Page 105 of The Last Chance
Mrs Lowry’s eyes widened. “You’d kill me? After years of faithful service?”
“Faithful service?” Natasha’s frigid chuckle could freeze hell’s flames. “Oh, please. I know about your failed attempts to run away with Lucia. Roberto told me he caught you trying to escape the villa. You can’t be trusted and have outlived your purpose.”
“So, you throw children to the wolves and murder helplesswomen.” Aaron didn’t bother altering his voice. “When you’ve established yourself at Fortune’s Den, I suspect Lucia will suffer a terrible accident and you’ll be the sole beneficiary.”
Natasha grinned. “Children are useful to a point. What a shame you reminded Ignatius of your mother. He enjoyed watching other men beat you. He couldn’t quite rouse the strength to thrash you himself.”
Aaron flinched. Hatred for his father lived in the marrow of his bones, but he’d be lying if he said Natasha’s comment didn’t hurt. It cut deep.
“He must be turning in his grave at your betrayal,” he said in this war of words. “Berridge as good as murdered my mother. Now you’re working with him to destroy what’s left of her memory.”
Natasha raised her hands as if exasperated. “All those punches to the head must account for your stupidity. I’m representing your father in his absence. He would have taken your gaming hell, as I mean to do.”
Yes, jealous of Aaron’s success, Ignatius would have made him suffer. “My brothers will fight you to the death.”
Looking bored, Natasha examined her hands. “You know what happens to the hive when the queen dies. The tiny insignificant bees perish.”
“My brothers are a damn sight more dangerous than bees.” It annoyed him to think his father would be proud.
“Men in love are easy to overthrow. A wife heavy with child is like a chink in their armour.”
This vixen knew how to manipulate Aaron’s thoughts. She knew where to fire the arrow. “Don’t pretend you cared for my father. You let our neighbour bed you while Ignatius was still alive.”
Natasha found his retort amusing. “It was your father’s idea, a way of protecting me from Berridge when he was gone. MissLovelace knows what it’s like when wolves come knocking. When you’re dead, they’ll tear her to shreds.”
Aaron didn’t dare think about Joanna.
He didn’t let his mind invent stories.
He didn’t acknowledge the ache in his heart.
“Where is Berridge? The lad at the Ferry House said he accompanied you here. Will you kill him to avenge my father?”
The notion was ludicrous.
What made her believe she could escape punishment?
“Me? Good Lord, no. You’ll kill him when you’ve signed the documents naming Lucia your heir. It will look like you agreed to meet here to fight.”
It was Aaron’s turn to laugh. “You underestimate me, Natasha. I’ll never sign the documents. Besides, there’s a flaw in your plan. As Mrs Lowry will attest, I did not come to Lambeth alone tonight. By now, my brothers will know of your treachery.”
Natasha didn’t believe him. “You’d never risk the lives of those you love. Aaron Chance, the lone hero, fights everyone’s battles.”
Mrs Lowry begged to differ. “The lady came in the carriage and left Lambeth before I brought Mr Chance to the boat.”
With a fleeting look of unease, Natasha scanned her surroundings. Satisfied they were alone, she drew a double-barrelled pistol from the deep pocket of her cloak, cocked one hammer and aimed at Aaron.
“No one knows we’re at the Dog Pit,” Natasha said, confident his brothers wouldn’t think to visit marshland in the dead of night. “They’ll be out scouring every back alley, storming the earl’s house, hounding that simpleton Miss Stowe. I knew not to trust Lucia or Mrs Lowry with the information.” She glanced at the alder trees—ghostly sentinels in the foggy haze—and yelled for her lackey to fetch the Earl of Berridge.
Amid a grumble of voices and gruff shouts, Berridgeappeared, shuffling through the boggy grassland, his hands and ankles shackled, the cloth gag sagging beneath his chin.
“Release me at once.” Berridge’s enraged eyes bored down on Natasha. “You agreed to let me kill him. I’ve given you the money. Now have these miscreants untie me, and hand me that pistol.”
Natasha giggled like she was at the Olympic watching Madame Vestris’ farcical play. “Neither of you will leave here alive. How could I honour my dear Ignatius’ memory when the two people he hated most are still breathing?”
For a moment, Aaron was back in his childhood home, wondering what he’d done to earn his father’s wrath, longing for his parent’s love, believing he was undeserving.
“The master didn’t hate his son,” Mrs Lowry protested. “You poisoned his mind. You made him believe the boy was weak and wouldn’t survive if left to fend for himself.”
