of shouting and panic.

But they kept their masks on.

Sybil snatched the list of suitable heiresses and darted toward the window.

Hands gripped her and hauled her out into the cold.