The smile remained but Gregory’s eyes took on an evil hue. “You are in shock from the loss of your dear friends, Sir Statham, may he rest in peace, Baron Witte, and the Marquise of Glauster. God rest their souls. Careful of your health, Lord Iliffe.”
Baron Iliffe swallowed, his skin turning an extreme shade of red. “You would have that whore?”
“Come now, William.” Gregory ran his fingers over Arabella’s cheek, ignoring the way she had flinched at that word. “Her future was your greatest concern, and now her future belongs to me. You should be pleased.”
Eyes pleading, Arabella called a stop to his game. “Enough, my love.”
Lilly, her lip shaking, could not wrap her head around such news. “But the banns have not been read...”
Drawing Arabella to stand, Gregory kissed her on the forehead and smiled a smile that said let me have my fun. “Never fear on that account. The special license is in my pocket, our bridesmaid is here, Miss Lizzy, of course, and her only living relation shall stand witness... as shall all of you. Once we are joined, William, I shall see you escorted back to your estate so that you may vacate it for sale. No point in leaving funds tied up in a pointless investment... you understand.”
Mouth opening and closing, finding no words, Dalton shot to his feet.
It looked for a moment like there would be violence, but Gregory turned, one-hundred percent the demon. “Sit or I shall consider having you thrown in debtor’s prison as well.”
* * *
“Did you not think the wedding exceptional?” Sprawled in a rocking carriage headed straight for London, Gregory chuckled. “Certainly her dress smelled of smoke and mud was under my lady’s nails when I slid the ring upon her finger... but never have I seen her more beautiful.”
His guest was less enthusiastic. William Dalton, ready to be ill, failed to answer.
“Come now... even you must see why that old goat Benjamin snatched her up, why all your dead mates spoke of her so often? She’s better between the sheets than they claimed, I must say. A real goddess.” Gregory added, grinning like a madman, “My goddess now.”
A disgusted throat noise and William snorted. “I would rather lie with a dog.”
“What do you imagine she is doing right now?” Brushing lint from his trousers, Gregory ignored the outburst. “I would bet ten pounds that she is with that hoary servant, feeding him soup, sweet little nurse that she is. She won’t have rested as I told her to. In fact, I am certain I will find her still dirty, her hair in tangles. Not every man’s expectations for their wedding night, I suppose. But you did try to shoot Payne... so you are responsible for my predicament. An apology is in order.”
The baron dared one last insult. “I was not aiming for Payne.”
Tutting, Gregory growled, “You are certainly not a sportsman. In fact, there is nothing I have seen you exceed at but pomp. It is the reason I saved you for last.”
Fear was there, a niggling suspicion burning though William’s veins. “Last?”
“I have taken your pride, your scant monies, your land, even your wayward baroness... all you have left is the Iliffe name and your life. Mrs. Harrow would give you the option of retaining one or the other. Truly, I don’t think my love considered what her recent request might entail... but who am I to argue with my lady when she would be merciful. Which, coward, shall it be?”
Swallowing, terrified, William asked, “What?”
“Well, I could kill you as I killed your friends, thus ending the Iliffe line immediately. But, there is a second option, should you wish to enjoy the life my wife desires you keep. Either way, at your ignoble death the title shall fade into obscurity. It could be tonight; it could be years from now. The choice of when is yours.”
Gripping the seat beneath him, Dalton cried, “I do not want to die!”
Three knocks upon the roof and the carriage came to a halt.
“I’ll do anything you want! ANYTHING!” Screaming, Dalton pled for his life. “Please!
“You wish to live? So be it. I will assure you are the last Baron Iliffe, and you can continue with your pathetic existence until she changes her mind.” Gregory made a grab for him, pulling the panicked man from of the carriage. “Castration, by all accounts is exceedingly painful. Scream all you will. No soul on my land will hear you.”
Epilogue:
Crescent Barrows was torn down to the foundations in the weeks following the notorious marriage of Mr. Harrow to Arabella, the last Baroness of Iliffe. In its place, a new house was erected, one as stark as the landscape yet brimming with life. On warmer days, Payne kept to the outdoors, smoking his pipe as he watched the children tussle under Magdala’s careful eye.
A son and a daughter ran wild, quarrelsome and equally affectionate. As passionate as their mother and as diabolical as their father, they roamed at will. Hugh was an older brother to them, Mary a playmate. Their best friends in the world were Mrs. Lizzy Bosworth's rambunctious daughters, though they had no taste for aunty Lizzy’s spinster sister, Lilly.
On the moors their mother raced upon her devil horse. Where Arabella went, Gregory Harrow followed, the pair inseparable. Over the years, Harding’s tales of their romance took on a mythic quality... their love more legendary than even the White Woman.
The End
* * *