Page 47 of A Masked Lady for Mr. Kenworthy
“Dear Cousin,” he said. “What brings you home so soon? We were not expecting you back for at least another day. Did you not have a party to attend?” He laughed wildly, waving the gun as he did so. “Or did you manage to disgust the marquess as much as you do me?”
Faye looked at Mayson, trying to decide what she should do next. Logically, she knew, if she made any out of turn move, then he would certainly shoot her. Then again, if he shot her right away, he would never find out whether she had learned anything about the marquess’s black journal. She knew that everything she said and did next could be the difference between saving her mother’s life or watching the dowager countess die right before her eyes. So, for the time being, she simply remained silent.
Mayson motioned with the barrel of the pistol for her to sit by her mother, never allowing his aim to dip as she moved. She complied, more out of fear for her mother’s safety than for her own. When she reached the dowager countess, Faye took her hands in her own.
“Oh, Mother,” she whispered. “I am so sorry. I promise you that I shall fix all of this.”
Mayson laughed again, the gun shaking in his hand once again. Though Faye suspected Mayson was an excellent shot, she knew the humor-induced convulsions could well result in him pressing on the trigger well before he meant to. She held her breath and waited for him to stop laughing. When he did, he wiped tears of amusement from his face with his free hand. Then he sighed, chuckling once more.
“My dear Faye,” he said. “Truthfully, I did not expect you to be so foolish as to return here. I thought, at most, that you would send one of your friends to retrieve your mother in your stead.”
Faye stared at him, trying to keep her face from betraying the terror she felt.
“What friends?” she said, her voice biting. “I have had no friends since Father died and left us poor.”
Mayson’s smile disappeared, and he narrowed his eyes at her.
“So, you are a liar as well as a fool, I see,” he snapped. “It is useless to try to deceive me, Cousin. I am well aware that you are now working undercover for some agents of the Crown. Two of them, to be precise.”
The prayer Faye had begun silently screaming at the heavens died before it was fully formed. Perhaps she was a fool because she had truly begun hoping that Mayson had no way of knowing that she was working with Mr. Kenworthy and Lord Daleshire. But with his declaration, she knew she had been terribly incorrect. She wondered where her folly lay, as she had been as careful as she could be to keep her cousin from finding out. Not even her mother knew. So, how could he?
“Ah,” Mayson said, howling with laughter. “You needn’t speak a word, Faye. Your face is utterly priceless now, and it speaks far louder than your words ever could.”
Faye stood, frozen in horror until Mayson stepped close enough to graze her cheek. Not with his own hand but with the cold barrel of the gun he was holding. When the icy metal touched her skin, she shrieked and leapt backward, nearly toppling a table. Mayson leveled the gun once more, and she heard the clicking sound again.
“I suggest you remain as still as you were just then, little girl,” he snarled. “I would hate to get a fright and accidentally twitch with my finger on the trigger.” He laughed, and the maniacal sound sent waves of terror throughout Faye’s body. His face looked as vicious as his voice was wild and merry, and Faye shuddered when he spoke again. “You made a terrible mistake, little girl. And I can promise you that you will pay dearly for it.”
Faye’s heart was beating so furiously in her chest, she was sure she would collapse. But there was someone else to consider more important than her own safety at that moment. No matter what Mayson intended to do to her, she must prevent him from harming her mother.
“Tell me what you want, Mayson,” she said, surprising herself with the strength and bravado in her voice, considering her mother might be harmed by Mayson because of her own involvement with the Crown agents. “Mother had nothing to do with any of this. She did not even know about any of it. You do not need to harm her.”
Mayson snorted, staring at Faye unmoving, for a moment that felt eternal. Then, without blinking or taking his eyes off Faye, he turned and pointed the gun straight at the dowager countess.
“Oh, but I believe that I do need to hurt her,” he said. “Tell me, what could be better than letting you live the rest of your life knowing that you were responsible for your mother’s death?”
Faye felt all her strength leave her body. She wanted to jump in front of her mother and let Mayson shoot if he truly sought to. She was perfectly willing to protect her mother with her own life. But the horror of knowing that her cousin could pull the trigger at any second, before she could save her mother, kept her rooted where she stood. Her earlier bravery failed her, and she began to cry softly.
“Leave Mother out of this, Mayson,” she said, barely whispering. “She had been through enough, and she truly knows none of what is going on. Besides, I have what it is that you want.”
She reached into her valise, causing Mayson to train the gun quickly back on her. He pulled back the metal piece on the back, and she realized that was what kept making the clicking sound.
“One wrong move, and you will not live to see what I do with your mother,” Mayson warned. But his eyes went from cold and menacing to curious, and even hopeful.
Faye nodded, relieved to have his attention, and his gun, back on her. She glanced at her mother, silently pleading with her to run, but the dowager countess shook her head, smiling sadly. She would not run. Of course, she would not. She intended to protect her daughter to the death, just as Faye intended to protect her mother.
In a desperate attempt to end the standoff and the threat to her mother’s life, she pulled out the black leather-bound journal. She had been hesitant to bring it with her, even as she had asked the countess to let her keep it on a whim as they traveled to her home. She had been certain that Mayson would be gone, and that she would have the journal safely in the hands of the Crown agents by the time he returned. But right then, she was glad she had changed her mind and brought it with her, rather than letting the countess take it to Mr. Kenworthy and Lord Daleshire.
Mayson’s eyes gleamed, and, for the first time, he lowered the gun. He snatched the book right out of Faye’s hands, and Faye thought she saw him salivating.
“Well, well,” Mayson said, muttering with a strange ardor that made Faye’s skin crawl. “Even now, you never cease to amaze me, little Cousin. However did you manage to get this, without even attending Charles’s party?”
Faye felt no need to answer her homicidal cousin. Rather, she used the distraction to collect herself. She mustered all her courage and forced herself to stop crying.
“What is so important about that book?” she asked, praying to buy time enough to figure out how to get her mother out of the room.
For a moment, Mayson did nothing but stare at the book, and Faye thought he would not answer her. She almost dared to believe he had forgotten that she and her mother were still there. She started to turn her body so that she could insistently wave to her mother to leave the room. But, just then, Mayson looked back up, his eyes still sparkling and his smile at last something close to genuinely pleased and excited.
“This journal contains all the information of prominent contacts within the French network,” he said, as though she should already know that.
