Laurel McKee by Countess of Scandal

Author:Countess of Scandal
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

It was the crystalline crash of broken glass that tore Will out of his shallow sleep.

For an instant, he thought it was just another dream, brought on by his mother’s hysterical fears and wild tales. But then he heard it again, the distant crackle of a breaking window downstairs.

He swung out of bed, still fully dressed, and reached for the loaded pistol he kept ready. Eliza’s portrait sat next to it on the dressing table, her dark eyes watching him steadily.

“Not this time, Eliza” he muttered, swiping the portrait into a drawer. He could not think of her now. He hurried out of the bedchamber, standing poised on the staircase landing as he listened for any other sound. Less than one day home and it felt like an eternity. At least his mother slept now; tomorrow she would leave.

He had boarded up most of the windows that afternoon, and the house seemed a darkened cave, lit only by one lamp on a pier table outside his door. Obviously, trying to secure the house in any way was a futile endeavor, but the physical activity distracted him as he listened to his mother fretting.

Only when his muscles burned from the exertion and sweat trickled down his spine did he lose himself for a moment. His other work, trying to find useful information for the authorities, was no distraction at all. As he had warned Hardwick, he had no spying instincts, no acting skills. He had not been home in years, and no one would tell him a thing. The servants were all silent, stony, shrugging away all questions.

Which was a relief actually. He was a soldier, not a spy, and he disliked dealing in any underhanded methods. But was his work, his very identity, getting him into too much trouble now?

And trouble in his family’s house. He crept lightly down the stairs, holding on to the pistol. All seemed silent now, and there was no whiff of smoke. Had he merely imagined it after all?

But, no, there it was again. The faint music of glass falling to the floor, coming from the library, where they had first tried to burn his mother out. Well, by God, they were not going to burn him out. He had as much right to be in Ireland as they.

Carefully, he eased back the library door, peering inside as he held the gun at the ready.

It was very dark, all the windows boarded except the small decorative frosted glass panels at the top. The panels were, or had been, etched with the Denton family arms. Now they were shattered, as if the attackers were frustrated they could get no closer to the large windows.

Will’s senses were heightened as they always were in battle. Now he could hear running footsteps on the gravel outside and could smell the hint of smoke at last.

He took off running down the corridor and through the foyer, under the sway of the crystal chandelier. He threw back the bolt of the front door, rushing out onto the front steps as a strange recklessness took hold of him.

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