A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,133

with her ever since. It’s the least we could do for our sister. For our sister’s father. Although Giorgio says he hasn’t had so much fun, playing the lady.”

“Gypsies,” Dooley piped up, blessing himself yet again. “Wait till Bridget hears I’m trucking with Gypsies. She’ll never let me out of her sight again, even to go to the corner pub for a pint. And she won’t let me within ten feet of you, Tommie, for leading me into occasions of sin.”

Thomas ignored Dooley, who was probably enjoying himself more than he’d ever admit, and slung an arm around Marco’s shoulders as they headed back toward the rented coach. “We have to talk, Marco, wouldn’t you agree? Talk and do a bit of reading. Then we’ll decide just what you’re to show Marguerite and just what you won’t.”

It was William’s fault—all William’s fault. I didn’t know how much he wanted her, how he had always coveted her. This wasn’t just another profitable bubble, this was out-and-out destruction. William wanted Geoffrey destroyed. He reeled him in with the bubble, then offered him a way out of his dilemma by inviting him to join our scheme to deal with the French. Our scheme? No. William’s scheme. Always William’s schemes.

It was a mad plan from the outset, with little hope of success. Murder Pitt? The man was close to cocking up his toes anyway. Although, in the end, he lived long enough to keep the empire afloat. But that is of no moment. William wanted Geoffrey out of the way so he could have Victoria. Victoria was to be his queen, his consort. A ridiculous obsession, but well hidden! It took me years to figure it out.

William never meant for Geoffrey to become one of us. He may have never seriously meant to do treason—not then. He only wanted Geoffrey to become a danger to us when he refused to join us. He needed us to fear Geoffrey, fear his knowledge of our plans. He wanted him dead. That way we would all have no choice but to help him, and keep our silence afterward. I see it now. I see it all now—so clearly!

But I was the only one there when Geoffrey came to confront William. Not Stinky, not Perry, not that fool, Arthur. They weren’t there, curse them. Not until it was over.

William let Geoffrey rant and rave, declare he would go to the Crown, turn us in for our intent to do treason, and be damned to his own reputation, the devil with his lost funds, his neighbor’s lost funds. He had been the outcast before, he would suffer their censure again. It didn’t matter. Not as long as he could look his Marguerite in the eye. Not as long as he could keep her love. Keep Victoria’s love.

That’s when William pounced. He hated the thought that Victoria had ever belonged to another man. I’m convinced that explains why he’s so consumed with Marguerite now. Not only is she a part of Victoria, but he believes she is unsullied. Pure. He plans to make her his wife, perhaps his consort. God only knows his reasoning.

I always wanted the money, only the money. William has always wanted more. If he was spinning a lie to Geoffrey all those years ago, he has come to believe his own lies now. King? It’s madness, at least for William.

But this is not William’s story. It is my confession, all the sins I have listed on these pages. I conclude with this, the sin that is the worst, the one that haunts me night and day without ceasing. The sin of watching Geoffrey Balfour die.

William—always so strong, so fit—struck at Geoffrey that night, throwing him to the floor, half stunned, and straddled him, sitting heavily on his chest. He lifted Geoffrey’s cravat and began stuffing the ends into his mouth, shoving the cloth down his gullet, instantly robbing him of any remaining breath, of strength. But Geoffrey’s legs! Oh, how they still bucked, and quivered, and jerked. I could do nothing.

No! I could have done something. Anything. But I didn’t. I stood to one side, terrified, and watched. I could see his eyes growing more frightened by the moment as he looked death in the face and knew it would soon be over for him.

But not soon enough. An eternity of horror came before, at last, it was over. Geoffrey’s legs stopped twitching, and I saw his eyes go flat and lifeless. I don’t want to