Page 92 of The Duke of Kisses
Chapter 17
Fanny slumped as David raced around the settee. She turned, her shoulder aching horribly, and watched as he grabbed his mother by the upper arms.
“Stop it!” he shouted in her face. “This ends now! Walter was going to kill her, and he already admitted killing George Snowden. I spoke with Scully in the stables and Mrs. Johnson in the kitchen. Aunt Catherine was in love with him. Furthermore, Fanny’s father brought a letter from George Snowden detailing his elopement with Catherine. He didn’t kidnap her.”
Fanny knew she’d been right. Later, she’d be happy about it. Now she was too overwhelmed with a dozen other, darker emotions.
“That’s a lie. Your father would be horrified by your allegiance to them.” Her eyes turned pleading. “David, I’m your family, not her. She’s no one from nothing.”
David pulled his hands away with such force that the countess stumbled backward.
“She’s everything,” Snowden said with quiet steel. “My daughter will make a fine countess to your son.”
Fanny stared at him, wondering if she’d heard him correctly.
The countess brought her hands to her face and started to cry. “I don’t want to believe it.”
Fanny saw the woman’s pain, heard it in the anguished tone of her voice. With great effort, she stood and went to David’s side. His arm came quickly around her.
“I’m sorry for your pain,” Fanny said quietly. “But you can see the painting he made. I believe he was designing how it might look.” Her stomach turned again, and she swallowed, trying not to heave as she had earlier. “I didn’t mean to kill him. I was only trying to survive.”
David’s arm squeezed her, and he pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead. “Look at her, Mother,” he said darkly. “She’s been stabbed. By Walter. You can’t dismiss that.”
The countess lowered her hands and wiped her face. She focused on Fanny, her lip trembling. “I can’t believe he could be capable of such a thing. Did he really say he’d killed Snowden?”
“Yes, and that he planned to…kill me the same way.” Her body shuddered, and she leaned into David. “I think I need to sit again.”
“I want to get you back to Stour’s Edge. Can you manage riding with me?” he asked tenderly, his face and voice so altered from the man who’d railed so violently at his mother a few moments ago.
“I think so.” She really had no idea, but she was desperate to leave this place.
“It’s time to let the past go,” Jacob said. His calm declaration surprised Fanny, and seemingly everyone else as they all swung their heads to look at him. He looked toward his father and then toward the countess. “Let it all go. There’s a chance to find some goodness with Fanny marrying her earl. Their marriage can’t erase the past, but it’s a hope for a better future.”
A heavy silence descended for a moment before Snowden cleared his throat. He glanced toward Jacob. “I didn’t know you had such a way with words.”
Jacob delivered him a pointed stare. “Father, it’s time to let itallgo. And that includes Ivy.”
Snowden nodded just once, his features a mix of sadness and determination.
West started toward the door. “I’m going to fetch the doctor. David, I’ll see you back at Stour’s Edge. One of you needs to get back soon before my wife tries to ride here, which would be terrible in her condition.” West strode from the house.
“We’ll go now,” Fanny said. “I can’t wait to leave.”
“What about Walter?” the countess croaked. “We can’t just leave him here.”
“We can, and we will,” David said. Fanny could feel his heart thundering in his chest. “I’ll send a cart to fetch him.”
David turned to Jacob. “Will you help me get your sister on my horse and lead hers back to Stour’s Edge?”
Jacob nodded.
“I’m picking you up now, my love.” David swept Fanny into his arms. She winced as pain shot through her anew. He carried her from the house and walked to his horse. “Ready?”
Jacob held out his arms, and David transferred her to her brother. Fanny looked up at him and smiled. “What happened to make you so nice?”
His gaze was so serious, so concerned, that she almost didn’t recognize him. “We’re family. I never liked the way that Mary—Ivy—left. I didn’t like how you left either.” He shot a disgruntled glower toward their father, who’d come outside after them.
“Hand her up,” David called from atop his horse.
