A Kiss With Scandal (Scandals & Secrets 4) Page 11

  The woman gasped as the man continued, “But I wouldn’t enjoy it any more than walking into the Thames with stones sewn into my clothes.”

  Charlotte gasped, all blood draining from her face.

  Derek gripped her arms, worried she’d faint. “What’s wrong?” he whispered.

  “It’s—it’s him.”

  “Him?”

  She nodded, her eyes round. “It’s the man. From the Leatherbys’ sitting room. It’s him. It’s—” Her words choked off.

  Cold rage flowed through him. He didn’t try to fight it, but allowed it to coat his resolve. This was the villain he’d searched for. The man who’d hunted Charlotte. Who’d terrorized her for weeks. “Will you be all right?” he asked, needing her to be. If the man left before he was able to intercept him, he’d be lost again.

  She nodded with a shaky breath. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Return to the party immediately after I’m gone.” Taking note of her loose hair, he dismissed the faux pas. It couldn’t be helped. Most at this celebration already knew he hadn’t the strength to resist his bride. Let them talk.

  “All right.”

  He squeezed her once, but his focus riveted on the man and the desire to pummel him.

  He stepped onto the path, watching as the man and woman embraced in a passionate kiss. The sight only further hardened his resolve. “Forgive me,” he said, watching the masked duo jump apart. The woman shrieked, twirling away from his gaze.

  The man only glared through the black fabric secured over his eyes, effectively concealing his identity.

  “I realize this isn’t the best moment, but I require a word with you.”

  “With me?” the man asked with a snort. “I highly doubt there is anything you need from me at this moment, sir.” He sneered.

  “Oh, you couldn’t begin to imagine. However, I insist.”

  “And just who are you to insist?” Derek removed his mask, and the man’s eyes widened. “Forgive me, my lord. I didn’t recognize you.”

  Derek nodded, but only to keep the man calm. “I need you to come with me. Now.”

  The man’s eyes shifted down the path, and Derek hoped he would run. Taking him by force might alleviate some of the tension stewing within him.

  Finally, the man nodded. “Of course.” He walked down the graveled path back toward the house.

  “Excuse me, my lady.” Derek bowed in her direction. “Do enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  She didn’t say anything as he left. Only kept her back turned. Perhaps she’d learned a lesson tonight as well.

  As they walked along the edge of the courtyard, he signaled to Henry to follow him, and led the man deep into the house, to a place he hadn’t taken Charlotte. To a place no one would hear them.

  Chapter 15

  Charlotte waited until the woman left before heading back to the crowd. She wasn’t sure if Derek had known who the couple was, but Charlotte had spent enough time with other debutantes that she easily recognized Miss Elizabeth Mulberry. She’d known the girl was getting desperate to snag a husband, but now Charlotte only felt sorry for her.

  After securing her hair, she stepped into the courtyard, eyeing the crowded floor with unease. A loud laugh shot shivers up her arms. The man, whoever he was, had been here the whole time. He had to have been. They’d had too much trouble for him to be a new arrival.

  And Daisy...

  Charlotte swallowed hard. She couldn’t think of it now. But how could she not have known who he was sooner? Their group hadn’t been that large. She had to have seen him, heard him several times since they’d retired to the country.

  She might have been able to prevent...

  No. She pressed her lips together. Derek was with him now. If anyone could get the information they needed, it was he. Soon, hopefully, this would all be over.

  “Lady Charlotte, I’ve been searching everywhere for you.” The widowed Lady Norland stepped next to her with a timid smile. “Your mother has been looking for you.”

  “Oh, I stepped away to the convenience for a moment. Thank you for telling me.” Her eyes met Lady Norland’s concerned gaze.

  “My dear, are you well?”

  Charlotte took a cleansing breath of the rose-perfumed garden beyond the pavers. “Perfect, thank you.” She forced a smile. “Just a bit tired from all the merriment.” The lady nodded in agreement, but Charlotte wasn’t sure if the woman actually believed her. “Do you happen to know where my mother is?”

  “Yes, I do. I’d be happy to take you to her, if you’d like.”

  “Please. Thank you.”

  Lady Norland gave her another small smile, the skin on her temple pulling even tighter against her severe coiffure before leading her across the group and around the far corner of the house. Few guests lingered here, and the lights of the party faded.

  “My mother is over here?”

  “Inside, actually. I thought it’d be easiest to enter through the library. The entryway off the garden is quite crowded, and I thought this would be the fastest.” She paused. “Would you rather go the other way?”

  Charlotte shook off her unease. She was being ridiculous. “No. This is all right.”

  “Okay. Follow me.”

  Her anxiety built as they neared the library door. The terrace was completely dark, only lit by the soft glow of the moon. No conversation filled the air. “Are you sure my mother is in there? Perhaps she’s rejoined the group already. We should head back and check.”

  Her heart hammered in her chest. Something wasn’t right. She shouldn’t be here. She swung around and lifted her skirts, ready to run.

  Lady Norland sighed heavily a moment before she cocked a pistol. Charlotte froze.

  “I was hoping to avoid a scene, Lady Charlotte.”

  Charlotte gasped. Gone was the demure, mousy voice of Lady Norland. Charlotte turned slowly to face the person whose voice she remembered from that horrible night in the Leatherbys’ sitting room.

  Lady Norland was indeed standing before her, but if she hadn’t known that a moment ago, she’d never guess that this confident woman was one and the same. Chin raised, rounded shoulders straightened, Lady Norland proved powerful, daring, and dangerous. Every bit the deadly woman Charlotte had overheard at the Leatherbys’ ball.

  Lady Norland waved the gun toward the door. “Inside.”

  Charlotte’s eyes glanced to the barrel, but she didn’t move. Her thoughts raced to everything Derek had taught her, but drew a blank on what to do. She couldn’t outrun a bullet.

  Derek’s derringer weighed heavily in her pocket. Awkward. No way could she reach for it, not with the pistol Lady Norland had aimed inches from her heart.

  Lady Norland’s head tilted. “I’m not playing here, my dear. I’ll shoot you where you stand if you don’t do as I say.”

  Charlotte gulped and moved toward the door. In that moment, she knew she was going to die, and with that realization came another.

  Derek would never know she loved him.

  Anguish welled in her chest, but it was too late. The Black Dahlia would see to that.

  * * *

  “I’m telling you, I have no bloody clue what you’re talking about!” Lord Acton shouted, wresting against the bonds firmly tying him to the chair.

  “Now, now. We both know that’s not true,” Derek taunted. “I know who you are, Lord Acton. And I know whom you work for. We can make this easy, and you can tell me who the Black Dahlia is, or you can make it hard.” He signaled Henry, who took the opportunity to roll out his interrogation kit.

  The clamps and knives had the desired effect. Lord Acton’s face drained. “She’ll kill me if I talk.”

  “I’ll kill you if you don’t,” Derek said merrily.

  The man whined, only furthering Derek’s disgust of him. He’d been surprised when he’d taken the mask off and realized the man he’d been hunting had been right under his nose, in his house, this whole time. Here sat one of the people responsible for
terrorizing Charlotte, and it was all he could do to keep calm and refrain from ending him.

  There was more to this than revenge. He had a job to do. Remembering that fact was becoming increasingly difficult by the second. Thinking of Charlotte out there at the party, alone, at a time that should have been special for them both, disgusted him. He’d never forget the fear in her eyes in the garden. For that alone, he wanted to hurt Lord Acton.

  Derek circled his prisoner like prey in the bare stone room. “Give me the knife.” Derek held out a palm to Henry.

  “For stabbing or dismembering?”

  “Dismembering. We might as well move this along. I don’t have time to enjoy this,” he said as he had so many times in the past, though torture had never been an enjoyment for him. In truth, it usually never came to that, but in the few instances where it’d been necessary, it had always left him sick. He wasn’t so sure about it this time. Part of him, one he wasn’t proud of, wanted to hurt Lord Acton. Wanted to make him scream, to make him fear. If only so he’d know an ounce of what Charlotte had suffered.

  Henry placed the blade in Derek’s hand. “I’m going to make this easy for both of us. You can tell me what I want to know, and you can walk out of here in once piece. Or I’ll start cutting bits and pieces of you until you beg to tell me. And even then, I might not stop. It’s your choice.”

  Silence remained.

  “Very well, then. It makes no difference to me.” He gripped Lord Acton’s hand by the leather-bound restraining strap, positioning the blade at the base of his pinkie where it met his hand.

  “Wait! Wait, I’ll tell you,” Lord Acton squealed.

  “Tell me, then.”

  “It’s Lady Norland. Lady Norland is the Black Dahlia.”

  Shock and disbelief warred through Derek. “Lady Norland. The widow. She’s the Black Dahlia? I’m supposed to believe that mouse of a woman, who’s afraid to even stand up to Lady Pembroke, is responsible for selling England’s secrets to France? For hundreds of deaths?”

  Lord Acton broke out in a sweat. “I swear to you. It’s her. That’s how she’s gotten away with it, how she’s avoided suspicion. No one would suspect the timid widow of a powerful diplomat. She hated that man. She’s obsessed with destroying his legacy. She wants to obliterate everything he accomplished.”

  As the truth of his words sank in, dread filled Derek’s stomach. It made sense, everything Lord Acton had said, in a way. He’d known Lady Norland for years now, but she was the last person he’d suspect. She’d played it all perfectly. Everything.

  Including her supposed friendship with Charlotte.

  And she was here tonight, at their engagement party, had been living under his roof. “If you’re lying about this, I swear I will come back here and cut off something even more dear than your finger.”

  Lord Acton’s mouth opened and closed. “No! I swear. It’s the truth. She’s who you’re looking for. She’s the one.”

  There was much more Derek needed to know, but with every second he wasted interrogating Lord Acton, unease crept over him. He’d made a mistake in assuming only one of Charlotte’s attackers lingered to do her harm. He’d underestimated them, and by doing so, he’d left Charlotte alone, vulnerable to harm. Every moment he was here with Lord Acton was one where she could be killed.

  His heart hammered in full panic. “Secure him and find me once it’s done.” Derek bolted for the door. He needed to find Charlotte.

  Chapter 16

  Charlotte shifted warily as the Black Dahlia closed the drapes against the night. She couldn’t think of her as Lady Norland. Lady Norland would always be a kind, timid soul. Not the killer before her.

  She eyed Charlotte. “So, you know who I am.”

  “Yes.”

  The woman shook her head sadly. “It’s a pity. You were always kind to me. Not many were.”

  “Lady Norland was a sweet woman.”

  The Black Dahlia shrugged, the deep burgundy taffeta of her skirt whispering with the movement. “It hadn’t seemed to matter. Regardless of her temperament, most mocked and despised my Lady Norland persona. I don’t blame them. She was a spineless woman who deserved every ounce of disdain her husband bestowed upon her.” She laughed viciously. “He got what was coming to him in the end.”

  Charlotte gasped. “You killed your own husband?” The hair on the back of her neck rose.

  “Of course.”

  “But,” Charlotte spluttered. “How could you do that?”

  Another chuckle. “Easily, my dear. Very, very easily. He was a weak man who thought it right to physically vent his frustrations on his wife.”

  Sickness curdled Charlotte’s stomach. “You don’t mean…”

  The Black Dahlia’s eyes hardened. “I mean in every possible way. With his fists. In the bedroom. As long as there were no witnesses, he believed it his right to take his aggression out on me.” A haunted laugh escaped her lips. “But I got him in the end. It was I who ultimately took my aggression out on him. The bastard didn’t see it coming.”

  Charlotte gaped. What Lady Norland’s husband had done was inexcusable. Disgusting. He deserved to die for treating a woman so poorly, but never would Charlotte have murdered him.

  The Black Dahlia shifted her weight, almost bored. “Now, I’m sorry to do this. You really are a gracious young lady, but I have to kill you. I cannot let you identify me.”

  Charlotte shifted toward one of the tables lining the room, palming a silver candlestick behind her. “You don’t have to do that. I won’t ever tell what I know. I won’t identify you. You can leave here now. There’s nothing gained by my death. In fact, if you kill me now, even more suspicion will be on you.”

  “Clever, my dear.” She nodded in appreciation. “You’d make an excellent partner, but I could never trust another enough for a partnership. No, unfortunately, you must die, along with the knowledge you possess.”

  Charlotte’s grip loosened from the candlestick as Derek stepped from the bookshelf passage, his gun trained on his prey. Relief and fear mingled in her at his presence. He would protect her, but doing so put his own life at risk.

  “If you hurt her in any way, I’ll kill you.”

  The Black Dahlia rolled her eyes as if unafraid of Derek’s presence. “Oh, come now, Viscount Lawrence. This doesn’t concern you. You should have stayed out of this. Unfortunately, you won’t leave this room alive.”

  “Are you all right?” he asked Charlotte without glancing at her. His gaze, and aim, never left his target.

  Be careful! “Yes. She hasn’t hurt me.”

  His target scoffed. “You’re trying my patience. You wouldn’t shoot me.” Her eyes blinked, and suddenly the Widow Norland emerged, morphing so quickly Charlotte was forced to blink. “Would you?”

  Derek’s jaw clenched. “Lady Norland was a decent, good woman. You’re not. I believe we both know that, Black Dahlia.”

  “Ah.” A wide smile curved her lips, and quick as a whip, the Black Dahlia reemerged. “So, I see I underestimated you as well. You aren’t who you appear. To think, after all this time, after all the foiled deals, it was you hounding my heels. For years you’ve caused me a lot of trouble. I think I’ll enjoy watching you die.”

  “I’d like to see you try. You know a bullet won’t stop me.”

  “Yes. I can see that.” She shrugged. “But then, I don’t think that will matter.”

  Sweat moistened Charlotte’s brow. She couldn’t just stand here and let the Black Dahlia shoot Derek. There had to be something she could do.

  Inching her hand into her skirt pockets, Charlotte hooked her fingers around the derringer’s handle. She secured it in her grip and eased it into the open, taking aim at her enemy.

  The murderess turned her gun on Charlotte so fast she wasn’t able to scream before both the Black Dahlia’s and Derek’s shots fired.

  One bullet missed, burrowing into one of the shelves a few inches from Charlotte’s heart. The Black Dahlia screamed as blo
od oozed from a bullet wound in her arm. She launched a knife at Derek, the blade sinking into his shoulder.

  “Derek!”

  The doors flew open as Henry ran in. Derek cursed when Lady Norland ran through the terrace doors. “Get her! I’m fine!”

  Henry obeyed, running into the night toward his prey.

  Charlotte cried out, dropping the pistol and scrambling over to Derek. “Are you all right? The blood…”

  Derek gritted his teeth. “I’ll be fine. It didn’t hit anything important.” He gripped the handle and pulled it out of muscle. More blood rushed from the wound.

  Charlotte ripped her dress, pressing the fabric against the flowing blood. “What else can I do?”

  “We’ll need to stitch it.”

  “I can fetch my kit,” she choked out. “I can do this.”

  “Wait.” Derek swayed. He eyed the knife, holding the blade beneath his nose, and inhaled deeply. His eyes locked onto hers. “Poison.”

  “It’s poisoned?” Dizziness swamped her with such a rush she nearly blacked out. “No. It can’t be.”

  “It is. Potent,” he said grimly, sinking to the floor. “Listen, I only have about five minutes until…”

  She clutched his coat, panic filling her. She couldn’t do this. “Where’s Henry? I can get him. He’ll know what to do.”

  “No time.” He gritted his teeth against a spasm. “You must choose the right antidote.”

  “Which poison is this? You must tell me which antidote. Derek!”

  He coughed. “Cyanide. Or arsenic. I can’t smell… well enough…”

  “Derek! Stay with me. Don’t you dare die!”

  His body heaved a moment before passing out. The shaking started a second after that. She wanted to stay with him, brace him in her arms, but she didn’t dare. The clock was ticking.

  She entered the chilled passage at a run, not slowing until she entered the poison room. The various colored jars swirled in front of her. He’d taught her this. He’d taught her what she needed to do, and she couldn’t fail him. She wouldn’t.