Page 137 of Thief of the Ton
She pushed open the parlor door and froze.
Papa stood beside his chair, next to Mrs. Bates. In the center of the room stood three men. Two she didn’t recognize—they had thick-set frames and wore identical dark attire. But the third…
The third was the man from the night she’d held up the carriage.
The man who had shot her.
He stepped forward, licking his lips. “Ah, so your daughterisat home, Lord de Grande. You must have been mistaken earlier.” He nodded to his two companions, who moved to stand either side of Lavinia, blocking her exit.
Her gut twisted in fear. “Wh-what is this?” she asked. “Papa, who are these people?”
“I think you know precisely who we are,” the man said, “though, of course, I had no opportunity to introduce myself the last time we met.”
Her skin crawled at the triumph in his tone. He stepped toward her and smiled, his teeth gleaming, as if he wanted to rip her throat out. Then he inclined his head in a bow, so slight as to almost be considered an insult.
“Mr. Houseman, at your service,” he said. “I am also, of course, in the service of the Crown.”
Lavinia drew in a sharp breath to combat the nausea swelling within her.
“Lavinia de Grande,” he said, “you are charged with theft, highway robbery, and—”
“Don’t be a fool!” Papa cried.
“You’rethe fool,” Houseman said. “Take her!”
A hand grasped her arm, where the wound was still healing, and she cried out at the flare of pain.
Houseman’s eyes widened. “Iknewit! I shot a highwayman in the arm, just before he shot a footman in cold blood.”
Papa’s eyes widened. “You have no proof,” he said. “Leave my daughter alone—how dare you insult our good name?”
“Oh, I have proof, your lordship,” Houseman said. “Both Earl Walton and Lord Marlow have been very forthcoming, and have furnished me with enough evidence to convict you.”
Lavinia’s heart withered at Houseman’s words.
Lord save me—Peregrine!
He had betrayed her.
“Yourgood namewas ground into the dirt years ago, de Grande,” Houseman sneered. He gestured about the parlor. “You’ve only to look at this hovel to see how far you’ve sunk.”
Lavinia tried to free herself, but the hand on her arm tightened its grip, and another spike of pain shot through her body. A second hand took her free arm.
“This is outrageous!” Papa cried. “Mrs. Bates, fetch your husband!” He stepped forward, but Houseman drew a pistol out of his pocket.
“Stay right there!” he barked. “I’m authorized to shoot if necessary, and my reward will be the same whether I deliver the Phoenix alive or dead. Alive is preferable—we wouldn’t want to be denied the satisfaction of a trial, or an execution.”
Lavinia fought to draw breath. A roaring sound thundered in the distance, intensifying until her mind almost burst from the agony of it.
“Lavinia!” Papa pitched forward, and Mrs. Bates rushed forward to support him.
As Lavinia slipped into unconsciousness and felt herself being dragged away, she heard Houseman’s words, muffled by the blanket of oblivion, accompanied by a wail of despair from her father.
“Accept my condolences, Lord de Grande, for the loss of your daughter.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Peregrine drew Poseidonto a halt outside Springfield Cottage, then dismounted. The horse’s leg seemed to have healed, but nevertheless, despite his desire to see Lavinia again, he’d kept to a steady pace on the road so as not to overwhelm the animal. He patted Poseidon’s flank, then unstrapped the leather bag and its contents from the saddle.
