“The word of a thief. What good is that?”
“I knew it!” Bonham hissed. “Your wife denied the possibility that you had caught on to my financial indiscretions, but once I saw her notes, I knew she was lying.”
“I didn’t catch on to anything,” Sheridan said. “Vanessa did. She’s a clever sort, my wife.”
“She’ll be a dead clever sort if you don’t let us leave. Now!” He started dragging her around the desk, while Sheridan’s heart dropped into his stomach.
“You’re not leaving here with her,” Sheridan said, thrusting his hand in his fall to seize his pistol handle. Best to be prepared for anything. “Take me instead. That will make it more likely that you escape. And it will drive a stake through Mother’s heart. That’s what you want, isn’t it? To hurt my mother the way she hurt your family?”
As Vanessa’s eyes widened, Bonham scowled. “What do you know about it? You’ve never suffered a day in your life.”
“No? I lost my father and my uncle all in the same year, thanks to you. So I know quite a bit about suffering.”
Someone burst through the study door behind Sheridan. “William!” a voice cried. “What on earth are you doing?”
It was Mother, damn it. “Get out of here,” Sheridan said, never taking his eyes off Bonham. “I’ll handle this.”
“I’m not leaving,” she said stoutly. “Not until you tell me what’s going on.”
Sheridan debated how much to reveal. But she might know something the rest of them didn’t, something to help save Vanessa. “Bonham killed your husbands,” Sheridan said. “And Uncle Armie and Elias.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mother said. “He would never . . . He couldn’t . . .” She trailed off as she realized Bonham hadn’t defended himself.
“He’s not the man you think he is,” Sheridan said. “You would have known him as Henry Davenport.”
“Matthew’s brother?” she whispered.
“Yes. So you knew Henry, too, did you?” Sheridan asked.
“I never met him, no, but I heard Matthew speak of him. Matthew said he was quite clever.”
Bonham scowled at Sheridan. “How did you find out my real name?”
“I didn’t. My brother-in-law did. Once he realized you’d made yourself over, the rest was easy. You didn’t hide your tracks nearly as well as you thought.”
Bonham fixed Sheridan’s mother with a stare that would freeze blood. “Thanks to you, I lost everything, you know. Matthew killed himself, and my entire family was ruined, all because you thought him beneath you.”
“That’s not true!” Mother protested. “I would happily have married Matthew if I could have! But Mama had already convinced Papa to betroth me to Grey’s father in exchange for forgiveness of certain debts. They told me if I didn’t marry the duke, Papa would go to debtors’ prison. I was young, and I . . . didn’t understand I had a choice.”
“Liar!” Bonham spat, his face contorted with rage. “You broke Matthew’s heart. You told him you didn’t want him.”
Mother glared at him. “By the time Matthew proposed, I was already betrothed! And my fiancé threatened to kill Matthew if I so much as breathed a word about the circumstances of our impending marriage.” Her breath caught in her throat. “It didn’t matter. Matthew died anyway.”
“He didn’t die. He killed himself, you . . . you harpy! You might as well have tied the rope around his throat yourself.” Bonham’s pistol hand shook.
Sheridan’s blood ran cold. If that arse harmed Vanessa—“See here, Bonham, whatever your conflicts with my mother, my wife has done nothing to you. She doesn’t deserve to die. Take me instead.”
“The hell I will.” Bonham glanced from Sheridan to his mother. “If I take anyone in exchange, it will be the dowager duchess.”
God, the man’s hatred of Mother went beyond all bounds.
“I don’t understand, Will—I mean, Henry,” Mother said. “How could you pretend to be my friend this past year or more when secretly you despised me so?”
Sheridan wondered that himself. Perhaps Mother, as Bonham’s “friend,” could convince the arse to let Vanessa go.
If only the bastard would move his damned pistol. Sheridan was more than ready to shoot.
Gwyn burst into the room. “Mother!” she cried, trying to tug their mother from the room. “Come, we must go. Let Sheridan take care of this.”
“So,” Sheridan said to Bonham, “there’s four of us here now. Do you plan to kill us all? Because I swear that if you shoot Vanessa, you’re a dead man.” He stepped closer to the desk. “I will throttle you before you can even reload.”
Having seen Sheridan on the move—and his wife in the room—Joshua loomed up closer to the French doors, making sure not to be directly behind Bonham in case Sheridan got off a shot.
Gwyn at least knew to ignore the sight of her husband where he wasn’t supposed to be, but their mother was startled and clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out. As Bonham had said, he was no fool. When he saw her reaction, he turned toward the glass doors, and the pistol left Vanessa’s head for a few precious seconds.
Sheridan knew that might be the only chance he got, and apparently Vanessa read his intention, because in that moment, she twisted away from Bonham and his pistol. And Sheridan took his chance and shot.
The bullet went clean into Bonham’s head.
Then everything happened at once. Bonham crumpled to the floor. Joshua burst through the French doors and used his cane to sweep Bonham’s still-loaded pistol away from the man before bending to check Bonham’s pulse. And Vanessa threw herself at Sheridan.
“Oh, darling, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t realize he had sneaked in until it was too late to hide my notes, and he’d—”
“It’s fine, sweetheart. Nothing is your fault. You did well, and it’s over now. Finally, it’s over.” He grabbed her by the shoulders and ran his gaze over her. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?
