Page 86 of The Lady Glass
Lewis dismissed his apology with a menacing chuckle, his easy smile sliding across his face. If only Rolland had seen it for the mask it was. “I wish I could accept your apology, but what is done is done.”
Rolland inched closer, his hands still poised in the air. “It’s never too late.”
“I’ve killed two men,” Lewis said, shaking his head. “I have chosen my path.”
His eyes said otherwise. They were pleading for help, but he was too stubborn to allow it.
“If it’s debts that hold you down, I have prize money from the war I can give you. You’re not alone anymore.”
Theresia was on her feet now, but what would she do? She hadn’t the weight to tackle Lewis from behind, and running would only get her shot.
“The past no longer matters, Rolland. I’ve taken care of myfuture myself.”
“What was the point of this house party, then, if not to band together?”
“The point? There wasn’t a better way to distract you or to pass the blame. It was the ultimate puzzle. Think of it. All the most complex, morally ambiguous characters are all in London at the same time as the murder. It took quite a bit of planning.”
A pit formed in Rolland’s stomach. “Then, the party wasn’t Marcus’s idea after all.”
For the first time, guilt crept into Lewis’s features. “Your homecoming changed everything. Suddenly you were back in my life. I suppose I wasn’t ready to end our friendship completely. When Marcus suggested a ball to get you back into Society, I figured there was a way to have one last hurrah and to further my own purposes at the same time.”
Lewis had played intelligently, too intelligently. The only way to sway him now was with the same emotion Rolland still saw a hint of. “What sort of future is worth killing two people and threatening two more for? Put the gun down, Lewis, and let’s figure this out together. No one cares for you as much as we do.”
Lewis smirked, but it was laced with sadness. “I’m in too deep now. I have to cut ties with the past—including anything that has to do with my father’s weak blood and heritage. I ride to the port tonight and then on to France. There I will be rich, happy, and a hero.” He lifted his free hand in emphasis, then dropped it to his side “This is goodbye, old friend.”
Rolland swallowed back the bile in his throat. This couldn’t be the Lewis he knew. This couldn’t be the end of their friendship—of Rolland’s life. “Please, Lewis. Evan... will you punish all of England because of one man’s unstable mind?”
Lewis’s hand tightened visibly on the gun’s handle. “Great Britain can manage its own empire, but my mother’s people need their leader back. And before all of Europe strips thempowerless.”
Lewis’s mother was French? How had Rolland not known this? He’d never asked about her because she’d died in Lewis’s childhood. “Listen, France has Louis XVIII now to lead it. They are not without a monarch. The council in Vienna will see France is well represented; you’ll see.”
“It is weeks away, and France has been all but excluded from everything. But with the return of Napoleon, there won’t be any reason to negotiate away his conquests.”
“You can’t free Napoleon, Lewis. It’s impossible.”
“Not alone, but the wheels are already turning. France will see victory again. And I will have a life of honor.”
An eerie light crept into his eyes. There was no reasoning with him. Whether he was mad like his father or just a traitor to his kingdom made no difference. He planned to kill Rolland and Theresia. Rolland couldn’t let that happen, least ways not to Theresia. He would die if it meant she could live.
But she acted before he could.
She yanked Lewis’s gun arm to the side and brought up her knee.
Lewis was caught off guard, but it wasn’t enough to bring him down. Rolland dove low, barreling into Lewis side. They barely missed knocking Theresia over as Lewis fell to the floor. Her back was up against the desk, but their forms blocked her exit to the door. Rolland wanted her to run, to save herself, but he couldn’t help her until he subdued Lewis.
He pushed Lewis’s gun hand to the floor and tried to wrestle the weapon from his hand, all while pinning Lewis’s body to the ground with his own. Lewis, however, had managed to get his leg underneath Rolland and pushed against him with a sudden, hard thrust. Rolland lost his grip on the gun as his body shifted. The movement created enough space for Lewis to shove him to the side, throwing Rolland toward Theresia.
He tried to curl away from her, but he slammed into her legs. Lewis took advantage of the moment of distraction and threw himself onto Rolland, his knee landing on his chest. The air left him, and Lewis trained his gun on him once more.
“I wouldn’t move if I were you,” Lewis growled.
“You wouldn’t kill me,” Rolland said, his breathing difficult under Lewis’s weight.
“I’m sorry, Rolland. I’ve never been sorrier in my entire life.”
“Don’t do it, Lewis,” Rolland begged.
“For France.” Lewis extended the gun until the barrel was against Rolland’s forehead. “Goodbye, Rolland.”
