By unspoken agreement, they headed toward Mira’s bedroom, the Aviary, in which Bella had hidden her bags. As they ran, they heard the thud of something falling to the ground, then heavy breathing, and another muffled cry. They raced past Mira’s silent room, following the sounds of struggle through the corridor and toward the walkway to Nicholas’s tower. As they neared the antechamber, they caught sight of a writhing tangle of limbs and satin.
Nicholas froze mid-stride, throwing out an arm to keep Mira back, and they both gasped at the scene before them.
Beatrix held a squirming Bella in front of her, a knife pressed to the delicate column of the younger woman’s throat. It might have been only an illusion, but even from several feet away and in the dim light of the hallway, Mira thought she could see the fluttering of Bella’s pulse beneath the blade. She bit her tongue to keep from calling out to her cousin, afraid she might startle Beatrix, force her hand.
Despite the threat to her life, Bella was putting up a fight. Her fingers dug into Beatrix’s arm, clasped around Bella’s waist, with enough force to make visible indentations, and she held her legs rigid, her dainty heels searching for purchase in the hallway carpet so that she could slow their progress.
“Beatrix.” Nicholas’s voice was gentle, reasonable, but it stopped Beatrix in her tracks as effectively as a shout. Her head flew up, eyes wide black holes in her face. Every muscle in her body seemed to contract, and the tip of the knife nicked Bella’s flesh. Bella let out a small squeak, but otherwise went still.
“Beatrix, where are you going?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
“To the allure.”
“Why?”
“I should think that would be obvious, Ashfield,” Beatrix replied, a ghost of a smile touching her lips. “I am getting rid of this…this viper,” she skimmed the blade down Bella’s neck, following the line of sinew standing out there from the young girl’s strain.
“Like you got rid of Olivia Linworth?”
“Oh, yes. Just exactly like that.” A thick liquid sound welled up from the depths of Beatrix’s throat, something like a laugh but dark and desperate. “So much neater than using the knife, don’t you think? Though not quite as satisfying.”
“Knife?” Nicholas asked. “You killed Tegen and Bridget as well?”
“Of course. Those little tarts sleeping with my husband right under my nose…I was mortified. If I’d been strong enough I would have killed your father, but instead I had to end the affairs by getting rid of the girls.”
Mira could keep quiet no longer. “Please do not hurt her, Lady Beatrix,” she pleaded, her voice taut with fear. “Please.”
Beatrix’s brows drew together, and her lips flattened in a smirking smile. “Miss Fitzhenry. I think I should be doing us both a favor by disposing of this wretched creature. She has spent the better part of a week defaming you. ‘Mira is so plain. Mira is so dull. Mira is so unsophisticated.’” Beatrix laughed again. “I am surprised you have not done her in yourself.”
Mira shot a quick glance at Bella’s face. Her cousin’s eyes were wide and imploring, her face a tight mask of fear. “She’s my family, my lady, and I love her.”
Her mind spinning, Mira cast about desperately for some argument that would dissuade Beatrix from her course. “Besides,” Mira stammered, “I realize that Bella is what society has made her to be.” Mira tried to capture Beatrix’s gaze with her own, willing the older woman to remember her humanity. “You understand that, don’t you?” she queried, forcing a note of sympathy into her voice. “How difficult it is to have no choices in this world? We’re all three of us victims of our lack of choices—you, me, and Bella. We share that.”
Beatrix rolled her eyes. “Honestly, Miss Fitzhenry, I have nothing in common with either you or this one.” The knife again pricked Bella’s delicate skin. “You are both grasping, looking for money and a title, just like that harridan Kitty Fitzhenry. I was never like that.”