Page 49 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
“Get your hands off me!” he screeched. “I am the brother of a marquess! You cannot do this!”
They ignored him, and so did Snowy. He addressed the men. “You know what to do.”
Martin darted looks at the spectators, none of whom seemed inclined to intervene. His gaze fell on Margaret. “Who else do you think is going to marry you, bitch? Too plain. Too old. Too bookish. Too damned bossy. You’ll spend your life alone. I was glad when your father paid me to go away. You were boring, and a bad—”
He finished with a shriek as the valet gave him a hard cuff before dragging him out.
Snowy saw the alarm on Margaret’s paled face. “Lady Charmain, pay him no mind. He lies again. Any man with a modicum of intelligence and decency would be proud to be your choice as husband. Not only do you have great friends of influence who can and will gladly attest to your virtuous ways, but you are beautiful, just the right age, clever and confident. I can imagine no greater joy than a life with you as my viscountess and my wife.”
He had arrived late, consumed with fear and anger. Not too late, thank all the powers of Heaven. When he’d found out that Daphne had been Major Lord Hungerford-Fox’s harlot of choice for the past week, he’d guessed who have given her the poison, and Daphne had confirmed it.
After that, he and Rahat had driven past the Duke of Winshire’s house and borrowed several more of his warriors, who were now preparing to bundle Hungerford-Fox off to be held for questioning. The filthy coward may have been the one to pay Daphne to poison him, but Snowy would be very surprised if the idea did not originate with his stepfather. He thought of the words Lily had shared from one of the Deffew brothers:All he had to do was have a friend who wanted someone killed, and they could swap victims.
For now, he had a lady to dance with. One he had all but proposed to in front of a room full of people. He could not help being disappointed that she had not answered him.
“What are you intending to do with Major Lord Hungerford-Fox?” asked a stout matron. Snowy bowed when he recognized her. Tonight’s hostess.
“Take him before a magistrate for questioning, my lady. Earlier this evening—even as I went downstairs from my rooms, in fact—a person who lives in the same building attacked me with a hat pin that had been dipped in poison. Thanks to quick action by my valet, her attack failed. She claims that Hungerford-Fox gave her the hat pin and paid her to strike me with it.”
Margaret gasped and he smiled to himself when she reached to grab his arm in spite of their audience. She searched his face with wide, startled eyes. “You are unhurt?” she asked.
“She did not touch me,” he assured her, placing his free hand over hers.
The hostess nodded, then signaled to the orchestra to start playing. “I congratulate you on your admirer, Lady Charmain,” she said. “He is handsome, charming, rich, and likely to be a viscount besides.”
Chapter Eighteen
Snowden paced toand fro in front of the mirror, too angry to stand in one place.
“That idiot! Itoldhim to stay away from the Charmain bitch tonight. Itoldhim.”
He glared at Richard in the mirror. “Not that he did anything else I told him.Get the whore to show you where the bastard’s rooms are, and lie in wait for him, I told him.Or wait for him on the stairs and stick him as he passes.Or a dozen other ways.Just get close and jab him.Simple.”
He strode off across the room again, catching himself short before the wall and swinging round to stomp back the same way.
“Just a scratch. All it would take is a scratch. Just enough to put the poison into his blood and then nothing would save him.”
He surprised himself with a cackle at the thought of his would-be usurper writhing in agony as the deadly snake venom took hold, first paralyzing its victim then causing every bodily system to break down as the soon-to-be corpse leaked blood from every orifice.
But he had no reason to celebrate. Edmund’s bastard was still alive. Alive, at tonight’s ball, and brazen enough to have Hungerford-Fox carted off for questioning.
“They will let him go,” Snowden assured Richard in the mirror. Hungerford-Fox was the brother of a marquess. he would be released on his own recognizance as soon as he appeared before a magistrate.
Once that happened, Snowden could deal with Hungerford-Fox. He would not allow the man to be questioned. The idiot could tell who had supplied the poison.
Snowden frowned. Not could. Would. The miserable coward would never stand against any questioning. Snowden had no doubt he’d be released when he landed in the custody of a magistrate. But what if he had not been taken to a magistrate?
Snowden had recognized the foreign-looking men who obeyed Moses White’s orders last night. It was the Duke of Winshire’s men who had taken Hungerford-Fox away.
Richard in the mirror frowned, as if to ask, “Where?”
“I have to find him,” Snowden answered. “He deserves to die. He trusted his duty to a woman. Not just a woman; a whore. Fool. Yellow-livered idiot.”
If the Duke of Winshire was taking a hand, Snowden would have to be careful, but Snowden had friends, or if not friends, at least tools.
For a moment, as he met the suddenly sad eyes of his reflection, Snowden mourned the loss of Matthew Deffew. Hisonlyfriend. The one man he had always been able to rely on, until the selfish oaf let a woman push him over the edge of common sense and he took the risk that killed him.
“I could have told you, Matthew. No woman is ever worth it. They are all treacherous harlots. Everything I did, I did to win Madeline, and was she grateful? Did she believe in me and trust me?”
