“Shut up!” her uncle snapped, and the barrel of his gun pressed even harder against her.
“Not another word, Lucy,” Gregory warned. He still wasn’t sure how the hell he was going to get out of this, but he knew that the key was to keep Robert Abernathy as calm and as sane as possible.
Lucy’s lips parted, but then their eyes met…
And she closed them.
She trusted him. Dear God, she trusted him to keep her safe, to keep them both safe, and he felt like a fraud, because all he was doing was stalling for time, keeping all the bullets in all the guns until someone else arrived.
“I won’t hurt you, Abernathy,” Gregory said.
“Then drop the gun.”
He kept his arm outstretched, the gun now positioned sideways so he could lay it down.
But he did not let go.
And he did not take his eyes off Robert Abernathy’s face as he asked, “Why do you need her to marry Lord Haselby?”
“She didn’t tell you?” he sneered.
“She told me what you told her.”
Lucy’s uncle began to shake.
“I spoke with Lord Fennsworth,” Gregory said quietly. “He was somewhat surprised by your characterization of his father.”
Lucy’s uncle did not respond, but his throat moved, his Adam’s apple shifting up and down in a convulsive swallow.
“In fact,” Gregory continued, “he was quite convinced that you must be in error.” He kept his voice smooth, even. Unmocking. He spoke as if at a dinner party. He did not wish to provoke; he only wished to converse.
“Richard knows nothing,” Lucy’s uncle replied.
“I spoke with Lord Haselby as well,” Gregory said. “He was also surprised. He did not realize that his father had been blackmailing you.”
Lucy’s uncle glared at him.
“He is speaking with him now,” Gregory said softly.
No one spoke. No one moved. Gregory’s muscles were screaming. He had been in his crouch for several minutes, balancing on the balls of his feet. His arm, still outstretched, still holding the gun sideways but steady, felt like it was on fire.
He looked at the gun.
He looked at Lucy.
She was shaking her head. Slowly, and with small motions. Her lips made no sound, but he could easily make out her words.
Go.
And please.
Amazingly, Gregory felt himself smile. He shook his head, and he whispered, “Never.”
“What did you say?” Abernathy demanded.
Gregory said the only thing that came to mind. “I love your niece.”
Abernathy looked at him as if he’d gone mad. “I don’t care.”