Page 76 of A Duke Under Her Spell
“No.” The word was so simple and yet with it carried a myriad of threats. Felix’s heart felt as if it might stop in his chest as Lord Enfield lowered the knife to Marybeth’s throat. The red lines from the last time he had done so were still quite fresh and vibrant against the paleness of her skin.
“Do not harm her!”
“She is my daughter. She is mine to do with as I see fit. You, Your Grace, have no say in the matter.”
“You are mad!”
“That I am,” Lord Enfield nodded in agreement. “Life is certainly more interesting that way do you not agree?”
“No, I do not.”
Lord Enfield shrugged his shoulders as if to say that it was Felix’s loss. He acted as if his madness was an asset, an acceptable state of being to be desired by all. Felix could not believe that he had not known of his cruelty sooner. The glint in Enfield’s eyes spoke of a man who cared not for anyone but himself. Felix knew that it was hopeless to attempt to reason with such a man, but he had to try for Marybeth’s sake.
“Marybeth’s fate is not yours to decide as if she were one of your livestock. She is your daughter, your flesh and blood. No matter how she entered this world, is there not some value to you in that shared familial connection? You mourn the loss of your son and heir, Stephen. I saw it with my own eyes. How can you kill another one of your offspring after having just lost one? With what you are doing you will not only lose Stephen, but you will lose all of your sons. Please put the knife down.”
Felix eased forward one small step, his hand outstretched palm up in hopes that the love Enfield held for his sons would cause him to see some small amount of reason. “I care not for the affection of my progeny. My bloodline will go on whether they care for me or not.”
“No, it will not,” Lord Alexander’s voice threatened from the doorway. All seven brothers filed into the library their pistols pointed at their father. “I swear to you here and now, if you harm our sister, we will abstain from ever having children. Your bloodline will wither and die on the vine. There will be naught to remember you but the Devil who will come to take you to Hell.”
Lord Enfield snorted. “You, my sons, are not monks. You will never be able to uphold such a promise.”
Lord Alexander’s brow and lip quirked up in wicked amusement. “You are wrong.”
Lord Enfield paled at the look on his son’s face. “You are my heir. It is your duty to continue the line in your brother Stephen’s stead.”
“And perpetuate your legacy? I would rather watch Enfield burn to the ground than to know for one moment that I had pleased you.”
“You ungrateful…” Lord Enfield took a step forward in anger causing the knife to waver away from Marybeth’s throat. Felix took advantage of the moment and launched himself at Enfield tackling him to the floor.
Felix and Lord Enfield wrestled around for control of the knife. Lord Enfield might have been older, but he was a broad man of great strength. The knife cut Felix’s hand, causing blood to slicken his grasp. Lord Enfield got the better of him and put all of his body weight into pushing the knife down toward Felix’s chest.
“Felix!” Marybeth’s voice cried weakly through the haze of her fever. He was not sure if she was actually awake or dreaming, but her outcry was enough to empower him once more. The thought of what would happen if he were to lose gave him a surge of energy that coursed through the muscles in his body like a coiled spring.
Felix let the knife sink down toward him just enough to bring Lord Enfield’s head within reach. The tip of the blade pricked his skin of his shoulder causing blood to drip down his arm. In one swift motion, Felix twisted his body bringing up his elbow to strike Lord Enfield in the face. The lord reacted bringing his free hand up to protect himself. Felix managed to wrest the knife from his attacker’s hand and brought it up to the lord’s throat.
“I believe this man belongs to you,” Felix remarked to the line of brothers that now encircled them.
Lord Alexander stepped forward placing a pistol to his father’s head. “Get up,” he growled.
Lord Enfield slowly did is bid. “You would not murder your own father,” he argued.
“You underestimate me, Father.”
A glint of pride entered Lord Enfield’s eyes at Alexander’s words. “You are my son.”
A knife flickered into Lord Enfield’s hand from within his sleeve as made ready to stab it into Alexander’s torso. Alexander did not blink. He did not flinch. He simply pulled the trigger. Lord Enfield dropped like a stone onto the library floor. His final expression of gape mouthed surprise imprinted upon his face for all eternity, his eyes gazing sightless up at the ceiling overhead.
Felix rushed forward and took Marybeth into his arms. Her fevered body gave him cause for great alarm. “We must get her fever down,” he informed Alexander. “If we do not, she is sure to die.”
“We need large amounts of cool water,” Alexander stated reaching down to feel his sister’s face.
“The pump by the stables,” Oliver offered. “It pours into a large horse trough.”
Felix lifted Marybeth from the chaise lounge and carried her outside. He walked back behind the stables to the trough in question. Oliver held up a lantern for his master to see by. He lifted the pump handle causing fresh cool water to flow into the trough. Felix stepped into the water and sat down with Marybeth in his arms using his shoulder to hold her head above the surface of the water.
Ripping off his cravat he used it to bathe Marybeth’s face, but it was not enough. Sitting back against the edge of the trough he allowed the cool water to flow from the pump over the top of Marybeth’s head, careful not to allow her airway to be overcome with water.
Lord Alexander came around the side of the stables and stood over them. He gazed down at his sister’s face with a mixture of sorrow and affection. “We have removed Father’s body from the library and loaded it onto the back of his horse. We will take it into the magistrate now. If I am still a free man upon having done so, we will return.”
