Page 7 of Her Daring Earl
“I was offered a great sum of money to poison your drink.”
“By whom?” Fitz asked, astonished.
“I’m not sure. I wasn’t asked directly. It was through a note left for me here at the hell with an advance and a promise of the rest once you were dead.”
“You were going tokillme? I do hope you are jesting.” Fitz began to pace back and forth across the small room, unsure of what to believe at the moment.
“It was a great sum of money,” she said, having the courtesy to appear chagrined, at least. “It could take care of my daughter for the rest of her life. But in the end, I couldn’t do it.”
“How wonderful of you,” he intoned, and she dipped her head.
“It was wrong to even consider it, I know. But at least now you know, Fitz, that someone wants you dead.”
“Whatever for?” he said, lifting his arms out to the side.
“I have no idea,” she said. “I know nothing of your life. But you best be watchful.”
“Oh, not to worry,” he said. “I will.”
He just wasn’t sure whether or not to believe this ridiculous story.
She stepped forward toward him, trailing her fingers down his chest seductively.
“Should we go back to where we were?”
“No!” he said, throwing her hand away from him. “I think it is best that you stay far away from me.”
Truth be told, he had been forcing himself to follow through on anything with her. Every time she stepped close to him, all he could see was Eliza’s face, which caused him no shortage of chagrin. For he should have nothing to do with the woman. He knew that with every bit of his rational thought, and yet, his body didn’t seem to understand.
“I’m sorry, Fitz,” Madeline said, her face breaking slightly, bringing him back to the present moment. “I never meant to?—”
“Look,” he said, holding a finger up toward her. “I’m not entirely sure what you want from me right now. A thank you for not killing me? I am glad that your conscience came through in the end, but at the moment, I am slightly more concerned with the fact that you were, for a time, willing to go through with my demise for a fee. Now, I am going to take my leave. I won’t report you to anyone, for which you should be grateful as one word from me could ruin your life. I would not, however, do that to your daughter.”
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears. Fitz knew he was being hard on her, and understood her pain, and yet, he was more shaken than he’d like to admit that he had nearly died by her hands.
He shook his head as he flung open the door and walked out. Who would possibly want him dead? Yes, there could be political motives, but at this point, he had thedesireto make change – he was not yet actually going through the motions to do so. No one would have any more reason to do away with him than any other member of the House of Lords.
Ridiculous.
As he pushed his way through the gaming hell part of the establishment, he avoided eye contact as best he could, not stopping but lifting his hand in greeting anytime he saw a familiar face. He didn’t seem to have it within him to make jovial conversation at the moment. Not after the evening he’d had.
The only person he saw was Baxter, sitting near the exit, watching the night's procedures with a smile beneath his mustache.
“Baxter,” he nodded to him.
“Where are you off to?” Baxter asked. “I’ve just arrived.”
“I’ve had enough fun for one night,” Fitz grunted.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Ask Madeline. She’s poisonous this evening. Literally.”
With that, he stepped through the doors, the London air as crisp and as cool as could be, at least compared to the smoke and aromas that had been inside the hell. He lifted his hand, about to call for a hack, when he decided that the night was nice enough that a walk might clear his head.
He needed to shake loose the weight that had descended upon his shoulders, in the form of seven sisters who would need or soon need husbands, an earldom, his political goals, and a certain green-eyed woman his body refused to ignore.
And now there was this so-called plot to kill him.
