Chapter 26
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
“Faster,” Simon instructed under his breath. The wheels of the carriage in front of him shrieked against the road, kicking up mud and gravel as Simon urged his horse forward. His focus was locked on the carriage.
Grace Langston was getting away. Coward.
Simon gritted his teeth, pushing his horse harder. Beside him, his companion rode alongside him but had yet to say a word. They had been riding for miles, neither willing to lose sight of their prey.
A glance over his shoulder revealed the constables trailing behind, their shouts nearly lost beneath the thunder of hooves.
“She’s desperate,” Simon muttered, keeping his eyes on the carriage. “She must know we’ve cut off every route out of the country.”
“She won’t go down without a fight,” came the reply.
Simon scoffed. “Let her fight, but she is not going to get away now.”
Grace Langston might have ears in his own house, but Simon had contacts of his own as well. He had spent days gathering information, following trails that had nearly gone cold, paying off the right people.
And it had paid off as he had gotten a tip that she would be leaving town tonight.
Now was their chance of catching her. They were close, but before they could close the distance, something unexpected happened.
The carriage lurched violently. The door swung open, and before the wheels had even come to a full stop, Grace stepped down as though she were merely arriving at a social engagement.
The nerve of this woman. Simon had never before met anyone who thought themselves above any consequence.
Simon yanked his reins, his horse rearing before settling beneath him. His companion did the same, pulling up beside him.
Grace barely spared a glance at the constables who dismounted around her. Her focus was solely on Simon.
“Ah, Your Grace,” her voice was smooth, almost amused. “I was beginning to wonder when you might arrive, though I believe that you have caught me at quite the inopportune time.”
“Well, then…” Simon took a step towards her. “… we will not take up too much more of it.”
“I would be careful about inconveniencing me like this,” Grace warned. “You think you’ve won because you’ve caught up to me, but you have made the same mistake twice now, Your Grace.”
Simon pressed his lips together into a thin line. “And what mistake would that be?” he asked.
“You believe that your duchess is safe.” Grace let out a soft laugh, shaking her head as though the very thought amused her. “But even now, someone is preparing to kill her again. And this time, you will not reach her in time.”
Simon did not flinch. He did not so much as blink. Instead, he smiled.
Grace’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Is that amusing to you?”
“Not at all,” Simon shook his head. “If anything, I am quite concerned about the well-being of my wife. Perhaps we should ask her if she feels threatened.”
Simon gestured to his riding companion, who was wearing a hood and was dressed in Rowan’s clothing. Grace turned, unimpressed.
“I am not sure how helpful Rowan would be in this situation,” Grace replied, though her voice sounded uncertain.
The companion lowered the hood.
“Lovely to meet you again,” Rachel smiled, revealing herself at last. She met Grace’s gaze without an ounce of fear.
For the first time that night, true surprise flickered across Grace’s face.
“Who,” she stuttered, “is the woman back at the estate?”
Rachel and Simon exchanged a knowing smile.
“Perhaps your intelligence is lacking.”
Grace finally understood that she had been tricked.
“How very predictable,” her voice rose with anger. “I should have seen this coming. This is what men do. You lie. You trick. You abuse. None of you is an exception.”
“Tell me, Grace, why did you do this to my family?” Simon’s jaw tightened.
“Why?” she echoed, raising a brow. “Because I do the same things men do for a living. The only difference is that when I do it, I am called a villain. When men do it, they are called powerful.”
Simon’s stare bore into Grace, his patience worn thin. “That is not an answer.”
“Oh, but it is,” Grace said. “What is it that men have always done? They use. They take. And when they are done, they discard. But me? I play the same game, Simon. And you do not like that, do you?”
Simon exhaled slowly through his nose. “My father never—”
“Your father needed only a strong drink,” Grace interrupted, “and he embarrassed himself happily.”
Simon noticed Rachel growing uncomfortable beside him, but he did not move. His expression remained perfectly still.
“You lured him in,” he said.
“What difference does that make?” Grace pressed. “He did what all men do and tried to erase the evidence.”
Simon took a step forward. “And you saw an opportunity.”
“Wouldn’t you?” she smirked shamelessly.
“You tried to blackmail my father.” Simon’s voice was cold, stripped of all emotion.
“Of course, I did. And why not?” Grace let out a soft, mocking sigh. “He used me after all. Why should I not have asked for something in return?”
“And when he refused?” he prompted, his heart now hammering inside his chest.
“Oh, Simon. Refused is too soft a word,” Grace smirked. “Your father was not a fool. He did not beg or plead. No, he threw me out like I was filth on his boots. As if I had not shared his bed. As if I had not given him a night he would remember for the rest of his short, miserable life.”
“So, you sent someone to kill him.” Simon’s voice was like ice. All these years, he had spent trying to track down the murderer and their motive, and now, he had finally arrived at the truth.
“Oh, please. I only meant to frighten him. I wanted him to know what it was like to be powerless, to feel what I felt when he dismissed me like a common whore,” she continued. “And it would have stopped there, had your mother not been present.”
Simon’s vision blurred with red, and he felt that his knees would give out.
“You killed them,” Rachel said.
Grace’s expression did not flicker. There was no remorse there, only a cold admission, as though she had not changed the entire trajectory of Simon’s life with one decision.
“Killing implies that I intended it to happen. I did not want it to get to that point, for I had only sent a man to make a point. Which I felt was needed,” she said.
“But the woman interrupted. She died because she made a choice. Women who stand up for their husbands are the same as the men they protect. She could have walked away and saved herself. But instead, she fought for a man who thought she was replaceable. And what do you think that got her?”
“She had better morals than you ever will,” Simon barked.
“Like I said, what did those morals get her?” Grace laughed softly, shaking her head. “It got her nothing. And that is the true tragedy, is it not?”
“You deserve to die for what you’ve done,” Simon warned. He had thought about this moment for so long—the moment that he finally got his hands on the murderer.
Grace’s smirk widened. “Then do it, Your Grace. Strike me. Raise your hand and show your wife what kind of man you really are.”
Simon raised his pistol before he realized it.
It was instinctive. The constables stood waiting.
Simon knew that if he chose to go through with it, he would not suffer the consequences.
She had already admitted to the murder, and Simon could make a case for himself that it was only an act of delivering justice.
But then he noticed how scared Rachel seemed. She had shriveled up, folding her arms out in front of her.
He could not do it. Not in front of her.
But most of all, he would not let Grace turn him into the very thing she believed all men to be. Slowly, Simon lowered his hand.
Grace’s smirk faltered, just for a fraction of a second.
“Scared?” she taunted. “Just like your father.”
Simon’s voice was calm when he spoke again, “I will not dirty my hands with you.” He turned to the constables. “Take her. Make sure she is punished for her crimes.”
The men stepped forward, grabbing her arms before she could react.
“Oh, Simon, you are a fool! You think justice will save you? The world does not punish men for their sins, and it will not punish me for mine!” Grace laughed as she struggled against the constables’ grip.
Rachel stepped forward.
“You are wrong, Grace.”
Grace whipped her head toward her. “And what makes you so certain, you foolish girl?”
“Because this time, it is not a man who will be delivering your punishment. The law will deal with you,” Rachel said.
Grace’s expression froze, as though she had finally realized that she could not talk herself out of the mess that she had created.
“You will regret this,” she warned.
“Sure, tell that to the constables.” Simon gave her one last glance as they dragged her away, her shouts fading in the distance.
Finally, it was over.