Page 53 of Taming a Beastly Duke
She ran directly into Lord Thomas as she hurried toward the Duke’s study. He, too, was going there, and he caught her with gentle hands by the arms.
“What is it?” he asked. His tone was suspicious, but his eyes held a certain gentleness and compassion that broke Lucy’s resolve.
“Lord Thomas, forgive me,” she said, dissolving into tears. “I should have never… I never wanted… I did not know…”
Lord Thomas put his arm around her, leading her away from the study and into the parlor. He sat her down and poured her a glass of water, handing it to her with a genuine kindness that made her tears flow faster.
“Calm yourself, Miss Potter,” he said, staring at her with more patience than she knew she deserved. “Drink this. When you are ready, tell me what has happened.”
Lucy sipped the water quickly, shaking her head.
“I must tell you now,” she said, barely managing to compose herself. “It is Edwin. He is the one who wanted to make His Grace ill, and I was the one helping him.”
Lord Thomas’s eyes widened, and she expected him to raise his voice at her. Yet he merely took a deep breath and nodded.
“Very well,” he said softly. “Tell me everything.”
Lucy nodded, relaxing when the gentleman did not berate her as Edwin had begun doing.
“He said he would become duke, and that I would be his duchess,” she whispered, covering her face with shame as she realized how ridiculous the words sounded aloud. “He murdered Charlotte and tried to frame the Duke because he wanted the duchy. When that failed, however, Edwin decided to murder His Grace, as well. He also murdered Mr. Morrison, to prevent him from uncovering what was truly wrong with the Duke. He made me lie about Miss Barrett and help him forge those letters. I kept everything secret, as I believed he loved me. But now…” she trailed off as she saw Lady Edith in the doorway with a sickening horror on her face, her sobs taking over once more. “I am truly sorry. I feel terrible, and I would do anything to undo what has been done.”
Lord Thomas leaped to his feet, taking Lucy’s hand and helping her stand.
“Quiet your tears, Miss Potter,” he said. “You cannot undo anything, but you can help prevent more harm. You must go to the constable and tell him everything you just told me.”
Lucy nodded, choking back a sob of gratitude. She rushed out the doorway, feeling freer than she had in months. I might live my years in a cell, but at least no one else will die because of me…
***
Thomas knew there was not a moment to lose. After sending Miss Potter to fetch the constable for the second time that day, Thomas hurried to the library. He recalled finding Charlotte’s journal once, a year or so ago, and he sought it out once more. He found it, opened it, and caught a loose page that fell out. He read it, surprised to see it was a letter she wrote to him, one which never reached him. He tucked it and the journal, the last few pages of which spoke more about Edwin and his machinations, and about Charlotte’s fear for her life.
Thomas raced up the stairs, barging into Marcus’s room just as Mr. Fletcher hovered over him with another treatment.
“Step away from my friend,” Thomas growled, striding over to the physician and grabbing him by the collar.
Edwin leaped up from his seat, trying to get between the men.
“What is this, Thomas?” he asked, the innocence in his voice sickening Thomas.
Thomas snarled at him, using one hand to hurl the journal and letter at Edwin.
“Do not speak to me,” he said. “I know what you have done. And you,” he paused, glaring at the physician, “you will never practice medicine again. If you manage to avoid a cell, that is.”
Mr. Fletcher quaked in Thomas’s grip.
“Please, milord,” he said, his typically smug expression twisted into terror. “I am not a true physician. I am merely a naturalist who appeals to clients who value privacy…”
“You are a quack,” Thomas snarled. “A joke. However, nothing about this is amusing. You tried to kill my friend, a reputable and notable duke. I suggest you confess before the evidence is presented.”
The illustrious physician shook his head, looking shocked and terrified. Edwin pushed Thomas away from the pretender, his eyes wild and nearly as fevered as Marcus’s.
“You must understand,” he said, shaking his head and laughing maniacally. “Marcus has to die. He does not deserve the duchy. It should have been mine. He is too weak to manage it. Charlotte’s death destroyed him. He is not fit to reign as duke.”
Thomas scoffed, moving away from Mr. Fletcher and cornering Edwin.
“Charlotte’s death, which you caused,” he said, ripping the journal from Edwin’s hands and waving it in his face. “She knew what you were planning, so you killed her. When you failed to pin her murder definitively on Marcus, you decided to kill him, as well.”
Edwin laughed, shaking his head as if it were ludicrous. When he realized he was caught, however, he sighed.
