Page 99 of The Phantom Duke
Ezekiel nodded, grabbed a ball and proceeded to load and cock the pistol competently and with surprisingly little awkwardness despite his injury. He met Damien’s eyes and nodded resolutely.
“We will face this together,” his brother said.
Damien led the way as they moved through the dark house. Damien held the rifle to his shoulder, sighting along the barrel. When they reached the servant’s quarters, Maria hugged him, eyes wide and frightened but face firm with determination.
“You are a fine Duchess for Winterleigh,” Damien whispered. “Fierce and brave.”
“Come back to me,” Maria’s voice trembled.
She ran to Philby’s door, knocking loudly and then disappearing inside. A sound reached Damien from above. Breaking glass.
“He’s still here,” Damien said.
Ezekiel nodded. “I will never forget the look in his eyes. He was like a rabid animal. I fear his imprisonment has maddened him.”
They stalked the sounds of the intruder. Heavy footsteps. Breaking glass or furniture. Even laughter. Damien moved through the cloak of night with the confidence of a man used to darkness. He heard Ezekiel behind him, but his attention was all on the shadows in front and what they hid.
“It sounds like he is moving back towards the dungeon,” Damien whispered. “Why would he do that? Why not simply take his freedom?”
“Perhaps you were right about him. Perhaps his purpose in coming here was more than just to poach your game,” Ezekiel said. “Something far more destructive. Perhaps he came here for you.”
They were descending the wooden stairs to the dungeon, hearing the man below them. There was an odd note in Ezekiel’s voice. Damien risked a look up the stairs towards his brother. Ezekiel stood at the top of the staircase and had levelled the pistol at Damien, pulling back the hammer.
“Do it and let us be done with this,” came a voice from the bottom of the stairs.
Damien looked to see his prisoner, armed with a knife, blood dripping from its edge.
“You faked the attack,” he said.
“I needed to convince you,” Ezekiel said, slowly descending, the pistol’s barrel never shifting from Damien.
Light flickered against the walls of the stairwell, far greater shadows than should have been created by lamp or candlelight. The bitter tang of woodsmoke began to reach Damien’s nostrils. Ezekiel became aware of it, too.
“What have you done?” he demanded.
The prisoner grinned. “Getting me some revenge on both of you. You for dragging me into this, and him for keeping me locked up!”
Damien was dividing his attention between the two men, who were drawing closer, step by slow step. The only way out of the cellar was the staircase that they stood on. For the prisoner to escape the fire he had started, he would need to go through Damien and then Ezekiel.
“You were in this together?” Damien said.
“Me and others. Paid by him to map a path through the woods and get into the house! Not enough!” the prisoner said.
“Why, Ezekiel? I would have embraced you as a brother. I would have shared Winterleigh with you,” Damien said.
Then he noticed the loosely laced shirt that Ezekiel wore. It was open enough that he could see the man’s chest. See where the red mark that Damien had previously been shown, which had helped convince him of Ezekiel’s identity, was gone.
“Are you even my brother at all?” Damien hissed.
“I am a true Archdall. You are the impostor!” Ezekiel shouted. “Look at my face. It is reflected in dozens of portraits all over this house. The Archdalls are fair-haired and blue-eyed, going back to our Saxon ancestors. You are the one born on the wrong side of the sheets. And your face is proof! I should have been duke!”
Smoke was beginning to seep out of the door, funneled upward by the chimney effect of the stairwell. It stung Damien’s eyes, making him want to cough. But Ezekiel had descended a few more stairs in a rush, rounded a corner and now had a direct line of fire to Damien. His face was red and contorted into a rictus.
“I grew up in poverty. My mother worked as a common governess, and I had to take a trade!”
Ezekiel spat the word as though it were an obscenity.
“While you squandered your rank and your position in society, I had to live as a peasant. The true Duke of Winterleigh! I plan to rectify this injustice now.”
