Page 110 of Never Beguile a Duke
“Don’t come any closer.” Straightening his arm, Mr. Hollingsworth aimed the muzzle at Mr. Curtis’ heart.
“I’ve known you for some time,” said Mr. Curtis, edging forward. “And I know, you don’t possess the courage to shoot that pistol.”
“Should we set a wager on that?” Mr. Hollingsworth asked, his voice hard.
Mr. Curtis chuckled. “What collateral do you intend to use to support your reckless claim? Your life?”
“If need be.”
“I can accept those terms.” Moving with the speed of a striking snake, Mr. Curtis lunged and smacked the gun out of Mr. Hollingsworth’s hand.
The pistol slid across the floor and stopped halfway between Mr. Curtis and Mr. Hollingsworth. They leaped at the same moment, both diving for the gun. The weapon clutched in their hands, they rolled across the room, cursing and gnashing their teeth at each other.
Winifred, torn between escaping and ensuring Mr. Hollingsworth survived the struggle, hovered on the outskirts of the drawing room, her head oscillating between the doorway and the two men.
She shouldn’t have hesitated.
A moment later, the pistol fired, and both men froze. Then, moving in slow motion, Mr. Hollingsworth’s eyes rolled backward in his head, his hand dropped from the gun, and he crumpled to the floor, a scarlet pool of blood forming beneath his still body.
Swallowing her terror, Winifred darted out of the room, careened around the corner, and raced for the front door. Her fingers closing around the handle, she froze as the pistol clicked behind her.
“Move away from the door.” Mr. Curtis’ low command caused her heart to stutter.
Nodding, she took one step backward.
“Turn around.”
She complied, raising her hands as she spun toward him.
“Bring the money to me,” he said, gesturing for her to pick up the sack from the hallway.
Edging down the corridor, Winifred kept as far away from Mr. Curtis as possible. However, as she passed the drawing-room doorway, her gaze fell on Mr. Hollingsworth, locking on his glassy eyes, and her chest constricted.
How soon would Mr. Curtis exact his punishment?
“Surely, you must have reason more than simple dislike to want to take my life,” she said, bending over and collecting the loose coins. “Two days ago, we were strangers.”
“True,” replied Mr. Curtis, lowering the pistol. “Aside from your incorporative behavior after your abduction, I have no grievance with you.”
“Then, why would you kill me?” Winifred peeked back at him as she dropped the coins one by one into the sack.
“For revenge,” Mr. Curtis snapped and strode closer. “The Duke of Roxburghe wronged me, and now, I’m going to take everything he cares about.”
“He’s never met you!”
“I’m aware.” The muzzle poked the back of her head. “Pick up the sack.”
“How can you hold a grievance against someone who doesn’t know they’ve committed one?” Winifred asked, struggling not to shudder as the pistol dug into her scalp.
“I lost a great deal of work when the Duke of Roxburghe refused a commission.” Mr. Curtis grabbed Winifred’s shoulder and jerked her to her feet. “No one would hire me. I had to offer the Hills a portrait at half-cost just to survive.”
“Considering that you assaulted and murdered their governess during your residency,” Winifred said as Mr. Curtis’ face purpled, “you should have crafted the painting for free.”
Eyes narrowing, Mr. Curtis yanked the sack of coins from her hand. “If the Hills thought me guilty of any crime, I would be in prison. However, there is no evidence that I committed the atrocities of which you’ve accused me.”
Actually, there was, but Winifred had no intention of placing Miss Juliette in danger by revealing her as a witness.
“Upstairs.” He aimed the pistol at Winifred.
