A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,138
gone, and Geoffrey’s scribbles are the least of their problems, but my name is in it, too. You took great pains to show it to me, remember? If we’re to be partners, you and I—true partners—I need the thing destroyed.”
William smiled, happy to unbalance the man. “This is what all the fuss is about, all this heat, this dead of the night summons? Why, Ralph, you disappoint me. Surely you realized I was showing you all a forgery? The man was a dreamer and failed poet, a worthless waste of anyone’s concern. What on earth could any of us fear from his notations on the local flora and fauna and such nonsense? I wrote the diary you saw. It may have been unsporting of me, but I needed your help.”
The truth worked nicely, as unexpected truth invariably did, and William began to relax, for Ralph was behaving so totally out of character he had begun to worry.
“You—it was—where is it now?”
Now a lie might be best, especially since Ralph hadn’t seemed to notice that the forged diary had mentioned only four names, not all five; Laleham hadn’t been about to incriminate himself, after all, and one never knew when the diary might be useful in future. “I burned it, of course. It had served its purpose, and I couldn’t leave it lying about, now could I, to be discovered by just anybody? Ralph,” he added, sighing, “isn’t it silly of us to argue now, when we’re so close to our goal.”
Ralph took another step forward, and suddenly there was a pistol in his hand. “Not our goal, William—my goal. I don’t need you anymore. What good were you anyway? Keeping to the background, just so that you can step forward at the end and scoop up the lion’s share of the profits, not to mention all the glory? Just as it always was, William—you as the head and we the arms and legs, doing all the work, taking all the risks. Well, no more. You and your whore of a consort will have nothing—and I will have it all.” He smiled again, and this time his smile wasn’t simply distasteful, it was frighteningly triumphant. “And I’ll have it all forever.”
William’s hands balled into fists, but he kept his tone even. “Again with this strange obsession with Marguerite. I truly don’t know what you’re talking about. And lower that pistol, please, before you hurt yourself.”
Ralph moved even closer, the pistol looming large in his hand. “Marguerite. Your so pure, so innocent Marguerite. If she’s a virgin, I’m a Dutchman! God save me from the ravings of a man grown too old to recognize an obsession. She’s been tipped on her heels by our dear American friend Donovan. I saw them together, that night you sent me chasing after the American when he left Richmond. I just didn’t tell you, did I? Oh, you look surprised, William. But why? He as good as announced his intentions every time we met. He wanted her, and he got her. She’s Victoria’s daughter, remember. Balfour females seem to have a penchant for throwing themselves away on inferiors. It is not every woman who shares your high opinion of yourself.”
Laleham felt his head beginning to pound. “Liar. You’ve overstepped yourself this time, Ralph. I’ve put up with your foolishness, your dark moods, your endless line of soothsayers. Oh, yes, I know about them—your ridiculous superstitions, your womanish fear of death. I know everything about you, Ralph, about all of you. How else has it been so lamentably easy for me to use you? But now you’ve gone too far. You’ll pay for this insult. You’ll pay dearly.”
“Aren’t you waxing fairly ferocious for a man looking down the barrel of a pistol, Willie?” Ralph asked, leaning against the back of a small wooden chair, appearing relaxed and at his ease. Too at his ease. Too relaxed.
William looked down and noticed Ralph was standing on a small rug. He cocked his head to one side. “True enough. I don’t know what came over me. Let’s talk about this, Ralph,” he crooned smoothly, deliberately trading belligerence for a compromising attitude. “We’ve been friends for too long to argue. What do you want? You want to have more power? It can be arranged, now that it’s just the two of us. You know I’ve always planned it that way. The others—they became superfluous the moment their clerks wrote the orders to transfer the goods, the money. And you’ve already signed