Read The Gallows Bride for Free Online Page B
Authors: Rebecca King
against the burning need to punch
something.
“ We were too late,” Eliza whispered, doing nothing to swipe
the tears from her drawn face. “Oh God, Edward, we were too
late.”
“ Let’s get you out of here,” Edward said gently, trying to
ease her into the study, only for Eliza to dig her heels in,
refusing to budge from the cold marble floor.
“ Where is she going?” Grief made her voice tremble.
“ We’re going to move her to one of the back rooms. She can
stay there until we can arrange the funeral. The maids will prepare
her,” Dominic moved forward and held her cold hands. “I am so very
sorry, Eliza,” he said softly, his chest tightening with guilt and
remorse.
Peter
couldn’t stand it any longer. Struggling to contain his grief, he
walked silently out of the front door, sweeping past Sebastian
without a glance. Once in the fresh air, he sucked in a deep breath
of the crisp morning breeze, desperately trying to regain some
control over his emotions. If it was his house, he would have no
hesitation in going back inside, slamming the door shut behind him
and smashing the place to pieces in an attempt to assuage his
burning rage. But it wasn’t his house, it was Dominic and Isobel’s,
and as a guest he had to respect their property. His inability to
vent his pain only increased the burning fury at the unfairness of
her death, and he struggled to control the raging emotions that
threatened to overwhelm him.
Determined to get Jemima inside, away from any prying eyes,
Peter strode to the cart and stood behind, waiting for the others
to join him. Within moments Edward, Dominic and Sebastian had
appeared on either side of him, helping to slide the board beneath
Jemima into their waiting hands.
They
carried her solemnly through the front door, past a weeping Eliza
and down the corridor toward the back of the house and the
servants’ quarters. Dominic had already ordered his butler to clear
a storage room, and the maids were just finishing carrying the last
of the boxes out of the room when they approached. Standing back
respectfully, they watched as Jemima was placed carefully on the
solitary table in the middle of the room.
Peter
paused for a few moments, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder
before reluctantly leaving the room. As he approached the main
corridor of the house, he could hear Eliza weeping, but couldn’t
bring himself to offer his condolences right at that moment. He
just needed to be alone.
At the
doorway to the library he paused and glanced into the main foyer. A
bitter pang of envy stole through him as he watched Edward sweep
Eliza high into his arms and carry her up the stairs to the privacy
of their rooms. Dominic drew Isobel into his arms for a hug,
clearly needing comfort himself.
The
sight of their intimate embrace left Peter feeling more desolate
than ever; it was a stark reminder of everything he could never
have for himself.
Quietly
closing the door behind him, he headed for the brandy decanter.
While he was pleased his friends had found happiness, a slow tide
of bitterness swept through him that he had no woman to come home
to now. No wife to have children with, and share the ups and downs
of everyday life with. No best friend, and no soul mate.
All he
had left now was a raging thirst for vengeance. Until his dying
day, he would not rest until Scraggan was brought to justice. He
owed it to Jemima to make sure her death wasn’t in vain. If that
meant hunting down the man responsible for setting her up, and
meting out his own justice, then so be it. He would face the
consequences with pride.
With the
image of Jemima’s cold and lifeless face firmly in his mind, Peter
took another long draught of his brandy and slumped back against
the chaise-lounge to make his own macabre plans.
Some
considerable time later, he was slouched, half-drunk, on the
chaise, when a visibly shaken Eliza sat down beside him. He
couldn’t summon the thoughts, or the interest, to ask her what
something.
“ We were too late,” Eliza whispered, doing nothing to swipe
the tears from her drawn face. “Oh God, Edward, we were too
late.”
“ Let’s get you out of here,” Edward said gently, trying to
ease her into the study, only for Eliza to dig her heels in,
refusing to budge from the cold marble floor.
“ Where is she going?” Grief made her voice tremble.
“ We’re going to move her to one of the back rooms. She can
stay there until we can arrange the funeral. The maids will prepare
her,” Dominic moved forward and held her cold hands. “I am so very
sorry, Eliza,” he said softly, his chest tightening with guilt and
remorse.
Peter
couldn’t stand it any longer. Struggling to contain his grief, he
walked silently out of the front door, sweeping past Sebastian
without a glance. Once in the fresh air, he sucked in a deep breath
of the crisp morning breeze, desperately trying to regain some
control over his emotions. If it was his house, he would have no
hesitation in going back inside, slamming the door shut behind him
and smashing the place to pieces in an attempt to assuage his
burning rage. But it wasn’t his house, it was Dominic and Isobel’s,
and as a guest he had to respect their property. His inability to
vent his pain only increased the burning fury at the unfairness of
her death, and he struggled to control the raging emotions that
threatened to overwhelm him.
Determined to get Jemima inside, away from any prying eyes,
Peter strode to the cart and stood behind, waiting for the others
to join him. Within moments Edward, Dominic and Sebastian had
appeared on either side of him, helping to slide the board beneath
Jemima into their waiting hands.
They
carried her solemnly through the front door, past a weeping Eliza
and down the corridor toward the back of the house and the
servants’ quarters. Dominic had already ordered his butler to clear
a storage room, and the maids were just finishing carrying the last
of the boxes out of the room when they approached. Standing back
respectfully, they watched as Jemima was placed carefully on the
solitary table in the middle of the room.
Peter
paused for a few moments, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder
before reluctantly leaving the room. As he approached the main
corridor of the house, he could hear Eliza weeping, but couldn’t
bring himself to offer his condolences right at that moment. He
just needed to be alone.
At the
doorway to the library he paused and glanced into the main foyer. A
bitter pang of envy stole through him as he watched Edward sweep
Eliza high into his arms and carry her up the stairs to the privacy
of their rooms. Dominic drew Isobel into his arms for a hug,
clearly needing comfort himself.
The
sight of their intimate embrace left Peter feeling more desolate
than ever; it was a stark reminder of everything he could never
have for himself.
Quietly
closing the door behind him, he headed for the brandy decanter.
While he was pleased his friends had found happiness, a slow tide
of bitterness swept through him that he had no woman to come home
to now. No wife to have children with, and share the ups and downs
of everyday life with. No best friend, and no soul mate.
All he
had left now was a raging thirst for vengeance. Until his dying
day, he would not rest until Scraggan was brought to justice. He
owed it to Jemima to make sure her death wasn’t in vain. If that
meant hunting down the man responsible for setting her up, and
meting out his own justice, then so be it. He would face the
consequences with pride.
With the
image of Jemima’s cold and lifeless face firmly in his mind, Peter
took another long draught of his brandy and slumped back against
the chaise-lounge to make his own macabre plans.
Some
considerable time later, he was slouched, half-drunk, on the
chaise, when a visibly shaken Eliza sat down beside him. He
couldn’t summon the thoughts, or the interest, to ask her what