Jess watched Regmont’s arm draw back and steeled herself for the blow, refusing to cower.
But before it came, a sickening thud reverberated through the room. She watched, astonished and confused, as Regmont’s eyes rolled back into his head. He crumpled to the floor in a boneless heap.
Startled, she stumbled back. Blood seeped through his blond hair and glistened in the candlelight. A harsh clattering drew Jess’s gaze to the fireplace poker rattling on the floor … dropped from Hester’s lax hand.
“Jess …”
Her gaze lifted. Her sister doubled over with a sharp cry of pain. There was blood at Hester’s feet, coursing down her legs, rapidly forming a spreading pool. No …
Pounding footsteps approached. “Jessica!”
She called out to him as she leaped over Regmont toward Hester.
Alistair appeared, followed directly by Michael. Both men skid to a halt at Regmont’s body. Jessica caught Hester just as her sister’s knees gave out. Together, they sank to the floor.
“Is he dead?” Jess asked as she paced the length of the downstairs parlor. Acheron sprawled beneath the table between the settees, whining softly.
“No.” Alistair came to her, bearing a glass of brandy. “Here. Drink this.”
She looked at the amber liquid longingly, wanting the soothing oblivion of liquor with a ferocity that was nearly undeniable. Her throat was dry and her hands unsteady, symptoms she knew would be alleviated by one small drink, but she found the will to shake her head. She wasn’t going backward. The past was behind her. After tonight, she was newly determined to leave it there.
Her gaze roamed the room. The cheery yellow décor seemed absurd considering the state of the couple who laid claim to it.
“She brained him with the poker,” she murmured, still trying to grasp the enormity of what had transpired and how blind she’d been to the signs of abuse
“Good,” Michael said with vehemence.
Alistair set the brandy down and came up behind her. He caught her shoulders with his large hands, massaging the painfully tight muscles. “The doctor is seeing to your sister first, but he says Regmont will need stitches.”
Jess’s heart broke. “She was despondent before. Now that she’s lost the baby …”
Michael snatched the brandy from the table and tossed it back in one swallow. His hair was a mess from the relentless raking of his fingers, and his dark eyes were haunted.
Finally, Jess saw the love he harbored for her sister. Guilt ate at her like acid. She had steered Hester toward Regmont all the while a man worthy of her was right beneath their noses.
She looked over her shoulder at Alistair. “After we are wed, I would like Hester to stay with us for whatever time she needs. I don’t think she should remain in this house any longer than necessary.”
“Of course.” His beautiful eyes were soft and filled with sympathy and love.
She breathed him in, absorbing the soothing scent of sandalwood and musk with that invigorating hint of verbena. She set her hands over his, grateful for him in so many ways. He anchored her in the midst of chaos, giving her the strength she needed to do the same for Hester.
“In the interim,” Michael said, “you should both reside with me. You have lived in the house longer than I have, Jessica, and the servants are well versed in your needs. It will be familiar to Hester. And my mother is there for now. She can be a great help, too.”
The report of a pistol broke the silence, followed by a bloodcurdling scream. Jess’s stomach lurched. She was running toward the stairs before she knew what she was about. Michael passed her on the first landing, but Alistair stayed with her, catching her arm just before they reached Hester’s room.
Dr. Lyon stood in the gallery, grim faced. He pointed at Hester’s door in front of him. “His lordship went in and threw the latch.”
On the other side of the door, Hester was still screaming.
Panic stole the strength from Jess’s knees, but Alistair held her up. Michael gripped the doorknob and rammed into the paneled wood with his shoulder. The frame creaked in protest, but the lock held fast.
The doctor spoke in a rush, his volume rising with every word. “He was unconscious in his bedchamber when I began the stitching. Then he woke … became enraged … asked after Lady Regmont. I told him to lower his voice, to calm himself. I explained his wife was resting after losing the babe. He went mad … ran from the room … I tried to follow, but—”
Michael rammed into the door again. The doorjamb cracked, but did not give way. Alistair joined him. Together they kicked the portal in unison, and it flew open with a thunderous crack. They rushed inside, followed by the doctor. Jess was swift on their heels, but Alistair pivoted agilely and caught her by the waist, carrying her back out to the gallery.
“Don’t go in there,” he ordered.
“Hester!” she shouted, struggling to look over his shoulder.
He clutched her trembling body close and held tight. “It was Regmont.”
As the possibilities sank in, Jess felt all the warmth leave her limbs. “Dear God. Hester.”