chance of return. She was precious to me, her father, and her mother. She was precious to many friends, and her life held the same value as yours—or even more than yours, you vile shite.”
Pain sliced through Nicolas’s soul. “All your creditors will come calling tomorrow. All the newspapers and scandal sheets will be printing the knowledge that you are broke…and of your interest in a particular house in Soho.”
Then he turned, opened the door, and walked away.
Once in the hallway, a shout of rage sounded behind him, and he turned in time to see the duke lunging at him with a rapier. He jerked back, gripping the head of his cane, twisted and drew his blade in one smooth motion. Savage satisfaction darted through Nicolas when the duke attacked him again, and he parried, all the rage and guilt carried with him for the last ten years rushing through him in a chaotic storm.
Within three moves he disarmed the duke and held the point of his rapier at his throat.
“You have ruined me,” the duke said, his eyes red with tears.
“You cry, but not because you feel remorse,” Nicolas said, disgusted.
A thin line of blood beaded on the tip of his blade, and several cries echoed behind them. A quick glance revealed the butler and three maids hovering in the lengthy hallway, their faces stark with horror.
“Accept the punishment for the pain and horror you inflicted on an innocent girl,” he snarled. “She flung herself into the river. You have life. Be satisfied you were left with that.”
Then he lowered his rapier and walked out of the man’s home. Once outside, he lifted his face to the sky and breathed deeply.
The retort of a pistol shot came from inside, and then screams rode the air. Without going back inside, he knew what the duke had done. No regret soured Nicolas’s gut. If Arianna’s father had been a man of equal standing, he would have challenged the duke and the others to a duel of honor and would have taken their lives.
One more has been taken down. No satisfaction flowered through Nicolas, either, just a deep sense of knowing that a measure of justice had been served.
The dragon wings spread wide, a rose of coronet upon its head…how merciless this dragon was, tempting me with chances of escape only to catch me again when I tasted freedom.
“The Dragon is dead, Arianna,” he said, the slight wind ripping his words into the air. A whimsical part of him wished the wind took the news to her so her haunting would stop.
He suddenly felt unbearably weary, as if something heavy sat on his shoulders. Nicolas wished he would go home to something different than an empty town house, and a bottle of whiskey. He was eight and twenty but felt as if he had lived much longer. He walked away from the commotion and started down the cobbled street.
Two footmen raced past him, no doubt to call a physician. The duke possibly lived, then, and Nicolas found himself hoping that he had not really died. That was the hardest part about his vengeance. He had made these men his cohorts. Though he had become a libertine to do it, there were days he laughed and caroused with them, and when he left their presence after a night of either gambling, playing cards, or leaving replete from a bordello, his heart would feel heavy.
He had dined at these men’s homes, met their families. He had seen that there was more to them than the monstrous deed they committed at age nineteen or eighteen, but it was still not in his heart to let them off. Justice had to be served.
And there were days he bled because of it, but upon his honor he would not falter. Not even when he went for the wolf.
But I need to know beyond a shadow of a doubt that you were there.
Upon reaching his town house, a young man hovered, Ronald Jenkins formerly of Bow Street, looking a mite anxious. He was but one of a three-man team Nicolas had set to discreetly shadow Lady Maryann.
“What is it?” Nicolas demanded, his gut instantly knotting.
“The lady ye have us watching out for, a carriage almost ran her over your lordship. This afternoon on High Holborn. I did not see it, but Harry said someone pushed her into the path of the carriage, and that the two seemed to be working together. The driver waited until she was out