Page 55 of Fatal By Design
He raised his hand, then indicated Thornton and Fournier to split apart, as they had at Montague Lodge, to circle around the people ahead. Hugh went forward alone. A few more strides and the voices became clear. Movement rippled between tree trunks.
“There is no money hidden at Fournier Downs, is there? You were lying.”
Henley, Hugh presumed, heaving for breath as though he’d just finished sprinting. Careful not to snap a stick underfoot and give away his approach, Hugh inched closer.
A woman sat in a small clearing on the forest floor, pressed against a fallen log and cradling her knee. He recognized Lady Redding from her portrait at Haverfield. Audrey and Carrigan stood in front of her. The way Audrey clung to Carrigan, her driver supporting her around her waist, concerned him. She’d been hurt. Sir fought with Audrey’s outstretched arm as she attempted to push him behind them. The boy was attempting to shield her.
Henley’s back was to Hugh, but he could still see the pistol he aimed at the foursome. A double barrel flintlock, like Hugh’s own. He’d have, at most, two bullets in his weapon. Hugh moved, and Audrey’s eyes flared as she spotted him.
“I did lie,” she said, her attention snapping back to Henley. “We were steps away from the ring at Greenbriar, and yet your desperation was so extreme, you allowed me to lead you from it.”
Her intent was obvious, at least to Hugh. She wanted to inflame Henley, pull his attention from the woods surrounding them as Hugh positioned himself closer. It worked.
“Devious bitch!” he shouted.
Hugh moved out from the trees and pulled the first hammer back on his flintlock. “Drop your weapon.”
Henley froze, but he did not lower the pistol.
“He has one shot left,” Audrey said, wincing as she shifted her footing. Her black skirt sported a darker patch. Blood. Had the bastard shot her?
“You’re finished, Henley,” he said. “We’ve found Cartwright. He’s told us everything.”
“Has he, now?” Henley grated out a laugh. “This is all his doing.”
“Youwere taken in by a swindler, not Cartwright,” Hugh said. “You unintentionally defrauded your peers, and this is how you remedy your mistakes? Kidnapping, murder, and theft?”
“If I had been heir, this would have never happened!” Henley’s flustered exclamation frightened some birds from the limbs of the trees around them. Just then, Thornton and Fournier emerged on opposite sides of the clearing.
“I had to invest. Grandfather squandered everything, his allowance to me dwindled to a pittance,” he spat.
“Heir or not, you’d possess the same spoiled character,” Cartwright said, having reached them. Henley, his pistol still aimed at his captives, turned his head just enough to glimpse his cousin.
"He did it all on purpose, you know. He hated you so much that he was prepared to ruin his own legacy so that you would get nothing.”
Hugh didn’t think this was a lie. The sorry state of Montague’s country seat and the rumors of his depleted wealth, not to mention his disappearance from society, supported Henley’s claims.
“Then he has labored in vain,” Cartwright said. “I never planned to use a farthing of his money to do anything but keep up the estate. I have made my own fortune without handouts from him, and without cheating decent people, as you have.” He sighed, resignation and disappointment weighting it. “You are just as cruel and hollow-hearted as he is. You are right, cousin. You truly should have been heir.”
Henley sneered and flexed his hand—and Hugh anticipated the man’s next move a bare second before Henley spun on his heel.
“Audrey, down!” he shouted, knowing she would be in his own line of fire.
Henley swung his pistol toward Cartwright, intending to use his last shot on the object of his envy. Simultaneously, Audrey threw herself on top of Millie, Carrigan tackled Sir to the ground, and Hugh fired. Henley’s pistol discharged, but the shot went into the ground as he staggered forward. He dropped to a knee, then fell sideways into some ferns.
Cartwright stared, wide-eyed at his fallen cousin, belatedly realizing he would have been shot. Hugh surged toward Audrey. She slowly rose from atop her sister, just as Sir shoved Carrigan off with muffled complaints.
Hugh dropped to Audrey’s side and cupped her cheeks, barely resisting the urge to kiss her. “You’re injured.”
“My leg,” she confirmed just as her sister cried, “She’s been shot!”
Hugh twisted. “Thornton!”
His friend was already there, shoving Hugh out of the way. Tossing modesty to the wind, Thornton raised her skirt’s hem, exposing cream silk stockings, garters, and drawers. Hugh’s stomach lurched at the crimson soaked into them. As Thornton deftly inspected Audrey’s thigh, Cartwright helped Millie to her feet and away.
“He was going to shoot me, but then something came through the window and struck the horrible wretch in the face,” Millie gasped as she clung to Cartwright, tears streaming down her cheeks.
“It were a rock,” Sir said with a proud nod. He held his slingshot high. “A good sized one too.”
