Saving Grace (Fair Cyprians of London 1)

Yet even as she felt her balance going she plotted how she could use the force of her fall and the angle of her trajectory to her advantage.

Her aim was not perfect but good enough.

With a scream of pain Laurence released her as the point of the hatpin drove through the thin flesh between his thumb and forefinger.

“David, hold him!” Grace shrieked as she sprawled beside them, and with surprising agility David flung out an arm which found its mark, though Laurence would be only temporarily overcome.

Grace scrambled to her feet as she sought an escape for both of them, knowing Laurence’s wound was not debilitating and that once he tore the deadly point from his flesh he’d be like a mad dog.

She was still wearing her high-heeled half kid boots. Grasping the chair to balance herself she brought her right foot down sharply upon his hand, then bent quickly to snatch the hatpin from his grasp before brandishing it in line with his right eye.

“An eye for an eye,” she hissed above his screams, as if she really could carry out the gruesome threat.

“Stop the bitch! David, she’s mad!” Laurence shrieked. “She has a needle pointing at my eye!”

With shaking hands, Grace held the needle steady. Never had she felt so fuelled by venom. This man deserved everything he had coming to him. He’d destroyed her life. She drew in a breath and forced herself to speak evenly. “Tell David what you did to me. Tell him what you did and why you did it.”

Infuriatingly, the corners of Laurence’s mouth turned up. He’d stopped his shrieking. He drew out the pause while Grace’s trembling increased.

Mary, Mother of God, please make him admit the truth.

She’d believed herself forsaken years ago but if someone would just hear her prayer she’d never ask for anything again.

Laurence gave a little laugh and swivelled his eyes in David’s direction. “Would you believe what a whore will extract under duress?” he drawled. “David, I suggest it’s time to summon the full force of the law before your afternoon’s dalliance gets even more expensive and there’s blood everywhere.”

Tensely, Grace watched the play of emotions cross David’s face. To her relief there was no uncertainty.

David shifted position, as if to anchor his cousin more securely beneath him. “Answer her, Laurence.” There was a curious note to his voice.

Grace flicked her tongue over dry lips. “Tell David about the letter.” Her whisper was barely audible. “About where you found it.”

She registered David’s new awareness in the level, warning tone he used to repeat, quietly, “Yes, Laurence, tell me about the letter. Where did you find it?”

His request was greeted by silence. Grace lowered the needle menacingly, aware Laurence had the power to knock her off balance again but that he knew the risks he took to do so.

The silence lengthened. Grace made a small movement he was obviously unwilling to see translated into action, for finally he muttered, “I found it in Grace’s room.”

“Grace’s room?” repeated David.

Clearly David had been expecting some momentous disclosure yet his tone registered shocked disbelief. “In the attic? What were you doing there?”

After a reluctant pause Laurence muttered, “Waiting for her. I had a proposition to make. While I was waiting I went through her drawers.”

“How dare you?” David’s voice dripped disgust. He gripped a handful of his cousin’s hair and yanked.

Laurence screamed and jerked. Not too vigorously, though, for Grace kept the needle positioned within a few inches of his eye. His tone was whining, self-justifying, as he replied, “Your mother was concerned at the inappropriate friendship between the two of you. She sanctioned me.”

Grace drew in a shuddering breath then whispered, “She didn’t sanction you to do what you did two days later.” Hatred filled her, making her voice hoarse and unsteady as she demanded, “Tell David what your proposition was!”

Laurence twisted his head away from the point of the needle and Grace moved accordingly. He muttered, “I wanted Grace to be my photographic model. She was so willing to give you hours of her time to paint her I assumed she’d be just as happy to oblige me with a few moments to photograph her.”

Grace lowered the needle a fraction. “Yes, but what did you propose … exactly?”

Silence.

Furiously, Grace stabbed the needle into his shoulder, raising it above his eye once again as he yelled with pain.

“All right, I threatened I’d show your mother the letter I’d found in Grace’s drawer.”