Page 87 of A Lady's Lesson in Scandal
With a frustrated growl, she let the blade drop. She had four others. This wasn’t over yet.
‘I must admit, your aim is better than I expected, especially for a lady. Made it damned difficult to hoist that idiot up with only my left hand. Still, I managed. Couldn’t have him blabbing about the Devil’s Sons, could I?’
‘You work for the Devil’s Sons? Renquist, why?’
He laughed, though it was not a joyful sound. ‘Sometimes, we do things because we must. In the war, I committed untold sins under the banner of patriotism. Now, I do it for my own security. I don’t know why atrocities in war create heroes, but the same actions done for personal gain make men monsters.’ His lips twisted in a grimace. Millie worried he might actually start to cry. She was torn between pity and rage.
Rage won.
‘How could you betray Drake? Killian? The prime minister?’ Millie needed to stall, but she also wanted to know. Drake, Killian, and Renquist had gone through hell together. They were brothers in arms. It made no sense.
‘I told you.’ Renquist took a step closer to her, his golden eyes hardening. ‘Don’t dig into my depths. There is nothing good there. The war took everything from me. As a second son, I don’t have a title to fall back on. Nothing Drake or Killian can do about that. I’ll be damned if I go to my friends for charity. And Prime Minister Russell’s wages won’t hold off my debtors. But the Devil’s Sons have powerful leaders. Leaders who reward their faithful. I’ve always been a good foot soldier. They value my skills. And what else can I do? I’m useless outside of charming silly ladies in a ballroom and killing silly men in a war.’
Millie shook her head. ‘You’re better than this, Reynard. I know it.’
His bark of laughter created a cold shiver of fear down her spine. ‘You know nothing.’ His lips trembled as he shook his head. ‘I was right when I called you Drake’s equal. You are equally matched in the misguided belief that people hold honour higher than personal gain.’
‘Personal gain at the price of your soul?’ Maybe appealing to his eternal damnation would make an impression.
‘My soul was damned the day I put on that bloody uniform.’ A single tear tracked down his face. He swiped it away. ‘My father wanted me to enlist, so I did. He died before I came home. Didn’t even get to tell me how proud he was of his soldier son. And what did all that sacrifice bring me besides one unending nightmare of untold horrors?’
Pity made a second play at Millie’s heart. The man was so broken. So lost. It didn’t excuse his actions, but it did make her ache for him. ‘So, what now? You killed St George because he knew your role in this. Am I next? Would you sink so low as to kill a defenceless woman?’ Hardly true, but she needed to keep him talking until a window of opportunity presented itself to overpower him, or escape.
Reynard’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. ‘I told you. I don’twantto hurt you, Miss Millicent. I didn’t want to hurt any of those poor girls. Wanting something and doing it are very different things. But I have a solution.’ He smiled, and it was like watching someone put on a mask. His face creased into familiar, charming lines, but his eyes were wild. ‘Thanks to your little sleuthing mission, I am now in need of a new girl to deliver to the Devils. You’re older than we like, but you’re also a lady of quality. I bet we could still get a pretty profit. And then I don’t have to kill you. See? Everyone wins.’
Reynard’s version of everyone winning was very different from her own. She had another blade strapped to her left wrist, one on each thigh, and a last strapped to her left ankle. If she could just get him to lower his bloody pistol, she could try to disarm him.
‘And you think I’ll go quietly?’
He shrugged, the pistol shifting with his movements, but still aimed at her torso. ‘It’s the only way, Miss Millicent. Unless you force me to shoot you, and as I said, I really don’t want to do that.’
Anger washed through her, taking the fear and pity away and replacing it with cold purpose. ‘You use your circumstances as an excuse, but in truth, you are just being weak, Reynard. There is a better path, but you turn away because this is easier. You doom helpless women to a life worse than death, all so you can afford your excesses.’
There was a dip in the floor behind Reynard. If she could get him to back up just a step, he would hit it, perhaps lose his balance, and give her the moment she needed.
Reynard broke into sobs, but his pistol never faltered. ‘Yes. I do. And I feel so much shame about it.’ He sniffed, wiping his face again and shaking his head. He cleared his throat, his emotional outburst spent. The man was vacillating so quickly between intense rage, hopelessness, and odd optimism, Millie couldn’t keep up. Perhaps the war had broken more than his honour. Perhaps it had stolen his sanity. ‘And I have suffered too, Miss Millicent. Never doubt that. Perhaps it is selfish, but in the end, I would rather live in comfort. I deserve that after sacrificing so much.’
Fucking arse of a toad!
Wounding him wouldn’t be enough. He was committed to his path. Nothing she said or did would sway him. If she aimed for his left hand, he’d likely rush her. In hand-to-hand combat, she stood little chance against a man his size who knew how to grapple. And he would. Drake would have been sure his men were all well taught in physical combat.
But could she actually take his life? Wounding a man and killing one were very different things. She would only get one chance.
Drake hated being dressed like a doll. He refused the services of a valet for that reason. Instead, he stood in front of the mirror, tying a simple knot in his cravat and glaring at the stubble on his cheeks. He could shave before dinner; there was time. Still an hour yet before he needed to suffer through a tedious meal.
He hated to admit it, but knowing Killian cut his honeymoon short just to stand with Drake as he faced his biggest fear – marriage – warmed him in an area near his heart. It was good to have friends like Reynard and Killian.
A snag caught in his mind as he reflected on their afternoon together in Drake’s study.
Reynard wasn’t left-handed. Drake had forced him to practise shooting with that hand because his right was his dominant. But when he had reached for his whiskey, he used his left hand. In fact, as Drake recalled the details of their time together, he used his left hand exclusively.
Odd.
And the comment he made about Millie. What did he say?
Her knife-throwing skills… How would he know Millie threw knives?
Unless she’d thrown one at him.
