How could he be such a coward? How could he abandon her with no word of apology? He loved her, damn it! He loved her and he’d fought for her. He loved her and he’d take revenge on the man who’d dared lay a hand on her.
He shoved himself to his feet and took off for Granville House at a dead run. The duke would help him. He must help him. If he felt even half of what Avery did for Leah, then he’d tear hell apart in his bare hands to get revenge on Prachett.
The meek valet had disappeared, but Prachett had finally woken the sleeping monster that had lain dormant within Avery for so long.
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Twenty-Nine Smythe answered Avery’s knock on the area door.
“Russell.” A smile stretched the butler’s lips. “You’ve returned?”
“Only for a moment, Smythe.” Avery set his bag down by the door and removed his coat. “I must speak with His Grace. Is he at home?”
Smythe shook his head. “No, he has not yet returned from Lady Chesterfield’s home. I have not yet informed him of your decision to leave us.”
“Thank you, Smythe. I will speak with him myself.”
Avery mounted the stairs.
The door to His Grace’s bedchamber squeaked softly as it opened. Avery stepped inside, his spine straight and his heartbeat steady. He wasn’t surprised to see Prachett rise from a seat by the fireside.
“You have ruined everything,” Prachett said in a surprisingly calm voice.
Avery prowled closer to him, his knuckles tingling with the need to plow themselves into the man’s jaw.
“You deserve to be ruined. How dare you lay a finger on her?”
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The rage rushed over Avery, and this time he relished the power it brought. He leapt onto Prachett’s back, bringing the thin man to the ground with little effort.
His fist connected with the man’s head. He leapt free as Prachett rolled to his back, snarling.
Avery ducked as Prachett threw a punch of his own. From his lower position, Avery leapt forward, his shoulder landing in the man’s midsection. The two tumbled to the Aubusson carpet, trading blows. Avery’s were practiced and punishing, Prachett’s were well placed and cruel. Rolling to the side to avoid a vicious right, Avery grunted as his lower back connected sharply with the foot of the bureau. Pain rippled through him, but he ignored it, pushing to his feet.
“I’ll have you killed,” Prachett snarled. His face was a mask of crimson, a cut on his forehead seeping blood.
“You dare to touch me? I’ll see you gutted for this.”
“If I die for such a righteous cause, I have not lived my life in vain.” His calm answer covered his approach. Pulling back his arm, he smiled. “This is for Leah.” Avery’s left fist met Prachett’s jaw with a sickening crack. The man stumbled backward, both hands clapped to his now-broken chin. “And this is for me.” Avery’s right fist shot outward, finding its mark in Prachett’s soft belly.
The man doubled over with a cry and then collapsed against the cupboard at the bedside.
Shaking out his stinging knuckles, Avery turned to walk away. He was finished.
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him, glittering shards falling like spring rain onto the
blood-spotted carpet.
The sting of gunpowder burnt his nostrils as he raised disbelieving eyes toward Prachett. The dueling pistol still hung from the man’s fingers, smoke curling lazily from the barrel.
“I said you’d die,” Prachett whispered, smiling with his ruined mouth. He dropped the empty pistol and reached upward into the halfway open drawer. The glint of metal caught Avery’s eye as the man drew a matching gun from the cabinet. “Now do it, worthless brat.”
Avery should have been filled with regret, with sorrow for his actions that had brought him to this untimely end. But as Prachett leveled the pistol at him, all the valet could think of was her.
Leah. His angel.
She’d freed him of his torment after all.
Even as he turned to run, he knew it was futile. At this range, the man would not miss twice. When the shot rang out, Avery let himself fall forward.
“I love you,” he whispered into the floor. “Leah, I love you.”
i
Leah stopped suddenly, causing Ella to plow into her. She clutched at her chest, trying to steady the ragged thumping of her heart. Something was wrong.
Something horrible had happened.
“Pawpaw,” she whispered, tears tracking down her cheeks. “No.”
“Leah,” Ella said. “My phone is gone. It was here a second ago.”
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