Page 41 of The Duke's Tempting Widow
Weston could tolerate a lot, having him threaten Lydia was not one of those things that he could tolerate. Not even for a moment. “I will kill you if you touch her.”
Cassian snorts a laugh. “Kill me? Do you…? Oh, cousin, how stupid you are. Though, perhaps I should not harm her. You are right. Perhaps some lines should not be crossed. She is still beautiful, after all, and young. She shall be at my mercy if she wishes a decent future for her existing daughters… and she will still have plenty of time to bear me many heirs.”
Weston snarled, a sound that he had never heard himself make before as his eyes snapped open in fury. He pulled so hard on his chains that for a moment, he heard them squeal in protest.
“Dare me to, cousin? I think you are still underestimating me. You ought to be begging for my mercy.” Cassian taunted, standing close to where the duke strained against his bonds.
“Beg? You? Never.”
“Her husband begged.” Cassian grinned cheekily. “He pleaded for not his life, but the happiness of his family, before I killed him. Do you think that she will cry, when I force her to wed the man who murdered her husband and lover? I bet she is pretty when she cries. Fear not, I shall be there to soothe her tears.”
“The earl died of a heart attack.” Weston said, echoing the story that had been told to him.
“Well, that is what the papers think, yes. I could not very well have them come looking for a murderer when I intended to step in, now could I?”
“You are not capable.”
“Am I not?” Cassian snapped, getting in the duke’s face with fury twisting his features. “It was a simple enough task to hire a man to poison him. Stood over him in his last moments as the earl blubbered for help. He was the first obstacle to my getting the power and fortune that I deserve, and you are the final one. I tried to do this nicely, I tried to give you an option as blackmail is certainly more savory than murder, but now…”
Weston could not believe what he was hearing. Poison? The coward’s method through and through, and even then, he could not bother to poison the earl himself? A sad, pathetic little man on a power trip. He needed to find a way to free himself,and quickly before things got any further out of control than they already were.
“Of course you would never see reason,” Cassian continued. “You would never give me what I am owed. So, when I learned that you were headed to London - I figured it would only be kind of me to, ah, escort you.”
The man laughed, a high-pitched, nasally sound as he thought himself clever.
“All I have to do is make your death look like a similar accident, and then I will be the only remaining, legal, heir to both of the fortunes! I will only need to wait for the solicitors to bring me the news! See? It is a flawless plan! Perfect execution!”
Cassian poured the two of them a drink from a bottle that Weston could not see in the dim lighting. But he could see well enough to notice that something was very obviously added to the second glass. The liquid started to fizzle as Cassian finished the contents of his own glass in one gulp. He smacked his lips wetly as he carried Weston’s glass over to him.
“Well, I suppose that is all that there is left to say! Goodbye, cousin.” Cassian grabbed Weston’s face firmly by the chin and wrenched his head forward, placing the glass against his lips with force.
Weston had no desire to go easily. He tried to thrash, to get away from the liquid that was being forced against his lips, but there was nowhere to go. Cassian’s grip on his face turned bruising as he dug his fingers into Weston’s jaw, forcing his mouth open little by little.
He could feel it, the poison was going to be the death of him. Cloyingly sweet, the tainted liquid touched his lips, his tongue. He tried not to swallow, Cassian’s cruel mocking laughter as the liquid trickled down the back of his throat.
Somewhere in the distance, perhaps a death angel, he could swear that he could hear Lydia’s sweet voice calling out his name.
Clinging to it - Weston reared back in a swift motion and slammed his throbbing head into Cassian’s right in front of him.
The glass fell to the floor and shattered.
The room spun, and he was only vaguely aware of Cassian stumbling backward as Lydia’s voice called his name again. A fog consumed his mind as he struggled to keep his eyes open. Everything tilted sideways. It was too late. Just… a moment longer. He tried to hold on… he tried.
Chapter 26
“Weston!” Lydia called out his name over and over again. She did not give a damn that she spoke informally of the duke, or who might overhear her yelling for him. The house was just as miserable as she remembered it. Of course, it had plenty of potential if she had been given the time and opportunity to dump resources into the place to make it more habitable, but she had not.
Now, after all of this mess was over and done with, she had a mind to sell the place, or allow it to rot into the ground. These were the sorts of memories that certainly did not need to be re-lived by having to revisit these places. William had chosen to take the top two floors on his own, his legs still more stable after all of this stress than she was feeling.
Lydia had been tasked with the first floor and the basement. She ran from room to room, slamming open the doors and calling out Weston’s name so loudly that her throat was starting to feel raw. It was a surreal feeling that she had in her gut.
She could feel him close, and there was absolutely no justifiable reason for her to think that. Yet, she was convinced that she was growing closer. There had been fresh hoof prints out front according to William. He had said when they arrivedthat there was every reason to believe that somebody had, in fact, come to her property recently.
“Weston!”
She hiked her skirts into her hands and headed down into the basement. The wet, mossy smell of the roof cellar overtaking her for a few moments before turning into the servant’s quarters, all wholly abandoned. She could not stop moving, no matter how her body protested every single movement that she was making.
Finally, voices! She ran toward them, nearly tripping over her own skirts in the process—stopping only when she heard the words more clearly. Cassian. Just as she presumed. It did not matter that she only caught the tail end of their conversation, she was certain that it would be enough proof—but first she needed to get into the room. The latch on the heavy door did not wish to open for her, but she yanked and pulled with all of her might until it swung free.
