A Cold Legacy (The Madman's Daughter 3)

“Hello,” he said quietly.

Montgomery leaped off the desk and drew his pistol, aiming at Edward’s head. The girls let out squeals of fear—the last they’d seen of him had been the Beast wearing Edward’s body like a disguise.

“Montgomery, stop!” I yelled, throwing myself between them. “I told you to trust me! That goes for all of you. I’m the mistress now, and I promise you this man is no danger. It looks like the monster that locked us in the cellar, but it isn’t. This man’s name is Edward Prince. He’s a good man. A friend of ours who was sick, but he’s better now. He died when Hensley killed the Beast, but we’ve brought him back just like Hensley. He’s strong, and he can’t be easily killed. He can help us defeat Radcliffe.”

I took a deep breath. Montgomery’s pistol was still aimed in Edward’s direction. Even standing between them, I knew he could make the shot if he wanted to. I grabbed the barrel of the pistol and pointed it toward the ground.

“Montgomery, it’s Edward.”

He stared incredulously, the pistol still clenched tightly. “I don’t believe it,” he murmured.

Lucy took Edward’s hand in hers as a sign of solidarity, holding it tight, and he leaned into her slightly. McKenna cleared her throat and took a step forward.

“Mistress Juliet, with all due respect to your friend, Hensley wasn’t right in the head. What happened last night only proved that. How can we be certain your friend won’t fly into a similar rage?”

“Hensley had a child’s mind,” I countered. “And it had deteriorated over four decades. Edward is as healthy as he was before he died, and he’s trustworthy. The Beast is gone.”

Montgomery slowly holstered his pistol, as if the shock had only just worn off of him. He gave me a hard look. “Juliet. We need to talk. In private.”

He grabbed my arm and dragged me into the hall. Apprehension made my heart beat faster. This was the moment when I would find out which was stronger: the bonds of marriage, or the betrayal of having kept such a secret. He didn’t stop until we were in the alcove by the grand fireplace, far from prying ears. His blue eyes searched mine. “Have you gone mad?”

I pulled away, feeling guilty and stung all at once. “He isn’t dangerous anymore. We cured him by cutting out the diseased portion of his brain that manifested as the Beast. The conditions in the cellar kept his body in pristine condition, so there hasn’t been any deterioration. I’ve monitored him carefully. The Beast is gone.”

“But he’ll deteriorate over time.”

“Then we’ll worry about that in forty or fifty years. Not today.”

Montgomery paced back and forth in front of the hearth, a bead of sweat dripping down his face. “How did you convince Elizabeth to do such a thing?”

“I didn’t convince her. She never knew. I did the procedure, with Lucy’s help, and Balthazar’s.”

He stared at me in shock. After everything we’d been through, he still didn’t understand the level of skill—and determination—I had.

“You brought him back?” He shook his head. “That’s impossible. And I refuse to believe that Balthazar helped you. He’d never approve of that sort of work, and he’d have told me right away.”

“You know how he is with authority; he’ll obey if he thinks you’re the law. I convinced him I had more authority in this house than you did, and that he could never tell you. Be mad at me if you must, but not him. He made me promise to tell you the truth after the wedding. And now I am.”

He paced harder, dragging a hand through his loose hair. I feared he’d stomp back upstairs and put a bullet in Edward’s head at any moment.

“We need Edward,” I reasoned. “Hensley was nearly indestructible, and I’m almost certain it’s the same with Edward. I know you don’t like the science I used, but it might save the life of everyone in this manor.” An idea latched into my brain like a fever. It started as a small ache but it spread rapidly, an infection taking over my every thought, until I felt my mind was on fire. “We could even create more like him. There are a dozen bodies in the cellar and more in the monastery’s cemetery. We could bring them all back. An army of indestructible men fighting on our side. Radcliffe wouldn’t stand a chance.”

Montgomery’s jaw tightened. For a flash, there was fear in his eyes. It was the same look he’d given me in London when I’d proposed bringing the water-tank creatures back to life.

He leaned in, the fire throwing shadows over his face. “Don’t even think such things, Juliet.”

I took a step away from him, hair wild, pacing just out of his reach. “Why not? They’d be loyal to me, even more loyal than the servants are to Elizabeth. She only gave them back their hands or eyesight; I’d be giving them back their lives. It would be like the beast-men. Like Father. . . .”

Montgomery slammed his hand against the hearth loud enough to rattle the hanging portraits. “Your father?” Something dark crossed his face. “I thought you were done trying to be like your father. It’s your mother you should aspire toward. She never would have done such an ungodly thing. She wouldn’t have brought Edward back, and she certainly wouldn’t be talking about creating an undead army.”

I threw up my hands. “Maybe I’m not like her! You’ve been trying to steer my future toward her, but I can’t help what I am. It’s always been inevitable, don’t you see? Father’s inheritance is stronger. I’ve never had a choice, not really. It’s in my blood. I can’t fight who I am.”

“You don’t even know who you are!”

His hand dug into the wooden mantel above the fire so hard that his knuckles went white. I froze, surprised by his words. He stopped, too. Regret crossed his face and he turned away, but not before I saw panic there, too.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

I could tell by the set of his mouth that he was about to dismiss his words as nonsense fueled by anger. But then he looked at me—really looked at me, and something broke in his face. “It’s never going to stop, is it?” he said more to himself than to me. “You think you’re fated to be like him. You think it’s genetics and prophecy both.” He cursed softly under his breath.

Worry started to pull at me. “Montgomery . . .”