Page 87 of The Unfortunate Debutante
“Your father hated your grandfather and refused to initiate any contact between you and him,” Peter explained. “However, David met with your grandfather on a few occasions.”
“David did?” How could David keep that secret from her? Her family should have told her that her grandfather was still alive.
“He did,” Peter confirmed.
“I should have been told,” she stated firmly.
Peter bobbed his head. “I agree. I argued that point with your father, but he refused to see reason.”
“You argued with my father?”
“Indeed. Your father was a vexing man, and I found his faulty logic to be quite idiotic,” Peter said, his voice rising in indignation. “He accused me of some horrible things, but he got what was coming to him in the end.”
“What did he get?” she asked, suddenly more afraid than before.
He sneered. “A painful death.”
Emma shook her head, trying to sort out what Peter had said, and what he didn’t say. Did Peter have a hand in her father’s death? But that was impossible. Her father had died from dysentery. Feeling bold, she knew there was only one way to find out. Meeting his gaze, she asked him directly, “Did you kill my father?”
Peter considered her for a moment, then revealed, “I did, but it was for us, my dear.”
Her mouth dropped open. “You killed my father!” she exclaimed, her voice becoming shrill. “How could you?”
“It was easy, actually. I placed arsenic into his sugar bowl,” Peter informed her, all-too-casually.
“You are a monster!” she cried as tears filled her eyes.
“Now you’re just being irrational,” Peter chided. “In time, you’ll see I did what I had to do to keep us together.”
Wrapping her arms around her waist, Emma responded, “No, I will not. You’re mad.”
Peter frowned. “You and I were always meant to be together, but your father told me to stay away from you…”
“I thought he gave you his blessing?” she interjected.
“He did,” Peter pressed, “but we had a difference of opinion towards the end.”
Finished with this horrible conversation, Emma turned her head towards the window, hoping that Simeon would find her in time. She had no doubt that he would search for her, but would it be too late?
“No one is coming to rescue you,” Peter said, as if reading her thoughts, “and if they do, they will be killed by the highly-trained men that are guarding this cottage.”
“I won’t marry you, Peter,” she insisted, her gaze meeting his. “I care for another.”
Peter rose from the bed and adjusted his blue jacket. “That’s a lie. I’ve been watching you closely, and I know you do not have a suitor.”
“He’s not my suitor,” she contested.
“I care not,” Peter said as he walked to the door and opened it. “You belong to me, and you soon will forget this other man, if you know what’s good for you. I hope when I return you will be more agreeable.”
The moment Peter slammed the door shut, Emma stepped over to the dressing table and looked for anything that might aid in her escape. Unfortunately, after a thorough search, she found nothing. She moved to the bed and dropped down onto it.
Think, Emma, she thought. How was she going to get herself out of this mess?
Suddenly, an idea occurred to her. She jumped up from the bed and hurried to the window. She unlatched it and pushed it open. Leaning out, she ran her hand along the uneven stones. She had no doubt that she could climb down this wall.
Emma could hear movement in the trees near the cottage, and she knew she needed to proceed cautiously. If she was caught by a guard, then Peter might tie her up… or worse. Frankly, she had no idea what Peter was capable of anymore.
Reaching into the pocket of her gown, she felt the heavy pistol weighing her dress down. She had one shot with the pistol. And she was a good shot.
