Page 72 of The Damsel
“No,” she said, looking to Robert. “I suppose I shouldn’t have.”
She ought to have known he would to go Millicent for help. Her friend was the only person other than Robert who understood the depth of her need for vengeance. Even without knowing exactly what she’d been up to, the two knew her better than anyone—enough to figure out her location and come up with a plan to extract her.
Another man she recognized as Robert’s valet stood nearby with a pistol in hand, silently watching their captives for any sign of trouble
“Now,” Robert said, reaching up to remove his mask and hand it off to his valet. “I am not one for violence, but the two of you sealed your own fates when you made off with Cassandra. After what you’ve done, I cannot allow you to live.”
He used one hand to untie his domino and drape it over the valet’s arm while keeping hold of his pistol. Downing struggled in Peter’s hold, while Stratford seemed to try to speak around his gag.
“We are the real victims here!” Downing insisted, leveling a glare at Cassandra. “She accosted us, beat us, mutilated us! It is she you ought to punish, not us.”
Robert raised an eyebrow at Downing. “She showed you more mercy than I would have. You should have been grateful she left you alive. Now, you’ve compounded your deeds by abducting her.”
Downing’s desperate gaze landed on Stratford, who seemed to try pleading with Robert through the material muffling his words.
“It was all his idea!” Downing declared, angling his head toward the earl. “When we were sharing drinks at White’s, we happened to begin talking about the Masked Menace and discovered we had both suffered the same fate. It was he who suggested we find a way to get our revenge.”
“And which of you decided pushing your wife down the stairs and further injuring her would prove enough to draw me out?” Cassandra accused, stepping closer to Downing.
Irritation flared in his gaze as he stared back at her, a vein in his temple beginning to throb. “She wasn’t supposed to die.”
“If you are as innocent in all this as you claim, you will prove it,” Robert said, before giving his valet a nod.
The man tucked his pistol into the waistband of his breeches, then proceeded to tie her mask around Downing’s face, before draping him in the domino.
“What the devil are you about?” Downing demanded, struggling to get free but finding his strength was no match for Peter’s.
“This man coerced you into this plan,” Robert said with a bored shrug. “His idea led you to kill your own wife by accident, and now you’ve been caught. It is all his fault, isn’t it?”
Downing gaped as Peter released him, before the valet offered the gun. The man seemed uncertain how to proceed, leery of the pistol being presented to him so freely.
“The Menace came upon Stratford on the road and killed him,” Robert declared watching Downing’s face closely, hand clenched around his own pistol. “That is what we, your witnesses will say if anyone asks us what happened this night. No one ever need know it was you. And if you kill the man responsible for kidnapping and hurting the woman I love … I will spare your life.”
Cassandra tightened her hand around the dagger and lumbered forward. “Like hell you will.”
Robert blocked her progress with an outstretched arm, but kept his gaze fixed on Downing. On the ground, Stratford began to struggle, falling onto his side, unable to right himself with his hands tied behind his back. He inched along the road like a worm, weeping and mumbling behind his gag, pleading for his life.
“Trust me, Cass,” he whispered so only she could hear. “You will have your moment, and you will know when it is right.”
Still glaring at Downing, she lowered her hand and the dagger with it. He was right. She’d done things her way and gotten herself into this mess. It was obvious he’d given this all a great deal of thought, and thus far his plan was working.
“How do you know I won't simply use this pistol to kill you all?” Downing asked, still reluctant to accept the gun.
He kept staring at Stratford, who continued trying to work his way across the ground away from them. He hadn’t gotten far.
“There is only one bullet in it,” Robert told him, before raising his own gun. “Mine has six shots. If you point that thing at anyone other than Stratford, I’ll fill you with holes before you can squeeze off your one shot.”
Downing’s gaze flitted back to Robert, then Stratford, then the gun. The earl wept without shame now, his muffled pleas going ignored by everyone present. Cassandra held her breath and waited for someone to make the first move, and either throw the entire thing into chaos or put it all to an end.
“You have ten seconds to decide before I shoot you both,” Robert snapped, his words edged with impatience. “Ten … nine … eight … seven …”
“Sorry, old chap,” Downing muttered before snatching the gun from the valet’s hand.
He raised it and fired in a matter of seconds, the bullet striking true and landing between Stratford’s eyes. The earl went still and silent, his last breath coming out on a panicked wail.
Downing dropped the gun and grinned, seeming pleased with himself for working his way out of his little conundrum. But, he did not notice Robert turning to look at her, the grim expression on his face as he whispered the only thing Cass needed to hear.
“Now, Cass.”
