Page 91 of My Rogue, My Ruin
She sighed, but her answer was clear in the annoyed look she sent him. As if he was a fool. As if he should have figured it out ages ago.
His mother’s death had been an accident…but only because she had died in Archer’s place. His sister was insane, he concluded, the sinking awareness wringing his heart and stomach together in anguish. Hissisterwas the threat. Hissisterwanted him dead.Themdead. He felt Brynn clinging to his side, her breath coming in a choppy rhythm. He was not Eloise’s sole target anymore. Which meant he had to proceed carefully—and stall for time.
“And the duke?” he asked, attempting to keep his voice flat.
“Oh, I killed him, too,” she said in a bored tone. “That was unfortunate, but honestly, I’m glad for it now. The man rutted everything that moved and had the nerve to punishmefor it. Do you know what it’s like being born a bastard and despised every day of your life? No, of course you don’t. You, after all, arelegitimate.” Her words were bitter, the sneer on her lips more so, but she shrugged. “I think he suspected about the fire, but he didn’t have the guts, until that night in his study, to confront me about it.” She smiled. “The look on his face when I told him was priceless. So yes, I killed him. After all, I didn’t want him ruining all my beautifully laid plans. I did you a favor, Archer. I did us both a favor.”
He ignored the blinding ache that spiraled through him at her confession and struggled to keep his face unmoved. “And the Masked Marauder?”
She responded in a mocking tone. “I made it my business to know everything going on at Worthington Abbey. I found your mask; followed you to Pierce Cottage. It wasn’t hard to put two and two together and work out what you and that bastard of a stable master were doing. It’s fitting that he will rot in prison, is it not? I’ve never liked him, always at your side like an insect. Evenhethought he was better than me.”
“You sent the notes,” Archer concluded dully.
“Of course I did. I took great pleasure in watching the great Archer Croft cringing at the threat of being unmasked.” Her lip curled. “You’re nothing but a common thief.”
“He is not,” Brynn blurted. “He does not keep what he takes.”
“And that excuses the crime?” Eloise laughed, the hollow sound making Archer’s skin rankle. “Oh, I know of the demons that drive my brother, and his desire to right a situation that can never be fixed. The duke killed my mother, you see. Left her to rot and die like the commoner she was. She didn’t have the means to save herself, which was why Lady Bradburne took me in. Out of guilt. And likewise, my dear brother steals from his peers because of his own sorryguilt.” She smiled. “He loathes being born into privilege. Scorns it, even, while the rest of us grovel for crumbs of approval.”
“I am not my father,” Archer returned quietly.
“I suppose that’s one good thing that could be said for you,” Eloise said, eyeing him. “You think your skewed sense of nobility in feeding the hungry and saving the sick makes up for his sins?”
Archer stared back, though not in a confrontational manner. He was not familiar with this unpredictable, volatile Eloise, and the wrong look or response could work against them. “No, but at least it’s something.”
“Something worth hanging for?”
Archer’s jaw tightened at the underlying thread of menace in her tone. Was that her plan, then? To out him to the authorities? “If that is the price I must pay, then yes.”
“Then you are more foolish than I ever gave you credit for.” His sister’s gaze shifted to Brynn. “Light that candle over there, will you please, Lady Briannon?” Archer felt Brynn stiffen at his side, and Eloise’s eyes hardened at her hesitation. “Do it. I warn you that I am not as softhearted, or as stupid, as that dead brute lying beside you.”
Brynn lit the candle and moved back to stand at Archer’s side, her body trembling as she grasped the torn edges of her bodice. He wanted so much to take hold of her hand, but he knew without a doubt, Eloise meant every word she said, and that she was more than capable of killing in cold blood. How had he not seen this hatred, this seething resentment before? How had he been so blind all these years? He couldn’t dwell on it, however. Once more, he needed to find a way out of this deadlock and get Brynn to safety. He could deal with his sister’s betrayal after.
“You see,” Eloise continued, “my plan was to frame you for the duke’s murder. Poor Barnstead here was more than happy to earn his keep. He kept what he stole and altered your secret persona into something more despicable. Iwasgoing to let you hang, but this is so much better. Instead, I shall pin him as the criminal who hurt so many people and murdered my father, as well as my brother and his beautiful fiancée, all of whom are survived by poor, helpless Eloise.”
“You plan tokillus?” Brynn gasped.
“Oh yes, my sweet girl. So tragic.” She spread her palms with dramatic flair. “Attacked by the Masked Marauder who was lured by the prize of the Bradburne jewels.” She nodded at Brynn. “Nice tactic, by the way. It really was a perfect ploy.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “There was a struggle, the bandit was shot, but a candle tipped over, setting the place on fire.” She eyed Archer, malice dripping from her words. “And you will die as you were meant to all those years ago.”
Something settled inside Archer at his sister’s words. A new determination. He didn’t know what would happen to him in the end, but he did know, without a moment’s doubt, that he would die before allowing one more injury to befall Lady Briannon Findlay.
“Why, Eloise? We are friends,” Brynn whispered.
“We were never friends,” Eloise spat. “You looked down on me like everyone else. And with a face like this, who wouldn’t? What were my chances for happiness? Of making a decent match?”
“But what about Langlevit?” Brynn asked. “He cares for you. I’ve seen—”
“Shut up, or God help me, I’ll make you!” Eloise’s words, though doused in acid, cracked.
Suddenly, Archer saw his opportunity. He shook his head. “She doesn’t care about the earl, Brynn. After all, my mother loved her, too, and she threw that away. She doesn’t care about love, nor any of the people who love her.”
Naked pain slashed Eloise’s face. “She loved her precious son more. I couldn’t stop her from going into a burning tree house to look for you, could I? She died because of you. She was the one person who treated me with compassion, and you took her away from me.”
Destabilize her. Distract her.It was all he had to do before he made his move.
“No, Eloise, she died because of you. You set the fire. You killed her.”
“Shut up!” she screamed. “Or I will drop your precious love like a fly.” Archer deliberately pressed Brynn behind him, but Eloise only laughed madly. She raised the gun—and froze. A hand holding a pistol appeared in the horse stall entrance where she stood. An arm, and then a body, quickly followed it.
