and yet, not even that seemed to be reason enough for his heart to quicken its pace.
Mist lingered upon the ground this early in the morning, and the faint light slowly illuminating the sky touched upon a dew-covered world. An owl hooted in the distance, a last call before it would seek out its nest. The aroma of wet dirt under his boots drifted to Drake’s nostrils, and he welcomed the coolness lingering upon his forehead. Indeed, he felt quite at ease or would have if it were not for the man, he had come here to kill this morning.
Another three steps carried him across the clearing before Drake stopped, his hand steady, and then turned to face Lord Crawford.
In the dim light, Drake could no longer make out the other man’s features. He no longer saw that self-righteous gleam in his eyes, the hard set of his mouth and the complete disregard for all he had done upon his face. All Drake did see in that moment was a lone figure standing there, his arm extending as he brought the pistol forward, aiming it at Drake.
Drake, too, was taking aim, not rushing, but instead taking his time to—
Bang!
A shot rang out, a deafening sound in the still morning air, and Drake felt a sharp pain pierce his left forearm. The force of the bullet jerked his shoulder backwards, and his brain registered pain. Yet, it did not signify. It did not matter.
Inhaling a deep breath, Drake steadied his nerves, one eye closed, helping him adjust his aim. Dimly, he noticed the figure on the opposite end of the clearing flinch and imagined Lord Crawford’s eyes filling with utter panic and fear. The thought brought a smile to Drake’s face for it seemed appropriate that the man ought to at least feel the same terror he had caused others in the last moments of his life.
Drake’s finger tightened upon the trigger. His chest rose and fell with one final breath, his hand steady as a rock.
Bang!
Another deafening shot rang through the clearing, and at its opposite end, Lord Crawford crumbled to the ground.
Dropping the dueling pistol where he stood, Drake cast one last hateful glare at the man who now lay dead or dying upon the ground, his pale-faced second by his side, and then turned and walked away.
The sun rose swiftly now that another evil had been taken from this world, and Drake felt his chest rise and fall with more ease. The pain in his arm still lingered, but he did not mind it for it only served as a reminder of what he had achieved that night. Nevertheless, Drake knew that far more predators remained, their twisted minds and evil souls hidden behind charming smiles and protected by laws that did not serve to uphold justice.
This duel had not been Drake’s first, and it would not be his last. He would continue to walk among the ton, eyes and ears wide open, searching for others, wives trapped in a marriage with a monster, unable to protect themselves.
As Drake pulled himself back into the saddle, he momentarily closed his eyes, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose as he remembered the day that had made him the man he was.
Blood had been everywhere, the knife she had used still in her hand. Her eyes had been closed, the look upon her face was one Drake would never forget. In fact, she had seemed peaceful, unburdened, free. Never had Drake seen her like that before, and in that moment, Drake had realized that he had never truly known her. He had walked the world blind, unaware of the horrors she had faced on a daily basis.
Now, he knew. Yet, he had been too late. The realization had come to him far too late.
He would not be too late again. He would do what he had to do in order to prevent the same tragedy from happening again.
One by one, he would rid the world of these men. He would do it for her.
If only he had known when that knowledge could still have made a difference to her.
If only.
Chapter One
A First Step
Whickerton Grove, December 1802 (or a variation thereof)
Later that same year
Always had Leonora felt at peace at their family estate far out in the country. Especially in winter, she loved the house and the grounds, snow everywhere. She loved the soft crunch under her boots as she walked through the gardens, white wherever she looked, the sun