moment.”
Fenwick laughed in a way that made her flesh crawl. “Jago’s gone off with the lovely Mrs. Valera. He won’t be in any condition to talk once she’s finished with him. I can personally attest to that.”
Michael ignored his taunt. “Let’s step away from the door, shall we?” He motioned with his gun hand and Fenwick moved toward the hearth, the two men keeping Benna between them.
“Sit.” Michael pointed to a long brown leather settee that looked big enough to accommodate at least six people.
Benna sat and Michael lowered himself beside her, although not too near. Fenwick stood behind the sofa, his pistol aimed at Benna’s head
Her cousin laid his gun in his lap, but he kept his finger on the trigger, the barrel pointing in her direction.
“What adventures you’ve had, dear Benna.” Michael’s lips curved into an unpleasant leer. “Tell me, have you spread those long legs of yours for the handsome earl—as you did for Morecambe? I’m guessing the answer to that is yes.”
“Why do you ask, Michael? Does it bother you to know that I’d rather work as a servant than allow you to touch me?”
Michael’s hand flexed on the gun handle and his face tightened, but he chuckled. “Too bad for you that fucking Trebolton didn’t work any better than it did with old Geoffrey.” He smirked at the confusion she knew must be showing on her face. “Don’t expect Jago to rescue you, darling. How do you think I found you in the first place?”
Benna’s head buzzed at his words. In her heart, she knew he was lying. But her brain—her traitorous, suspicious brain—began to make unwanted connections.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, my dear. I can see that’s quite a shock. But poor Trebolton is only trying to save his wretched estate, Benna. You shouldn’t blame the man for doing what he needed to do. Not that marrying the gorgeous Ria is exactly a sacrifice.”
I’m not marrying Mrs. Valera. Jago’s solemn words came back to her.
No matter what bile Michael was spewing, Benna knew he was lying about that.
“If it is any consolation, Jago can’t really do anything except marry Ria. Not if he ever wants to get out from under the cat’s paw.” He glanced up at Fenwick. “Isn’t that right, Dickie?”
Fenwick’s mouth tightened. “Hold your tongue,” he said through clenched teeth, looking quite sober suddenly.
Michael smiled at his friend’s barely suppressed fury. “Yes, poor Doctor Jago can be excused for sacrificing himself for money. But Morecambe, on the other hand, he was flush when he sold you to me—did you know that?” He smirked when Benna didn’t answer. “It’s too bad that Geoff never got to keep any of that money.”
“What did you do to him?” she demanded.
Michael laughed softly. “Good God, look at you—you actually care about a man who used you like a drudge and treated you like a whore and then sold you when he tired of you. Even after all that you’re as loyal as a dog to its master. Bloody pathetic.”
“You say the word loyalty as if it were a bad quality, Michael. But then, you would think that—wouldn’t you?” She leaned closer to him and he jerked back, his face flushing when he realized what he’d done.
“You’re going to hang for what you did to David,” she whispered, forcing him to crane his neck to hear her. She looked up at Fenwick, who was observing their conversation in open-mouthed fascination, the tip of his pistol actually pointing toward Michael. He jolted when Benna met his gaze and reoriented the gun on her. “Fenwick knows what you did and I’m sure he’ll give evidence to spare his own neck.”
Michael snorted. “You have nothing; you’re just casting for fish and hoping to hook something.”
Benna smirked and shrugged. “Whatever plans you have for me—whatever thugs you have waiting outside to tie me up and haul me away—you should put them out of your mind. In fact, if I were you—after what you’ve done to me and my brother—I’d leave this place at a gallop and hop on the first packet to Dover.”
His face twisted into an ugly sneer. “The only place I’m going, dear Benna, is back to Wake House. You, my murdering friend, have two choices: you can come with me—nice and quiet—or I can go to the local sheriff and mention how you are connected to not one but two murders.”
“Connected how?” she scoffed, but her heart lurched in her chest.
“The sheriff found a penny knife lodged in a