Page 88 of The Rise of a Forsaken Lady
He laughed coldly, “All these years of asking and now she calls me by my name.”
“Please,” she cried while inching toward him and the unsuspecting horse. “Please, do not do this.”
“Marry me,” he ordered.
She swallowed. Choose him to release Bessie or choose Bessie to set her free. “Stephen, please. She had nothing to do with this.”
He turned to look at her, “Are you saying yes, then?”
Penelope nodded, but a tad too long and Hillbrook tutted. “No, you’re not.” He cocked the gun and the click of the safety sounded like a gong to her ears.
“Stephen—”
The sound of the bullet slamming into Bessie’s head, right between her eyes had Penelope screaming, a high agonized sound of pure horror. Her heart—or what was left of it—pounded in her chest.
She fell to the ground blinded by a flood of tears while Hillbrook just dropped the gun to his side and kicked the bleeding horse’s head to the side like a bucket of slop.
“I did not want to do that,” he said with a downturn of his lips. “But you forced my hand.”
Penelope’s breath was static in her lungs, sharp and bitter. Bessie’s eyes were blank and her chest still. Her beloved horse was dead. Dead! Shuffling forward on her knees, she reached out and touched the bloodied head finding it inconceivable that Bessie was dead. The warm blood was pungent evidence of it.
“B-Bessie…” She groaned through her tears. “I am so sorry…”
Hillbrook only sidestepped her, “Which one of you is next?”
She looked up to see the Baron holding his gun to Duke, and she shot to her feet, lunging herself at him to wrench the weapon away. “No!”
She was easily pushed off, “Why is this one so special to you, hm.”
“Because, I gave him to her,” a familiar voice from her dreams was suddenly in the air.
Heath was standing at the door with a pistol aimed at the Baron. “Give it up, Russell. You’ve been found out. Drop the gun and let Penelope go.”
“So, it’s Penelope to you,” Hillbrook sneered. “I always knew there was something off about you, footman. Who are you?”
“An Agent of the Crown,” Heath spoke assuredly. “Your lies are being unraveled, Hillbrook. You are broke, and only the money by that investment with Duke Stratham is your daily bread. You will not get anything from Theodorvon derRecke, even if you marry Lady Penelope.”
A vein bulged in the Baron’s cheek, “He will. Stratham assured me of it.”
“Stratham is tricking you,” Heath said while inching near. “Do you really think a Duke is going to share any wealth with a lowly Baron? He will throw you under a trampling horse the moment he gets what he wants.”
“You don’t know that,” Hillbrook said while the wavering in his eyes said differently.
“You are only a pawn in his game of chess,” Heath said. “Think about it.”
“Lies,” the Baron snapped. “We have it all agreed to, I get the Duke’s contacts by marrying Penelope and he will dispose of Allerton to make it easier. If I got my way, Dawson would rot in prison for the rest of his life, but Stratham sees it best to kill him.”
That had Penelope’s head snapping up. “K-kill him? You’d kill him? My brother was your best friend for…years, and you would kill him?”
Hillbrook was nonplussed. “Sacrifices have to be made, My Lady.”
“A sacrifice? You would sacrifice another human being for what…money?”
“Untold riches,” Hillbrook clarified. “But I think this diatribe had gone long enough.” The moment he released the safety and pulled the trigger, Heath’s shot clocked him in the shoulder.
Enraged, Hillbrook dropped the gun and launched himself at Heath. He tackled the agent, slamming his opponent’s body against a wall, and with Heath’s quick response, they both fell to the ground. The pistol clattered to Penelope’s feet, and she yelped at the hit.
Hillbrook broke away from Heath, and the Baron reached for something in his boot. Heath thrust both his hands out, nearly blocking the Baron’s blade swooping downward in a murderous arc. Penelope’s heart was in her throat as the lethal point of Hillbrook’s weapon hovered inches above Heath's throat.
