He laughed, cold and sharp. “You think I’m that naïve? No. You’ll stay here until I have what I want. Until your husband gives me what I want.”
“You finally acknowledge him as my husband?” she said dryly.
“I think the two of you are in league together. It no longer matters. One of you has the book, and I shall have it. You’re not leaving until I do.”
“What book?” she said, feigning confusion. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Charity,” he said, stepping closer. “Are you telling the truth? Your father always claimed he shielded you from the world. But I think you’re lying.”
He reached under his coat and drew a dagger from a holster hidden beneath. Her breath caught. The side he pressed against her wasn’t the sharp one, but the dull edge was enough to terrify her as he dragged it along her cheek.
“Tell me the truth, dearest Charity, or I’ll turn this blade and ruin that pretty face. I imagine your husband won’t like that. Thereisa book. Your husband told me so. He implied he had it. But I’d like to hear it from you.”
Eammon had told him? That made no sense. He must be bluffing.
She had to think fast. She needed time. Time for Eammon to come.
She cleared her throat. “There is a book. But you will never have it. Eammon and I have come to an understanding. Now that he has it, he no longer needs me. I am free.”
He paused, skeptical. “So he has it? Well. That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
He withdrew the dagger from her face, but he didn’t put it away. He continued pacing, the weapon swinging casually in his grip.
“He’ll never give it to you,” she said. “I told you, we have agreed. He has the book and I my freedom. He would never exchange it for me.”
“Surely he values your life enough.”
“He does not,” she lied. “I was only useful until he obtained the book. He has what he wants now.”
“Nonsense. Barron!” Markham shouted.
A side door creaked open, and Barron entered. His eyes shifted to Charity, and his discomfort was evident.
“Gabriel, is this wise?” he asked. “She’s a duchess. We could hang for this.”
“We shall not,” Markham replied coolly. “Because soon, we will have everything. Every secret of every high-ranking gentleman in the kingdom. We’ll hold the reins of power. We will send people to the gallows if we wish. Now, send one of your men with a letter to the Duke of Leith.”
“What men?” Barron asked and Markham groaned.
“The men we hired,” he hissed, but Charity could tell it was a ruse. “Send one we can spare. Send him to Leith. Tell him I have his little wife. Tell him to come here. Alone. With the book. If he brings anyone else—Iwillknow—and I’ll cut off her ear.”
Charity gasped. Even Barron flinched.
“Do not act so shocked,” Markham sneered. “Now go. Deliver the message. Tell him my men are watching.”
Barron nodded reluctantly and left. There were no men, of course. No one liked Markham. The only wonder was that Barron remained at all.
“I’ve seen the book,” Charity said, desperate to keep him talking. “It’s not what you think. Most of it concerns people from my father’s generation. Many are dead. My father exaggerated its importance. There’s little of value in it.”
“Don’t take me for a fool,” he snarled. “At first you pretended not to know of the book at all, now you claim to know its contents. I know what’s in it.”
She wasn’t sure he did.
“Gabriel,” she said at last.
He tilted his head. “Ah, now I am Gabriel. When I proposed, I was a nuisance. But now you use my Christian name. I see your game. If you had shown me even a little of that charm, we could be happily married and living in one of our castles.”
“You are a fool,” she snapped. “I never would have married you. Not for all the gold in England. Look at yourself—brandishing a blade at a woman. Your father would be so proud.”
