“Mad? I have almost succeeded and will succeed in getting all I want, all I have wanted for a very long time. How is that mad? That is intelligence, you silly girl. That is cunning and skill.”
“It is madness when one leaves behind her a trail of the dead. It is madness when you think you have some right to what was never yours or could be yours, not by birth or blood. That is just base thievery.”
“A trail of the dead? You exaggerate.”
“Oh, I do not think so. But you have failed to rid yourself of all witnesses and that will help to bring your murderous games to an end.”
“I have not failed. Not yet. There is still time. I will even find Jenson. If he proves elusive, I have a way to draw him back into my grasp.”
“And just what would that be?”
“His brother and his family plus the little bastard he bred on my maid.”
“Ah, yes, your favorite threat. Do as I need you to or I shall kill your family. Do not defy me or I will cut your baby’s throat.” Primrose thought about Jenson (a man who had been called Saint Jenson by the other servants and not always in a flattering way), the maid, and the baby. “You set your maid on him.” She had to wonder if the woman ever stopped plotting.
“I did. It worked very well for I always knew what Rufford was doing and was able to stop the fool most of the time. Ending his many idiotic plans all too often took time away from my own or this would have been finished years ago.”
“When I realized what a murderous bitch you were, I was surprised you had let him live.”
“He has to be named the baron first.”
“Ah, of course. How silly of me to forget. He is still useful to you. And, yet, you see no madness behind all of this.” Primrose shook her head.
“You will not stir me to attack you. I have worked for years to get even this close to what I seek. I will not allow you to push me into doing something foolish now.”
“And killing off an entire family is not foolish. What a mealy-mouthed word. It is evil, Augusta. It is depraved. You killed my mother and the child she carried. You killed my father who had only ever helped you and his idiot of a brother. You even killed my dog! Now you intend to kill me and my brother.”
“I do not intend to kill you. I am giving you a husband.”
“You are killing me. That depraved man, a man banned from society, which is overflowing with depraved and sinful people, because even they consider him too nasty to share a ballroom with, has the pox. From what I can see he is riddled with it and very close to madness and death. So, yes, Augusta, you are trying to kill me and make certain I never bear a child who might one day have the power to take back all you have stolen.”
“Do not be so ridiculous. Edgar does not have the pox.”
Primrose noted not only the familiarity her aunt used in speaking of Sir Edgar Benton but also that the woman had gone a little pale. “When did you bed down with him?”
“He does not have the pox!”
“If it was a long time ago, you might be safe. If he used a sheath, then you are safe. You would also be showing signs of the disease by now just as he does. Of course, this mad, bloody quest you are on could very well be a sign in itself.”
“You will cease talking about that. Edgar does not have the pox.”
Primrose shrugged. “I am the one who deals in potions and salves, if you recall. To do that well you need to understand about injuries and diseases. The man does have the pox. And, even if I am wrong, which I am not, it is still killing me for he will eventually beat me to death as he did his other wives.”
“That is just evil gossip.”
“I cannot believe someone like you managed to kill my mother and father and no one caught you.”
“Your mother’s death was an accident.”
“That is what Edgar said about both of his wives.”
Augusta ignored her. “Your mother goaded me and I lost my temper. The next thing I knew she was lying at the bottom of the stairs and everyone was yelling for your father.”
“My mother goaded you? The woman everyone who ever met her called sweet, shy, and quiet, goes from being a ‘gentle soul’ as people were fond of calling her to suddenly becoming a woman who goads you, or anyone, into a murderous temper? No, Augusta, your temper was already on the rise when you confronted her, afraid she might be breeding the all-important spare. More obstacles, more time to spend in slithering up the path to be called by a title you never earned.”
The slap came so quickly, Primrose had no time to avoid it in even the smallest way. Pain seared the entire side of her face and the back of her head slammed into the hard wooden back of the chair. For just a moment she thought she would lose consciousness. Her vision wavered and she closed her eyes to fight back a wave of nausea. She wanted to give in to the blackness trying to flow over her mind but fought it. She knew it would not be safe to be unconscious before Augusta.