“He lunged at me with a knife,” Robert explained, his hands still shaking. “We struggled and I wrestled the blade from his hand. He came at me again and, in his velocity, was impaled on the knife. He crumpled to the ground.”
“He deserved it.” Charles sighed. “I should not say it of my own brother, but he was a monster. He deserved it—and worse. Is he dead?”
“I don’t know.” Robert wailed. “I ran in here.”
“Of course, Robert.” Adrienne said softly, handing Colin to Marjani and going to her brother-in-law. “Come, let’s wash your hands.”
“No.” Robert pulled away.
“Dr. Halifax is correct.” Charles said. “We can’t just leave Giovanni in the street. We must do something with him.”
“That’s just it!” Robert moaned. “I did nothing! I did nothing! I’m a physician. It’s my duty to assist all men who are harmed. I took an oath. It’s my duty! And, yet, I harmed him and I did nothing to save him. I ran!”
“Calm yourself, Robert.” Adrienne said softly.
“I had a duty!” Robert said, his eyes welling up with tears. “Primum non nocere! First, do no harm!”
“Help me, Charles,” Adrienne whispered, turning to look for the footman. However, he had already left the room.
“Went downstairs.” Marjani shook her head. “Can’t blame him—villain or no, the man’s still Charles’ brother.”
“I must go, too.” Robert said quickly. “I don’t know what I was thinking.”
“Stay here, Robert.” Adrienne argued.
However, Robert ignored his sister-in-law’s pleas. He rushed down the narrow stairs—shocked to find Charles returning.
“Where’s your brother?” Robert asked.
“Gone.” Charles shrugged. “Nothing but a pool of blood left behind.”
“Marie,” Robert gasped. “She’s got him.”
“There’s an unholy alliance—whether or not my brother lived—to have his body in control of Marie Laveau will not benefit any of us.” Charles muttered.
Meanwhile, Ulrika Rittenhouse limply allowed Arthur to slip her dressing gown past her arms and over her shoulders. He laughed as he tied the robe closed in front of her.
“Gotta say,” Arthur grinned, “I don’t mind you like this. All slack-jawed and passive. Sure, you’re not as beautiful as when you’re fueled by your anger, but you’re certainly much more agreeable.”
Ulrika grunted—unable to speak clearly from the potent herb that Arthur had given her.
“Now, then, Pet.” Arthur chirped. “You gotta get your words goin’. You’re no good to me just droolin’ and spittin’.”
Ulrika teetered backward, but Arthur caught her before she fell. He took her hand and squeezed it violently. He knew that his grasp must have hurt her, but she did not respond at all.
“Say, I could get used to this.” Arthur guffawed.
“Listen, Ginger, you’re goin’ to lead me to the diamond. Understand?”
Ulrika walked unsteadily forward with Arthur still grasping her hand.
As they approached the door, Arthur paused as he heard someone approaching Ulrika’s bedroom. A knock on the door made Arthur’s heart race.
“Now, what?” Arthur mumbled to himself.
At that very moment, Cecil took a deep breath and sat down on the bed next to the body of the man he knew as both Mr. Punch and Julian, Duke of Fallbridge. “So,” Cecil began. “You call yourself Mr. Scaramouche?”
“I do.” Scaramouche answered, extending his neck rigidly.
“You’re different than Mr. Punch and His Grace?”
“I should say I am.” Scarmouche said stiffly.
“Are you new?”
“Hardly.” Scaramouche clucked his tongue.
“But, this is the first I’ve heard of you. Neither His Grace nor Mr. Punch has mentioned you.”
“Are you surprised? Punch is no better than a naughty child and the other one—His Grace, as you call him—is a coward.”
“Shall we talk for a moment?” Cecil asked, unsure of how to continue and wishing that Robert was with them. Robert would have known how to handle this unexpected shift.
“Talk? What makes you think I’d want to talk with you? You don’t interest me.” Scaramouche responded curtly.
“Why?” Cecil grunted. “I say, I mean, what do you want?”
“Shall I give you my list” Scaramouche hissed. “Shall I regale you with the litany of the crimes I’ve endured? Would you like to hear what I’m owed?”
“You’re quite an angry fellow, aren’t you?” Cecil sighed.
“You have no idea!” Scaramouche shouted.
“Would it be possible to mollify you?” Cecil shrugged.
“Perhaps,” Scaramouche scowled.
“And how might I do that?”
“You can begin by returning my property.” Scaramouche frowned.
“Your property?”
“Beginning with my dog!” Scaramouche bellowed. “Where’s my Toby?”
“In the kitchen with Meridian.” Cecil responded.
“My Toby is with the servants?”
“Yes.” Cecil nodded.
“Fetch him for me! Immediately!” Scaramouche demanded. “And, then, we shall begin to sort through the inventory of things which I am owed.”
Did you miss Chapters 1-251? If so, you can read them here.
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