Parting the Veil by Paulette Kennedy

CHAPTER 45

Eliza stared at the man who looked just like Malcolm. He was tied to a chair, his lean face gaunt, his left eye blackened and bruised. Still, he managed a smile. And in that moment, she knew.

“Gabriel?”

“The very same. And how good it is to finally hear my real name on your lips, mo chridhe.”

She tumbled out of the dumbwaiter, her mouth agape. “You . . . I . . .”

“I wooed you, I courted you, I loved you, and I married you.”

Eliza tilted her head, incredulous. “But . . . you’re supposed to be dead. I saw you, in your coffin.”

“It was a ruse. We’ve been pretending to be the same person for years. Ever since the fire. Get me out of these ropes and I’ll explain everything. The other half of me is still sleeping, but we have to make haste.”

Eliza didn’t know if she wanted to slap him, kiss him, or kill him. Instead, she cried.

“Darling, I love you for loving me enough to cry. But we do have to hurry. Malcolm’s gone barking mad.”

Eliza rushed to Gabriel’s side. Her fingers fervently worked at the knots binding his hands to the chair’s laddered back. The hands that had loved her, pleasured her, cherished her. It all made sense now—the differences in mood and temperament. But why had Malcolm imprisoned his own brother? Why the duplicity and the lies?

The room they were in was fully furnished, lit with warm lamplight. This had once been Beatrice’s room, she imagined. A sturdy bed stood in the middle of the chamber, a pair of leather riding boots propped against the footboard. On the opposite side of the room was a red door, its arched top ventilated by a small grate. She’d nearly gotten the first knot worked loose when there came the rattling of a key in the lock.

“Dammit, he’s heard us,” Gabriel whispered. “Get back in the dumbwaiter and hide.”

Eliza soared back to the cubby, pulling the door shut with a sliding sigh, leaving the top cracked just enough that she could see out. She watched as the door swung open and Malcolm strode in, dressed in his pajamas. It was bizarre, seeing them together in the same room. Like a trick from a carnival sideshow. They were a mirror image. Two sides of the same coin.

“I heard noise,” Malcolm said. He ran a hand over his hair and fixed Gabriel with a sullen look. “You know I don’t like my sleep interrupted.”

Eliza rolled her eyes. It took everything she had not to launch herself out of the cubby.

Gabriel laughed. “Probably just those pipes you’re always on about, brother. Say, are you ever going to feed me? I’m feeling rather peckish. And how long, exactly, do you plan on keeping me locked up?”

“Shut up!” Malcolm said. “We had a plan. You ruined it.”

Gabriel sighed. “We’ve been over this. Many, many times. I kept up my end of things, didn’t I? She’s with child. I’ve given you something you wouldn’t have without me.”

“And yet, you’d leave me!” Malcolm roared. “For her! You were the only person I could trust. She didn’t suspect a thing until you started breaking the rules!”

“She deserves to know the truth. You aren’t thinking clearly because you’re not well. And I’m sorry, but it won’t get better, your illness. We’ll make sure we see the game through until the end of your days, but not unless Eliza is a willing party to it.”

“I am not bloody dying!”

“You are, brother,” Gabriel said, his voice gentle. “Things are going more quickly now. It’s why you’ve changed. Why you’ve turned into this. Your mercury treatments are only poisoning your mind and prolonging the inevitable. You’re dying.”

Eliza gasped. The box she was in amplified the sound. Gabriel winced and swore beneath his breath. Malcolm had heard her. He stalked toward the dumbwaiter, his eyes gleaming maniacally. Eliza rested her fingers on the hatpin in readiness.

He flung open the door. “You clever little cunt.” He hauled her out of the cubby, lifting her by the elbow. “Neatly done. Well, what now? Our game is up.”

“We’ll tell Eliza everything and carry on. Or you can let us go. We’ll ride to Scotland and disappear.” Gabriel’s voice was steady, calm.

Malcolm sneered. “I don’t think so. Have you forgotten everything you’ve done?”

Gabriel gave a smoldering look. “Don’t.”

“Malcolm, please. You’re hurting me,” Eliza said. His fingers were digging like daggers into the flesh of her arm as he held her tightly. “We can work this out. I understand why you’ve done what you’ve had to do.”

“You don’t understand. You can’t,” Malcolm said, spittle flying from his lips. “You were going to take my only brother away from me!”

“No! I didn’t know anything, I swear it.” Eliza’s free hand hovered over the hatpin’s pearl. Not. Yet. She gathered her wits. If she’d learned anything about Malcolm, it was that flattery dissolved his rancor. He craved the sort of approval his father had never given him. She sought the frightened little boy behind the bitter man, reaching for the right words to disarm him. “You’re so clever to come up with such a ruse. To hide Gabriel in plain sight! I never suspected a thing.”

Malcolm’s grip on her arm eased slightly. “You didn’t?”

“No! I’m ever impressed by your brilliant mind. And even though you’re angry with me right now, we can work through this together, because you love me. I felt it that day by the pond. That was you, wasn’t it? And it was real, Malcolm. It was honest and true!”

“But you don’t love me. You love him.”

“I love you too, Malcolm,” Eliza lied. “I do. I love you both.”

Gabriel met her eyes and gave a small nod.

Encouraged, Eliza pushed onward. “I’ll take care of you in your sickness, I promise. Things can be as they were—as you and Gabriel planned. I’ll keep your secrets. No one will ever know.”

“None of this is Eliza’s fault,” Gabriel said.

“Aren’t you worried what she’ll do? Who she’ll tell?” Malcolm spat. “Have you forgotten? As an officer, you’d be looked upon as a deserter from the Royal Navy during a time of war. If they discover you’ve neglected your duties to play dead all this time, they’ll court-martial you. You’ll likely hang for treason. I’d reckon she knows about your killing Eastleigh now, too. You can’t trust her. We can’t trust her.”

Eliza drew in a steadying breath. “You killed Eastleigh?”

Gabriel sighed. “Yes. I followed you to Southampton when you left me. I was in the room next to yours at the hotel the entire time. I followed Eastleigh to the station after I saw you together on the street. The eleven o’clock was reliably on schedule. I only did it to keep you safe. It was a bloody business, darling, but necessary. I’m sorry.”

“Oh my God.” He’d killed to keep her from a man she’d nearly given herself to in desperation. A man who had forced Ada into concubinage. “You really killed him?”

“If you only knew the extent of what Eastleigh’s done . . . what he was capable of . . .”

Malcolm laughed. “See? She’s horrified by you. You’re only a murderer to her now.” He forced Eliza against the stone wall, one of his hands curling around her throat, a feral madness glinting in his eyes. The scald mark on his face reddened beneath its oozing blisters. “She’ll ruin you, brother. Ruin us! Do you really want to swing for her duplicitous cunt? Better for her to die, I say.”

Malcolm lifted her by the throat and a thousand pounds of lead dropped in her stomach as her legs went numb beneath her. No. No, she wasn’t going to die this way. Not here. He wasn’t going to kill her. He wasn’t going to kill her baby. Gabriel’s baby.

“Malcolm, no!” Gabriel roared. “Let her go!” He bucked in the chair, futilely trying to get to her despite his fetters. It toppled over, and he lay there helpless, panting and wincing in pain.

Eliza kicked, her feet finding no purchase as Malcolm’s long fingers closed around her throat, squeezing painfully. Her heartbeat surged as her fingers found the hatpin. She drew it out. The room grew black around the edges, her consciousness flickering like a flame starved of air. She grasped the hatpin in her fist, blindly stabbing, again and again, until she felt his flesh give way.

Malcolm howled in surprise as she pushed the pin to the hilt. He released her and stumbled against the wall. She’d gotten him in the gut, the red stain of his blood blooming through the fabric of his pajamas as he clutched his side.

She scrambled over to Gabriel, her throat throbbing with pain. Her clumsy, shaking fingers worked at the knots. His eyes met hers. “No, my darling,” he said sadly. “You need to go.”

“I’ve almost got it . . . I . . . ,” she rasped.

“You goddamn whore!” Malcolm screeched, fixing his wild gaze on Eliza. He hurtled forward, blood seeping between his fingers as he pulled the hatpin free and threw it to the floor.

“Eliza! Run!”

Eliza looked at Gabriel and thought of their baby in her womb—the child they’d made from their passion for one another. A child whose heart would cease beating if hers did. She thought of Lydia, and Albert, and Mimi Lisette. She thought of the pale, lifeless girl at the bottom of a pond made of glass, unloved and drowning in her guilt and grief. And she ran.