Kylemore looked down at the duchess with unalloyed loathing. “I bow to this lady’s wishes. Just remember when you’re sulking at the dowerhouse that only my mistress’s intervention saved you from the madhouse. That thought should sour your existence quite satisfactorily.”
He turned to his men as he released his mother. “Disarm the duchess’s servants, then take them to Oban and find a notary. I want sworn statements about what occurred today. Then escort them to Norfolk. I’ll write to my factor, and he’ll have a guard in place by the time you arrive.”
The duchess inhaled with a long hiss. “No, I won’t bear it!” She fumbled in her skirts, and suddenly, the silver knife glittered in her hand. She launched herself at Kylemore. “You have no right to do this, you misbegotten wretch!”
“Watch out, Kylemore! She’s armed!” Verity cried, automatically raising the pistol.
He jerked beyond his mother’s reach, then stretched out to restrain her. She swiped his hand aside with a sweep of the blade, a fraction away from drawing blood.
“Damn you, madam!” He didn’t shift his gaze from her. “You’ve lost. It’s too late. Do you want to hang indeed?”
“I won’t hang. I’ll go back to the life I’ve always led,” she gasped, her eyes feverish in her pale face.
“Drop the knife, Your Grace,” Verity said in a hard voice. Her earlier fear had evaporated the moment the duchess had threatened the man she loved. “Drop it. Or I swear I’ll shoot. And if you think I don’t know how to use this gun, you’re sadly mistaken. Self-defense counts among the courtesan’s arts.” To prove her statement, she cocked the gun with the smooth assurance her lessons with Eldreth had lent her.
The duchess fixed a contemptuous gaze on Verity. “You won’t kill me. You know what would happen to you.”
“Perhaps I don’t care. You threatened me with torture and rape today, Your Grace. And remember, we have a string of witnesses to swear I merely protect the Duke of Kylemore. I doubt I’ll see the inside of a prison cell.”
The duchess’s stare glowed with malevolence as she trained it upon Verity. “How I wish I’d destroyed you.”
Verity tilted her head in imitation of Kylemore’s ironic salute. “I’m rather glad you didn’t.”
“You uppity bitch! I’ll kill you before you crow over me!”
The woman flung herself toward Verity, the knife raised. Automatically, Verity’s finger tightened on the trigger.
There was a deafening explosion. The acrid smell of gunpowder filled the air.
The duchess screamed and staggered back into Kylemore’s hold. He held her upright with one arm around her waist while he tugged the knife from her slack
fingers.
Ears ringing, Verity let the pistol drop uselessly to her side. “Did…did I injure her?” she asked unsteadily, feeling sick to her stomach.
She’d never before fired a gun in anger, and, however much the duchess deserved to suffer, it was hard to accept that she’d shot a bullet into another human being.
“No, she’s untouched. More’s the pity,” Kylemore bit out after a perfunctory inspection.
“Thank God,” Verity whispered, her dizziness receding.
“You shot at me, you damned guttersnipe,” the duchess said in shock. “You shot at me!”
Kylemore’s unearthly coldness returned as he spoke to the duchess. “Not another word, madam. Your antics are at an end. Now get out of my sight.” He looked up at Duncan, who had rushed in their direction when the gun had gone off. “Escort Her Grace to her carriage and see she stays there.”
Verity expected arguments, threats, protests from the duchess, but the woman remained silent. Against her son’s tall and dominant leanness, she looked shrunken, as though today’s defeat had leached the venom from her.
But Verity knew this particular snake would strike again if the opportunity arose.
While Duncan marched the duchess away toward the waiting vehicle, Kylemore turned to Verity with concern in his eyes. “Are you all right?” he asked gently.
“Yes,” she said, although her heart still pounded with the nauseating wave of terror that had swept her when she’d thought she’d killed the duchess. She even dredged up an uncertain smile as she passed the gun across to him. “This might be safer with you.”
Kylemore accepted it without comment. “Hamish and I will accompany you and your brother back to Kylemore Castle.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, while exhausted gratitude to the man who had saved her swelled her soul. She turned away to hide a sudden rush of tears. “I must check on my brother.”
She forced herself from trembling immobility and crossed to kneel at Ben’s side. He was stretched out on the luxuriant grass, and a coat was folded beneath his head.