Page 80 of The Secret Life of a Lady
But it wasn’t Cavendale’s gun.
The man flew backward and landed heavily on the floor. Half of his head was gone.
Killian barely noticed the knife hilt buried directly in Cavendale’s chest. He only saw Hannah.
She held Alfred’s smoking pistol in a steady hand. Blood was sprayed over her face. She wiped at it, smudging the gore against her cheek. Her hair was in disarray, and her dress was ruined. He’d never seen a more beautiful woman in his life.
She slowly pulled herself into a sitting position, wincing as she cradled her ribs.
‘Are you alright?’ Killian needed to reach her. To hold her in his arms. He used his free hand to work frantically at the knot holding his right wrist to the chair.
‘I’ve been better.’ Hannah’s voice was ragged. She stood up slowly. Stepping over Lord Cavendale’s body, she paused to reach down, grab the dagger, and pull it from the dead man’s chest with a swift jerk and a hissing breath.
Wiping the blade on her skirt, she walked over to Killian. Carefully lowering herself to her knees, she continued cutting the tie binding his ankle. ‘I told you I would get my knife back. You have a steady aim, even with your left hand. It would have saved me.’
Killian stopped trying to untie his wrist. He brushed a tangle of hair away from her face and lifted her chin with his finger. ‘But not me. He would have shot me before he fell. You saved my life.’
‘Of course, I did.’ Hannah’s amber eyes filled with tears and her lips trembled. ‘I love you, Robert Killian. I’m so very glad you aren’t dead.’ She reached for him, crushing her mouth against his.
For a moment, the world distilled to Hannah’s soft lips, her sweet warmth, her salty tears, and the scent of orange and vanilla.
He pulled away to look at her. ‘You say the sweetest things.’
The next few hours were a flurry of surreptitious activity. It seemed prudent to keep as much hidden from the guests as possible. With the help of Drake and Lady Philippa, they were able to move both bodies into a cold room in the kitchen cellar. They created a story of murder/suicide for the public. It would not look good for the family, but it was better than the truth. After Hannah cleaned up and carefully re-donned her grey gown, it was decided she and Lady Philippa would break the news to Ivy.
Hannah dreaded the moment. As horrific as the evening was, telling Ivy both her brother and father were dead seemed impossibly cruel. But Hannah would not shy away from it. It was her duty. Even in a situation such as this, taking a life was never clean. Innocent people were always hurt.
Hannah asked Millie to join them in Hannah’s room. Ivy would need support, and Hannah doubted she would accept any comfort from Hannah once the truth was shared.
Lady Philippa was vehemently opposed to giving any details. It was troubling enough Cavendale knew about Hannah’s work with the Queen. They didn’t need to create any more suspicion when Ivy could be told the same story as the rest of the beaumonde. But Hannah insisted. She would share as much as she could without betraying their relationship with the Queen. Ivy deserved to hear the truth.
Ivy sat pale and silent through Hannah’s retelling of the evening.
‘Are you sure Alfred was responsible for killing a maid?’
Hannah nodded. ‘He admitted it to us. It was accidental. He only meant to drug her, but…’
‘Why would he drug a maid?’
‘It would seem he had improper intentions with the young lady.’ Philippa gave enough information to let Ivy form her own conclusions. They would not be the correct conclusions, but neither would they be wrong.
When Hannah told her about Lord Cavendale shooting Alfred, Ivy shuddered as if she felt the bullet that ended her brother’s life.
‘Father killed Alfred?’ Ivy’s pale skin drew tight around her lips. Millie sat next to Ivy on Hannah’s bed and gripped her hand.
‘Yes. I’m so sorry, Ivy.’ Hannah bit her cheek, refusing to let the emotions surface.
Ivy’s pale gaze flitted from Hannah to Philippa, finally landing on Millie. ‘I should say I can’t believe he would do it, but…’ Her face crumpled, and she leaned into her friend. Millie wrapped strong arms around Ivy as she dissolved into quiet sobs. It was several minutes before she was able to speak again. ‘And Father, he’s dead too?’
Hannah nodded.
‘How did he die? Lord Cavendale?’ Millie asked.
It was the question Hannah most dreaded.
She swallowed. Straightening her shoulders, Hannah blew out a shaky breath. This was the moment she destroyed her shiny new friendship with Ivy and Millie. But she would not lie to them.
‘I shot him. He was going to kill us. I had no other choice. I’m so sorry, Ivy.’ Her voice broke despite her best efforts, and a tear tracked a hot path down her cheek. Not for the death of Lord Cavendale. But for the pain his loss brought to her friend.
