Page 92 of Married to the Earl

“I would have thought you’d be the one in a hurry,” Henry said. “Your time at home with your wife is limited, after all. The police are going to come back soon enough to take you to trial. Wouldn’t you rather get out of here so you can get her home?”

“Just stop talking about her, all right?”

“This whole experience must have been an ordeal for her,” Henry said, clearly not listening. “Surely you want to take her back to your manor, so she can relax in the luxury afforded to the noble class?” He leaned around to look at Astrid. “You may as well enjoy that while you can,” he said. “Once he’s convicted, once you’re sent back to your father’s house in disgrace, no member of thetonwill look at you.”

Did he really imagine she wanted to make herself another titled match, Astrid wondered. Could he really think her primary concern was that she wouldn’t live in a manor when this was all over?

Maybe she had misjudged him. Maybe he wasn’t crazy. Maybe he really was just shallow and cruel.

And maybe it didn’t matter.

There was nothing he could say that would take away the things he had done. He was a kidnapper, a traitor, and a murderer.

Suddenly, the idea of Conor signing the papers in front of him made Astrid sick. Why should he have to sign away the business he had worked so hard to build? Why should Henry, who had lied and cheated to get what he wanted, be able to take it from him? Was there truly no justice at all in the world?

Perhaps that was why Conor was hesitating.

Perhaps that was why he hadn’t yet put pen to paper.

But Henry appeared to have run out of patience. “Sign,” he said, raising his gun again, cocking it. “Signnow.”

Astrid couldn’t help the whimper that escaped her as Henry pointed the weapon at Conor.

Henry heard the noise. A grin spread across his face. He stalked past Conor, gun held out before him, and pressed it to Astrid’s temple.

She shivered as the cool metal touched her skin.

“Sign,” Henry said in a voice that was just as cold.

Chapter 37

“Wait,” Conor said. He felt as if his bones were turning to water. “Wait.”

“Wait for what? Sign the damn papers!” Henry pushed the barrel of his gun harder into Astrid’s temple. Conor could see the way the pressure of the gun against her head actually pushed her head to one side. Her eyes were filled with tears, and she was biting her lip so hard it had turned white.

No. No, no, no.

“Don’t think I won’t do it,” Henry snarled, sounding nothing like the man Conor had known for so long. He sounded like a wild animal. “You know I’m not afraid to kill, Conor. If you think you’re going to appeal to my sense of mercy now—”

“How do I know you won’t pull the trigger once I’ve signed?” Conor asked.

“You don’t. What you know is that Iwilldo it if you don’t sign. I’m done being jerked around. Sign the papers now.”

There was nothing he could do. There was no more stalling to be done. He pulled the papers to him and began to sign.

The police still aren’t here.

It didn’t matter. He had lost. He couldn’t wait for the authorities to intervene. He should have had DuBois send them along sooner, rather than waiting a full hour. But it was too late now.

If I don’t do this, he’ll kill Astrid. Her life was all that really mattered.

It was, he reflected ruefully, a master stroke by Henry, and a manipulation that could probably only have been carried out by someone who knew Conor as well as Henry did.

Others might have guessed that he would be unwilling to give up his business, that he would have fought harder to keep it. He had been instrumental in The Arc’s existence from the very beginning, after all. And while he would still have his earldom after this—until he was convicted of murder and stripped of his lands, that was—there was something very special about having a business he had built on his own.

Others might have thought that threatening Conor directly, holding a gun to Conor’s head, would have been the best way to get him to sign away his business.

But they would have been wrong.

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