Page 59 of The Dove
Adam came forward now, taking his place at Daphne’s side. The man he’d come to kill proved a pitiful creature, not worthy of his time or his anger. Why had he never been able to see that?
“How did you expect this to happen?” he asked. “Did you think you would get away with any of it? That you could escape the consequences of your actions?”
Bertram glowered at him, his chest heaving with rapid breaths as he took another step backward and found his way impeded by one of the Bow Street Runners. The man had edged around to block the only exit and stared down at Bertram with a slight shake of his head.
“You!” Bertram spat, pointing an accusing finger at Daphne. “I always knew you hated me. You have always been jealous of me for being born a man, an heir,important!”
Beside him, Daphne flinched as if he’d struck her, her lips parting in disbelief. Adam placed a hand at the small of her back to comfort her, even though they both knew this was no fault of her own … that she’d never truly done anything to deserve this.
“Is that what you’ve thought of me all these years?” she asked, hurt apparent in her voice. “I cannot believe you would say such things after how much I loved you, the way I was willing to do anything to save you. Even if you had hurt someone, I would have been willing to forgive you if you were truly sorry.”
Bertram spat at her feet with a sneer. “The only thing I am sorry for is ever having thought you cared for me.”
The Runner took hold of Bertram’s arm, and he flailed away from the man’s hold with a growl.
“Take your hands off me!” he bellowed, making a pitiful sight as he attempted to shrink away from the two large men closing in on him. “I am the son of anearl! You cannot do this to me!”
“Come along now, lad,” the magistrate said with a sigh, stepping forward and motioning for the Runners to get him under control. “It’s to the gaol with you until the trial. Let us be gentlemen about this, eh?”
“No!” Bertram insisted, ducking beneath the swiping arm of the Runner attempting to take him into custody. “No, I will not let you do this! It isn’t right!”
Adam sneered at the man shrinking away from his punishment, sniveling like a little girl, his eyes brimming with tears and his weak chin quivering. He could not believe this pitiful excuse for a man had ever posed any real threat to him. It was all so ridiculous, he almost laughed aloud.
Until Bertram reached into the breast pocket of his coat and came out with a pistol.
The women gasped, backpedaling as Bertram waved his weapon about, his eyes wide and wild with desperation.
“Stay back,” he commanded, pointing the gun at the nearest Runner. “It is loaded, and Iwillshoot!”
Adam’s hand closed around his own pistol, but he stayed himself, knowing that if he could not move fast enough, Bertram would fire before he could even pull his weapon free. He edged forward, using his shoulder to block Daphne from harm.
“Bertram, don’t be a fool,” he said, keeping his voice steady. “It is over. You have lost. Do not make this worse than it has to be.”
The man’s hand shook as he swiveled his weapon to point it at Adam, his nostrils flaring and his lips pinching tight. “This is all your fault. You turned her against me, and you … you … If I must die, then I will take you with me.”
Adam pulled his pistol free just as he realized Bertram’s intent. He lifted it in his right hand, angling his body left to shield Daphne who stood behind him. But then, a pair of hands pressed his lower back, shoving him off balance. He lost his grip on his own weapon, and Daphne’s shrill cry rang out just as the gun went off in Bertram’s hand.
“No!”
Adam fell onto his side on the ground, the wind momentarily knocked from him. All around him, chaos ensued, the women crying out and screaming, the men grunting and groaning as Bertram screamed and bellowed like a madman. He could feel nothing, though surely, he had been shot. Why couldn’t he feel anything?
He rolled onto his back and shook his head, his ears ringing from the gunshot. Then turning his head, his gaze fell upon the prone form of Daphne, lying on the ground a few yards away from him. Her wide, dazed eyes met his, and she shuddered and convulsed, her lips parted on a silent cry.
Blood stained her gown and cloak, spilling over the stones beneath her.
“Daphne,” he rasped, coming up onto his hands and knees and crawling across the space separating them.
Niall approached from the other side, falling to his knees and snatching his cravat free, using it to stifle the flow of blood from the wound in her shoulder. Even in the dark, Adam could see it proved a grievous injury, too close to her chest and likely having struck an artery. She might bleed to death or lose the arm entirely.
“Hart!” Niall bellowed as he knelt there, staring numbly at the woman on the ground, her gaze fixed on him, tears in her eyes. “Hart, she needs a doctor,now!”
He knew that … he did. But he was frozen to the spot, the wind still knocked from him, his stomach in so many knots, he was surprised he did not cast up his accounts. Shaking his head at her, he furrowed his brow, unable to fathom how she could be so foolish … why she would willingly take a bullet meant for him.
Across the room, Bertram fought against the hold of the two men taking him into custody and affixing iron shackles on his wrists. He was practically foaming at the mouth, bellowing to be let go so he could finish it, so he could murder the man who had caused him to shoot his own sister.
Between them on the ground, Adam’s pistol lay, having fallen from his grasp. He could reach it … he could fire it. He had a clear shot. The man had hurt Daphne … he might have killed her. It was an offense he was not willing to forgive.
One shot, and it would all be over. He would have done what he’d come to do in the first place.
