Magnus just stood there as the sound of the gunshot rang in his ears. It was all happening so slowly, and he wondered when he would drop to his knees. When his vision would go dark. When his last breath and his last thought of Verity would fade from his body.
Across from him, Eugene’s eyes widened with shock as if he couldn’t believe he’d pulled the trigger either. But then his features twisted in agony. Jagged lines erupted on his face like a lightning storm. His firing arm fell slack, hanging limply at his side as the pistol fell to the floor with a dull thud.
Then a bloom of crimson saturated the pale blue of Eugene’s waistcoat.
Magnus was confused. He looked down at his own waistcoat. Numbly patted the cashmere in search of a hole. But found nothing.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the shadowed figure dash away, a slight limp to his gait. Until that moment, he’d forgotten about their silent audience.
Had he shot Eugene by accident? Or had he saved Magnus’s life?
“You idiot!” Verity whispered. Or rather, she shouted, only he couldn’t hear properly at the moment. Everything sounded distorted as if he were under water. And for some reason, he imagined he heard a whistle blowing in the distance. But his focus was on the violet eyes in front of him and the pools gathering along the lower rims. “You were shot, you fool.”
He shook his head, his hand covering the fist that she pressed against his heart. “I wasn’t.”
She arched a brow and whipped a handkerchief from his coat pocket. Then she pressed it to the top of his ear.
He winced. And the linen came back bloody.
He investigated the warm, sticky wound and, sure enough, he’d been shot. It seemed that part of his ear was missing, a crescent shaped sliver. Taking the handkerchief, he wiped the residue from his fingers, feeling rather lucky that it wasn’t worse. “It’s just a graze.”
“I hate you.” Shimmering tears rained down her cheeks in earnest as both fists came to lie on his chest.
He smoothed away the wet trails with his thumbs. “I know you do, wildling.”
It was in his mind to lower his head and kiss her just then.
Unfortunately, his hearing started to return and he heard a throat clear behind him. And he turned to see Hartley, as four men in blue tailcoats and top hats rushed in to escort the prisoners away. One member of the police, who was stocky with bright red hair, big ears and who looked oddly familiar, stopped to shake Hartley’s hand.
“Apologies for the delay, Lord Hartley. Though I see you handled it quite nicely. And Miss Hartley, it’s good to see you again,” he said with a bow and they both smiled at him warmly.
What was Magnus missing?
“Constable Milo,” Hartley said. “I should like to introduce you to the Duke of Longhurst.”
Milo? Magnus felt his brow furrow. That was the surname of his secretary. “By any chance are you related to one Victor Milo?”
“My big brother, Your Grace,” he supplied. “We were fortunate that Lord Hartley offered us a place to live years ago when our father, who was once in a theatre troop, was down on his luck. The baron helped us on our feet again and recommended a good post for my brother. Treated us like family, he did.”
Magnus was forced to put all the pieces together and to see the truth for himself. It seemed impossible that Hartley wasn’t the villain he had created in his mind all these years. And yet, with everything that had been revealed, it appeared that Hartley was far more like the man Magnus had once admired as a boy.
He shook his head in confusion. “If you weren’t guilty, then why all the anonymous payments?”
Hartley’s smile fell and sadness crept over his expression like a shadow. “My own arrogance caused pain to other people, to friends who were like family to me. A man’s greatest duty is to his family. In that, I am certain you understand.”
Magnus met Verity’s fretful gaze and he offered a solemn nod. “I do, indeed.”
Verity was railed at the instant her father entered the carriage behind her. “What do you mean by rushing into danger like that? I sent you that letter because I trusted you to be sensible. Where was your head? Do you have any idea what might have happened to you?”
Kidnapping and strangulation were the first answers that sprang to mind. However, she decided to keep her mouth closed.
She knew she’d been wrong. And yet . . . “What other choice did I have? Your note was rather ominous and I was afraid for you. Did you expect me to spend the night knitting my fingers in worry until I heard from you again?”
“Yes!” he declared as if that were the logical thing. “Utterly foolish girl. Just wait until your mother learns of this . . .”
“And does she know why you are in town? And what might have happened to you?”
His chin jutted forward mulishly. “That is beside the point. And, perhaps, your mother doesn’t need to know everything. I daresay if she found out, she’d likely murder us both.”
“You should stay at the town house tonight, Hartley,” Magnus interjected, and Verity didn’t know if she was more surprised by this or by having had a gun against her temple. “After everything that you’ve been through, and knowing how much family means, I believe it would put your mind at ease to have the assurance of being near your daughter.”
Her father fell silent for a moment. The truth was, he was likely shocked, too. But then he offered a nod of acceptance. “Thank you, lad. I would. Although, if you change your mind, I’d understand that, too.”
“I won’t change my mind.” And with that, the matter was closed.
Then her father picked up the pitchfork and torch and resumed his rant at her.
But in the meantime, Magnus said nothing. He stared stoically out the dark window, his countenance shuttered.
Verity knew that look. It was his I must not fail in the execution of my duty look. And it broke her heart.
She knew that he was thinking about his family and the life promised for his brother. Discovering that Mr. Eugene had orchestrated not only this, but the first scheme that had taken nearly everything from him, must have been a crushing blow.
In addition, he was probably thinking about Anna and the dowry that the Longhurst estate needed.
Even though he might have declared a certain regard for Verity in the heat of the moment, she had enough sense to understand that tender feelings didn’t fill the family coffers.
As for herself, well, she wanted more than to vex a man to distraction.
After having been left and forgotten by others, she wanted to be a man’s first thought in the morning and last thought at night. She wanted her existence to matter more than breathing. Well . . . perhaps not more than breathing. That might have been asking for too much.
And yet, was it? Her parents had that kind of love, after all. And if she was going to be loved by any man, then why not be the very air that he breathed? The one he could not live without? The one he would willingly overcome any obstacle for, just to be with her?
A sigh left her. She knew that some obstacles were simply too great.