“How on earth did you get free? Mother, I suppose. Well, that will have to be dealt with.” Walking with a leisurely disregard until he reached the desk, Mr. Brennan appeared far too calm as he arranged himself neatly on the wooden surface, with an ease that defied the circumstances. He kept his weapon trained on Maeve, now only feet from her. He glanced between the two of them as if trying and failing to see the reason or rationale for this situation and finding none. “This does seem a quandary.”
Silverton advanced into the room. Maeve hoped he would reach her side and pull her into an embrace, almost as if his brother wasn’t there, and there weren’t several sets of weapons between the three of them. But before Silverton had taken three steps, Charles made a tutting noise, and Silverton stopped entirely.
“Now that suggestion of a deal seems a distinct possibility… since if I were to fire on dear Maeve here, you would fire at me. And I don’t want that.”
“I will agree if you allow Lady Silverton to leave this Hall immediately.”
The announcement took Charles by surprise because he cocked an eyebrow and grinned at his brother. “How sweet of you, practically romantic, one might say.”
“Hardly,” Silverton said dismissively. “I will not tolerate another innocent victim on your hands. Or mine.”
“I really think—” Maeve began.
“Don’t,” Silverton cut her off. “I told you to stay away from here for a reason.” Speaking seemed to be a strain for him as a muscle twitched in his jaw.
“Trouble in paradise. Lud—it has only been a few months, and already the bride and groom are at each other’s throats.” Charles was enjoying their interaction and added with teasing relish, “I must say, I always assumed you had stayed a bachelor because there was too much for you to do, not because the ladies loathed you. How amusing that it was always both scenarios.”
“We can all agree that her ladyship came here in error, and it would be best if she were to go.” Silverton gestured with a tilt of his head towards the door before looking back at Charles. “And if she leaves, I will agree.”
From where Maeve was stood, she was shocked to see the look of unbelievable delight flash over Charles’s face. It was as if his dreams were being fulfilled, and it revolted Maeve.
“What did you agree to?” She looked towards Silverton. Studying him properly made tears well in her eyes from the sheer willpower it took not to run to his side, pulling her between wanting to berate him for his meanness and beg him for affection. Maeve had more common sense than that, she reminded herself. Yet when faced with the cruelty which emitted from Charles, was it not better to feel the sort of deep abiding, soul-crushing love she felt for Gregory? Her eyes bore into Silverton’s, imploring him to look at her and to explain.
“Go on,” Charles said, “you’d better run, pet. Scurry back to London as fast as your legs can carry you and be grateful for the small sum of money you extracted already.”
Maeve’s legs were leaden. She was certain if she left the room, scurried out, then Silverton would do something stupid. If she went, she would never seem him again. Unable to think of a reply, she mutely shook her head.
“God, women really are the weaker sex,” Charles said. There was an ugly flush creeping into his face as he spoke, and his fingers were flexing on the pistol. All semblance of his earlier joviality had vanished at Maeve’s silent refusal.
“Please,” Silverton mouthed, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. “If he points that gun at you again, I would be responsible for my actions.” Speaking more loudly, Silverton lowered his pistol down to the carpet, “Here, a sign of good faith.”
“He’s going to kill you,” Maeve said. She was too frightened to shoot her own gun now, scared that Silverton’s twin would kill either her or her husband if she only injured him. How could Silverton seem so at ease with such a brutally looming fate? She wanted to scream at how absurd it all was, how deeply unfair. Her intentions were to save him, not for Gregory to sacrifice himself.
“I got a better time of it than Sprot gave me.” For a second, Maeve saw a flash of warmth from Silverton, as if he was trying his best to reassure her, and if anything, that made it worse.
“Why don’t you hurry up and get this out of the way?” Charles asked. “Or has this whore got aspirations of keeping the title?”
“Just look at me, Charlie.” Silverton stared at his brother and took a step nearer. “You’re going to let her go, and you’re going to kill me. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? There’s a good boy, why don’t you focus on that?”
CHAPTER21
On entering his study, an overwhelming rush of emotion swelled up in Silverton at the sight of his wife. It rendered in Silverton an inability to consider anything properly—and he realised it was because he was scared. For the first time in his life, he had something he valued enough to fear losing.
He had instructed her to stay away, and yet here Maeve was, as lovely, as bright as a flame, eyes darting between the two of them. What happy angel had he dragged down into this hellish conflict? He doubted he would ever be satisfied with looking at her. Hastily, he tried his best to harden his features to give nothing away to his brother. How had he not noticed the elegant arch of her eyebrow before, the lift and shape of her chin which was so refined and beguiling. The urge to pull her close to his side throbbed through his being. It was an uncomfortable realisation, the thunder shock of want, desire, and a strong, abiding love.
The sort of love he had scoffed at previously, believing himself incapable of feeling such an emotion. That, or he was too busy for such nonsense. What a bloody fool he’d been, and now, bitter blow that it was, he had no time to correct these things.
“You should not have come here,” he said to her, and it pounded through his chest. One look at Maeve’s face, and her expression dimmed a little, the light in her eyes confused as she looked between the two of the men. When she glanced back, there was a steely resolve to her movements which hinted at her stubbornness, indicating her lack of regret, despite how things had worked out.
Leaving his mother to tend to the injured Fischer, Silverton had thrown off his bindings. He had dashed from the upper levels of the Hall, down the steps, with a fear that whispered of what devastation he might find at the base of the house.
A curious sight had greeted him on the final step, at the break between the servants and outer rooms: A slight, adolescent girl who bore some resemblance to Maeve. It was noticeable in her bone structure and carriage, although her hair was a lot blonder than Maeve’s, and she had a great many more freckles on her cheeks.
“Grace?” he asked, guessing this was Maeve’s baby sister. He wanted to push past her to find Maeve, but of his wife he could see no sign. The younger girl’s eyes widened in shock at the sight of him, and he noticed a pistol in her hand.
“I recognise you,” she said. “You visited my father once when I was at home, although I doubt you saw me. Maeve said she would go to your study. Have you seen her?”
“Give me that gun.” He had only managed to snatch up the rapier from the floor, which Charles had discarded, and that would hardly suffice against firearms. He leant forward and prised the pistol from her before he saw she was carrying a second one in her other hand. “Do you know how to use that?”
