Page 121 of Unmasking the Diamond
Luca instinctively extended his arm in front of her. “Charlotte, get behind us.”
“No.”
Her own voice startled her with its strength. She was done cowering. She stepped forward, shoulders squared. “I will not hide. Not anymore.”
The woman’s lips curved into a chilling smile. “How brave. Or perhaps foolish. Tell me, Miss Winslow, do you really think your defiance will save you?”
Charlotte met her gaze steadily. “What is it you want from us?”
The woman’s smile grew. “Isn’t it obvious? We want you to die.”
Alcott shifted slightly, his voice hard. “You’re outnumbered, and you only have two shots between you.”
“That is more than enough,” the woman replied, aiming squarely at Charlotte’s chest. “If anyone moves closer, I will put a bullet through Miss Winslow’s heart. Now, everyone place your pistols on the ground.”
When no one moved, Roger shouted, “Do it now!”
Luca and Alistair leaned down and placed their pistols onto the ground in front of them.
As Luca straightened, he said, “Enough of this, Miss Dawlish. You have lost.”
Miss Dawlish arched a brow. “Lost? I hardly think so. After all, I am the one holding the pistol.”
“You may hold the pistol,” Luca replied, “but we hold the truth. We know everything about The Chelmsford Asylum, aboutthe women who never left this place. If anything happens to me, my employees are under strict orders to publish every detail. You, your son, and the Duke of Brackenford will all be ruined.”
Miss Dawlish laughed—a sound both cold and shrill. “Ruined? Oh, Lord Luca, you put far too much faith in public opinion. The Duke of Brackenford has weathered worse storms and come out unscathed.”
“Does he know what you do here?” Luca pressed.
Miss Dawlish’s chin lifted. “He’s a wise man. He doesn’t ask questions he doesn’t wish to have answered,” she said. “Besides, what we do here is a tender mercy.”
“To whom?” Luca’s voice was incredulous. “You bring women here under false pretenses of madness and you kill them.”
The woman’s shrug was almost bored. “And we are paid handsomely for it.”
Charlotte’s voice trembled with restrained fury. “How many women, Miss Dawlish? How many lives have you stolen?”
“I’ve lost count,” Miss Dawlish replied. “But you would be surprised how few people notice when a woman disappears. A husband signs a paper, a family turns away, and the world continues on as if she never existed.”
Charlotte’s stomach twisted. “So you admit you killed the Duchess of Brackenford and Lady Coldwyck?”
“I admit nothing,” Miss Dawlish replied, her eyes gleaming with sick amusement. “But yes, those deaths were quite lucrative. And unlike most of our clients, their families paid handsomely to keep things quiet. I still receive residual payments for those ladies.”
“You are vile,” Charlotte spat.
Miss Dawlish laughed. “Oh, I cannot take all the credit. My son assists me in all things.”
Roger gave a theatrical bow. “It’s a family enterprise. Mother taught me everything I know.”
Charlotte’s hands curled into fists. “You will pay for what you have done. Every one of you.”
Miss Dawlish’s grin vanished, replaced by an icy glare. “And who will make us pay? You?” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “You will be dead before the hour is out.”
She flicked her pistol towards Mr. Bancroft and continued. “Open the cell door.”
Mr. Bancroft hesitated only a moment before obeying, the iron door screeching open in protest.
Miss Dawlish gestured with the pistol. “Inside. All of you. Now.”
