She went downstairs and roused a servant, then called for her carriage. It came surprisingly quickly. It was only after she’d gone out the door that she realized it wasn’t her carriage waiting for her at the bottom of the steps. She paused, but before she could react, someone stepped behind her and she felt a hard object shoved into her side.
“There you are, my dear,” said the voice she’d grown to loathe. “I knew you couldn’t resist going to the duel.”
Count Durand. Oh, Lord. Her heart jumped into her throat. Damn him, damn him, damn him. “And I knew you would cheat,” she said, fighting for calm. “So we apparently know each other well.”
“Better than you can imagine.” When she caught her breath, he added, “And I wouldn’t scream, if I were you. I’ll shoot you where you stand.” He nudged her with the hard object to make his point.
“You always were a bully.” As she fumbled to release her knife pendant from the chain, her mind raced. She needed to throw him off guard, buy some time until she could get the pistol away from her side long enough to stab him. “You’re like your cousin—always running roughshod over women.”
A long silence followed before he rasped, “Do not speak ill of a man you know nothing about.”
“I know he raped me.” She palmed her pendant. “He held me down and forced himself on me.”
“That’s a lie!” he hissed. “He was my closest friend in the world once. Then you incited your brother with your lies, and like that, he was murdered. I’ve seen you flirt, seen you entice men. I know what kind of woman you are. Why should he bother to rape a whore like you?”
Anger roiled up in her. “Would a whore keep you at arm’s length the entire time you were courting me? No. He was evil and you are just as evil, and I don’t deserve this.”
“Shut up!” he growled. “You have a choice. Get in the carriage. Or die.”
Her blood faltered. “You’ll just kill me anyway.”
“Not if you tell me where your brother is. We’ll go see him together.”
“And you’ll kill us both. No, thank you.” If he would move the pistol long enough for her to jab at him . . . “You know my husband won’t stop until he destroys you.”
Count Durand snorted. “There’s little chance of that.”
Another voice came from the shadows behind the carriage. “There’s more chance than you realize.”
Edwin. Thank heaven!
Catching her about the waist, Count Durand jerked her up close to him. “I’ll kill her, Blakeborough. I swear I will.”
“And then what? You’ll lose your chance at her brother.”
Edwin stepped out of the shadows, and she nearly had heart failure. “He has a gun, my love! Don’t come any nearer!”
Ignoring her, Edwin moved more into the light. “You’re not fool enough to murder a peer’s wife in cold blood, Durand. You’d hang for it.”
“You don’t know a damned thing,” Count Durand hissed. “I don’t care if she dies. I’ll find Margrave somehow. Even if I only wait for him to come after me to revenge his sister.”
“You won’t have to wait for him.” Edwin lifted a hand and she saw a pistol in it. “Kill her and you die. It’s as simple as that.”
That seemed to give Count Durand pause, for she could feel his gun waver against her side. “Or you could let us both leave,” he snarled, “and I’ll allow her to live.”
Clarissa suppressed her snort of disbelief even as she opened the leaf knife. Durand wouldn’t get away with his perfidy if she had anything to say about it. She just needed the right moment.
Edwin’s gaze swung to her and dropped ever so briefly to her hand. He knew what she meant to do. And was ready.
All of a sudden, Count Durand’s coach started driving away.
“What are you doing?” the count shouted at the driver. “Damn you, man, come back!”
In that moment, while his attention was distracted and the gun had left her side, she jabbed up at his pistol arm and fell to the ground without even waiting to see his reaction.
Then Edwin shot him through the heart.
A short while later, Clarissa sat in her drawing room as the household erupted around her. Edwin and Warren, who’d been the one to unseat the driver of Count Durand’s carriage and drive it off, were deep in discussion with Lord Fulkham, who’d just shown up. Footmen and servants were running about following orders occasionally barked at them by Edwin.
There was a dead body on the steps, after all. It had to be dealt with.
All she could do was sit there frozen as she listened to the discussion.
“I’ll take care of this, Blakeborough,” Lord Fulkham was saying. “The man was trying to abduct your wife. By the time I get through with the French ambassador for allowing Durand free rein to torment English citizens, they will be happy to keep the matter quiet. It may not even go to a trial.”
“Even if it does,” Warren said, “your servants are witnesses and we have Durand’s coachman, who will testify to the truth of it if he knows what’s good for him. Or Fulkham can have him charged as an accessory.”