Her Mystery Duke(96)

A spark. A flash.

Bang!

The sound resonated deep in Jeanne’s bones.

And kept on vibrating.

She whirled to look. There was a hole in Isabella’s forehead. A brilliant red splash marred the white wall. Shock made Jeanne’s legs weak. With effort she locked them. She glanced back at Thérèse. The madwoman had dropped the pistol and knelt on the floor. Tears streamed down her cheeks. “I have murdered my sister. My own flesh.”

“You were protecting me.”

“They will hang me. I cannot wait.”

“Thérèse…what have you done?” Toovey was at Thérèse’s side.

“I have seen justice done. I have protected my protector.”

“This wasn’t about you. It had nothing to do with you.”

“I had to do it.” Thérèse touched Toovey’s face. “Charles, do you understand?”

“No.” He sobbed the word. “You didn’t need him. I would have kept you safe. Always.”

He was gripping a handkerchief to his throat. It was soaked with bright scarlet blood. Jeanne knew it was a surface wound. Her knife had not gone that deep. Yet it looked horrific. He was clearly avoiding looking at Isabella.

“We’ll call a physician for you, Lord Toovey.” Jeanne spoke in a calm tone. Calm with an edge of authority. She didn’t recognize her own voice. She didn’t even know where it came from. “I am sure David must know a way this can be kept quiet, if you agree that you’re no longer sane. That you must be confined for your own personal safety. For the safety of others.”

He looked up at her with eyes full of malice. “There’s a dead noblewoman lying here. That can’t be hushed up.”

Thérèse caressed Toovey’s cheek. “It is all right, my darling boy, I knew the price when I made my decision.”

He shook his head, slow and purposeful. “No, no, no.” He stood. “You shall not pay the price. Let the Whitechapel whore take the blame. She shot Isabella, not you.”

He came at Jeanne.

Jeanne wielded the knife. “I am not afraid to use this!”

He touched his neck and laughed. “Are you going to slice at me again?”

Jeanne walked backwards until her back hit the wall. “I am warning you.” She felt behind her and moved along the wall. “I’ll stab it in your heart!”

“You vicious little common whore. How dare you threaten me?”

Her foot slid down. She’d reached the stairs. She took a quick glance down and put her foot on the first step.

He was leery of her knife for he kept his gaze riveted on it as he moved slowly toward her.

She kept going down the stairs, sideways, like a crab in slow motion. The humor of that registered in some part of her mind that was simply observing the situation. Always observing, even in a moment like this.

Toovey was gaining.

Her heartbeat increased, desperate energy charged her legs. She couldn’t help moving faster. Her ankle twisted and her feet crossed over each other. The stairs seemed to be rushing up to meet her. As she threw out her hands to brace herself, the knife flew and went tumbling down. Her hands landed, hard, on the step. But she kept on tumbling, just as the knife had. She saw the polished marble entryway gleaming in the sunlight.

Clunk!

Her forehead made hard contact with the floor.

White shards of pain exploded inside her skull. Her teeth jammed together. She couldn’t see for a moment. Couldn’t move.

She was caught, lying there, halfway off the stairs.

Something locked about her ankle.

“I have you now.” Toovey’s voice was quiet, calm.

She kicked her legs. Howled with rage.

He took both ankles. Her skirts fell back, exposing her limbs. He parted her legs.

“This is as good a place as any to do the deed,” he said.

“No, no! Don’t do this!” a faint voice cried out from above his head.

Jeanne’s vision was slowly returning. She saw the ghostly white image of Thérèse at the top of the stairs, still crawling, as though her body was too weak to stand or move very fast. The act of shooting Isabella had apparently drained the invalid woman of all energy.

“Be silent, Thérèse, I must do this. I will have my revenge on Hartley. Even you can’t stop me.”

“I’ll hate you forever.” Thérèse sobbed loudly.

Toovey’s grip slacked. He seemed to slump. “Try to understand my position for a change, my darling.”

Jeanne kicked harder, more wildly. Her foot broke free. Her next kick hit his face and propelled her backwards, all the way off the stairs.

He still had one of her legs in his grip. He held firm as his other hand touched the rising red swell on his face. “You bitch! Now you’ll pay!”