Page 138 of Every Rake Has A Silver Lining

His face contorted like a mad man, Samuel sneered and pressed the knife into Charlotte’s skin again. A drop of blood trickled down her throat. “You know nothing about my daughter’s death. The bastard killed her as sure as if he pushed her into the river himself.”

Charlotte flinched but continued her attempt to dissuade the man. “And my husband loved Joy and grieves her death just as greatly as you. Don’t you think he’s punished himself enough all these years? It’s why he vows never to love or be loved again. He told me himself. My husband doesn’t love me, and in fact hasreleased me from our marriage to return to my brother. You would gain nothing by killing me, Samuel.”

Simon felt all eyes on him. From the smug look on Edgerton’s face, he no doubt believed he’d won the battle to take Charlotte away.Bastard. Why wasn’t he more concerned about his sister’s life? Hester appeared even more hopeful than when Edgerton had mentioned the annulment. But Samuel—Samuel seemed unsure.

With his arm still wrapped around Charlotte’s waist, Samuel lowered the blade. “Is that true, Beckham? You don’t love her and are planning on ending your marriage?”

For once, Simon weighed each word, examining every argument and possibility in order to speak as truthfully as possible but appease Samuel and end his misguided vendetta. Simon recalled Charlotte’s carefully crafted reply to the vicar during their meeting to obtain a special license. Clever, truthful, but with hidden meaning directed only toward him.

He took a breath, preparing himself for the most important argument in his life. “My marriage to Lady Charlotte was not a love match. An ill-timed and unfortunate discovery of impropriety forced us into the union.”

Edgerton snorted.

Simon ignored him. “Neither of us loved one another. In fact, it’s fair to say we barely tolerated each other. It’s also true the marquess has offered to arrange an annulment, and I have offered to release Lady Charlotte from her promise to me—shouldshewish it.” At the last, Simon locked his gaze with Charlotte’s, willing that magical connection of his friends to make her see the truth.

“My wife is not one to be controlled by anyone. She makes her own decisions. You will derive more satisfaction by allowing her to live, because I suspect she will decide to stay married and vex me for the remainder of my days.” And although it painedhim to do so, he forced the grin his wanton wife had deemed ridiculous.

A strange glimmer appeared in Charlotte’s eyes, perhaps a trick of the moonlight, for her voice remained steady. “The only one to lose in this situation is you, Samuel.” She sighed, the exasperated one she exhaled when bored. “And me, for I shall sorely miss your plum tarts.”

“Drop the knife, Samuel.” Palms out, Simon held up his hands and took one tentative step forward, pleased when Samuel didn’t raise the blade again. “Let’s walk away and end this.”

Relief flooded him when Samuel dropped the knife to the ground. Simon raced up and kicked it aside. He wanted nothing more than to pull Charlotte into his arms and cover her with kisses. But at the moment, they needed to continue the farce. “Go home, Samuel. Promise to leave my wife alone, and we’ll speak no more about this incident.” As much as he wanted to call for the town constable, Simon had pity on the man who, had circumstances been different, might have been his father by marriage.

“You’re not going to allow him to walk free!” Edgerton boomed.

As Simon turned, prepared to tell Edgerton to take his pompous arse elsewhere, a rush of footsteps sounded behind him.

And his heart rose to his throat again as Albie Mooney appeared from nowhere, snatched up the knife, and lunged toward Charlotte.

CHAPTER 37

Much like the events that led to her marriage to the man she had grown to love, Charlotte would never be certain of the sequence that followed. She had barely pulled in a relieved breath after Samuel dropped that bloody knife when Simon turned toward her, his face a mask of horror, his voice booming.

“Charlotte! Get out of the way!”

Knife clutched in his hand, Albie Mooney lunged toward her, his gait unsteady. “I’ll teach you to interfere where you shouldn’t.”

Before she could do as her husband commanded—and if she survived, she would have words with him later about his demands—Simon threw himself between her and Albie.

Albie slashed at Simon, his arm swinging in a wild arc.

Quick on his feet, Simon leaped away.

“Lemme at ’er!” Albie’s slurred words matched his stumbling steps as he charged forward, this time at Simon. He slashed the blade in a wide arc.

Unbidden, Charlotte’s hand rose to her throat as the knife sliced the air toward Simon.

Blocking her view of Albie, Simon jumped back, then darted a glance over his shoulder. “One of you fetch Mr. Cooper!”

Albie took advantage of Simon’s distracted attention and slashed again, and Simon stumbled.

Gah!What was happening?!

Damned if she’d leave her husband alone in such a dire situation, Charlotte didn’t hesitate to delegate the task. “Go, Roland! Your command as a marquess should light a fire under the man’s arse.”

Although Roland hitched a brow, he nodded once.

She yanked Roland’s abominable cane from his hand. “For defense, should I need it. Now, hurry.”

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