“You fucking bastard,” Francis snarled, pulling Lord Landon away from the wall and slamming him back against it, this time lifting him until he was nearly off his feet. “I’ll kill you, I swear I will.”
That, finally, propelled Katrina to break free of the shocked stupor she had been frozen in. She bolted from the bed, grabbing Francis’s arm and pulling back with all her might. But she may as well have been tugging on a stone statue for all her brother was affected.
“Francis,” she begged as she looked wildly at the baron’s quickly purpling face, “please let him go. I’m certain Lord Landon just over imbibed. He is marrying Miss Hartley tomorrow and must be nervous.”
Blessedly the hard muscles under her hands released their tension, and Lord Landon slid toward the ground. Relief began to fill Katrina as the baron dragged in a ragged breath.
But then Lord Landon went and opened his mouth again.
“I am not drunk, but quite sober,” he shouted hoarsely, throwing Francis’s hands off and grabbing Katrina’s hands. “In fact, I have never been more sober. And I do not give a damn what Miss Hartley’s father will do to me in breaking this cursed engagement. Katrina, I love you. Marry me—”
Before the words were out of his mouth, Francis’s fist connected with the baron’s jaw, sending his head flying back. Blood spattered Katrina’s fine lawn nightgown and across the wall.
“You shall regret this, Landon,” her brother snarled. “I demand satisfaction.”
“Francis, no!” Katrina cried, reaching for him. But he shook her off, his blazing eyes never leaving the baron.
“Expect my second to contact you. We meet at dawn.”
A flash of fear crossed Lord Landon’s pale face, mingling with the quickly deepening bruise from Francis’s fist and the blood trickling down his chin, creating a horrifying mask. But he straightened and looked her brother in the eye.
“Very well,” he rasped. “Dawn it is.”
They both stormed out of her room, leaving the air electric with anger and fear and fury. And Katrina, holding Mouse, staring at the space where they had been, knowing nothing would ever be the same again.
Chapter 1
Isle of Synne, 1821
Miss Katrina Denby had learned years ago that as soon as life seemed to be shifting in her favor, it was invariably going to be turned on its head.
It was not as if she believed there was some force out there determined to undermine every good thing she might have. She was unimportant, after all, and therefore could never garner such fatalistic occurrences from the powers that be. No, her future was merely caught in the crosshairs of much more important and devastating events. Whether it was her parents’ unexpected and tragic deaths just before her London debut, or her brother losing his arm after the duel in her honor that had sent her fleeing society in scandal, or the loss of her family’s fortunes, which had prompted her to enter a life of service, she had been trapped in the undertow of the swirling maelstrom that happened around her.
She could say, with utmost confidence, that her suffering on each occasion had been mild considering what others had suffered, and so it was incredibly selfish of her to fixate on her own heartbreak. She could have been in that carriage with her parents, instead of remaining at home with a cold. And she could have been without employment prospects when she had needed to escape her increasingly dire living situation. And she could have lost her brother in that duel…
Well, she amended bleakly, she supposed she had lost him in a way. But at least he wasn’t dead. And lately she had even begun to get a part of him back, her weekly letters to him, sent without fail though he had refused to acknowledge them for years, finally answered.
Now, secure in her position as companion to the irascible dowager Viscountess Tesh, the outspoken matriarch of that popular seaside resort the Isle of Synne, and in possession of the first real friends she had ever had, she felt she was finally attaining the respectability she had yearned for since that great scandal four years ago. And so she supposed she should have been prepared for yet another great upheaval. Fool that she was, however, she had instead remained blissfully unaware of the impending doom about to descend upon her.
Though how she could have ever predicted this, she thought as she looked down on a body sprawled inelegantly in the garden below her bedroom window, she didn’t have a clue.
“Goodness me,” she muttered, peering down into the heavily shadowed bushes. “Who in the world is that?”
The only answer she received, however, was a low woof from the massive canine beside her. Her sweet runt of a pup had grown considerably in the four years since she had taken over his care. Now, with paws the size of dinner plates planted on the windowsill, Mouse perked his ears and tilted his head in curiosity as he stared down at the unmoving form below them. As if he hadn’t been the one to push the man out of the window.
“Oh, Mouse,” she moaned. “What have you done now?”
Even if he had been able to answer, the dog would not have been given the chance. Suddenly she heard a great stomping of feet below and saw a lantern swinging wildly down the garden path, sending shadows careening through the vegetation. And then there was the butler and several footmen, faces illuminated by the glow of the lantern, all half-dressed and seemingly ready for battle if the brooms and mops they held poised like medieval swords were any indication.
“Good God, what happened?” she heard one of them ask as he knelt down to peer in the bushes. As the rest of them muttered darkly to one another, the butler came closer, the light from the lantern bathing the unknown man. Finally giving enough light for Katrina to see his identity.
Her vision went dark around the edges, and she could literally feel the blood leave her face. She did not know she had cried out, however, until the men below looked up at her in surprise.
The butler was the first to react. “Miss Denby,” Jasper called out in alarm. “Perhaps it’s best if you go back inside. This is no sight for a lady to witness.”
But she could not. No, her horrified gaze remained glued to the supine man below. His eyes were opened wide, staring unseeing up at the inky black sky, his mouth slack, his neck bent at an unnatural angle. But it was not the realization that she was staring down at a dead man that had her frozen in shock. No, it was the man’s very familiar features, features she had seen in her nightmares more than once in the last four years.
Jasper seemed to realize something was amiss. His steely brows drawing low over his eyes, he called out, “Miss, do you know this man?”
It took her some seconds to respond. When she finally did, however, her voice sounded as if it were coming from far away.
“I do,” she managed. “That is Lord Landon. The man who nearly killed my brother.”
Some hours later—truly she didn’t have a clue how many; all she knew was the sun had begun its ascent over the horizon—Katrina found herself seated in Lady Tesh’s private sitting room, a cup of hot tea in her hands, her employer and her dear friends surrounding her. She was certain she would eventually feel a horrible guilt for dragging them all from their beds in the middle of the night. Now, however, she was just glad they were with her.