Prince of Dreams (Stokehurst #2)(103)

Adam Milbank wanted to see Nikolas alone.

The note dropped from Emma's hand, falling gently to the floor. She remembered the things Adam had said about Nikolas, his words tumbling through her mind…

“I can't stop dwelling on what was taken from me. Your husband slithered into our lives and took everything I wanted…

“I'm going to even the score, and I promise you won't have to wait for long. I owe it to you, Emma as well as myself…

“My God, someone should do the world a favor and get rid of him—before he ruins any more innocent lives.”

“No,” Emma said, her fists clenching. “This is crazy. He wouldn't do such a thing.”

But in her heart she knew that Nikolas was in danger. Ignoring Jake's confused questions, she strode to a wooden cabinet where Nikolas kept crystal decanters of liquor and a few valuables. “You were right to show me that note, Jake,” she said, hunting through the cabinet. “Now please go out to the entrance hall.”

“But why—”

“Do as I say, Jake.” She threw a reassuring smile over her shoulder. “It's all right,” she said lightly. Jake obeyed reluctantly, his feet shuffling on the carpeted floor. Emma found what she was looking for, a set of finely wrought pistols in mahogany cases. She pulled out a French pinfire revolver made of gold and silver with ivory grips. Its weight was heavy and reassuring in her palm. She checked to see if it was loaded, and discovered that the chambers were full.

She slipped the revolver into the pocket of her dress, its lump concealed by the heavy folds of her skirts. Walking back into the entrance hall, Emma gestured for her cloak. Although she thought her expression was calm, there must have been some betraying hint of what she was feeling, for the two men looked at her strangely.

“Stanley, have the carriage brought around again,” she said abruptly. “I'm certain they haven't yet unharnessed the horses.”

The butler hesitated, as if tempted to question or delay her, but as his gaze met hers, he nodded. “Yes, Your Highness.”

A carriage was already waiting at the old gatehouse, the horse's breath puffing white in the cold air. The small, centuries-old gatehouse was located miles away from Southgate Hall. It was poised at the edge of a thick forest, on a winding path that used to serve as the original drive leading to the main residence. Now it was in disuse, after a new gatehouse and a more direct road had been established years ago.

Nikolas left his own one-horse carriage and patted the chestnut's steaming neck before walking to the gatehouse. The weather was cold, but nothing like the wicked bite of the Russian winters he had known for most of his life. Still, he wanted this meeting to be finished soon so he could return to home and Emma. Damn his father-in-law for wanting to be humored this way—yet Nikolas supposed he owed it to the man.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Nikolas walked into the dank structure, illuminated by the daylight that shone through the small, square windows. Adjusting to the change from the brilliant white outdoors, Nikolas blinked several times. “All right, Stokehurst,” he muttered. “Tell me what this is about.”

But the voice that replied wasn't Stokehurst's. It was soft, gloating, hostile. “You're not used to surroundings as humble as these, are you? Only the best for Prince Nikolas. A fine home, luxury, a beautiful wife…but now it's all going to be taken away. By the man whom you robbed of everything.”

The speaker stepped forward, and Nikolas recognized the features of Adam Milbank.

Startled, disoriented, Nikolas stared at him without blinking. “What the hell do you want?”

Milbank gestured with his hand, displaying a heavy-barreled pistol. “I want revenge, and I'm going to take it with this. You were jealous of what I had with Emma, and you took her for yourself. You think you're a better man than me, don't you? Well, there is precious little difference between us, Angelovsky. Neither of us is worthy of Emma.” Adam took careful aim with the weapon in his hand, using his thumb to ease back the hammer. “This is Stokehurst's pistol. I'm going to kill you with it and leave you here on his property. You and Stokehurst conspired against me. Now it's time for justice.”

“You fool,” Nikolas said softly, staring at the pistol. It was trembling in the man's grip, betraying his tremendous agitation. “No one will believe that Stokehurst did it.”

“At least it will cast a shadow on the fine name he's so proud of. And the world will be better off without you—selfish Russian bastard!”

“What do you think will happen afterward?” Nikolas asked, switching his gaze to Milbank's sweating face. “You'll only end up in the hangman's noose. And you still won't have Emma. She doesn't want you.”

“She wanted me until you tore our lives apart!” The gun jerked, and Nikolas flinched in reaction. Milbank laughed harshly. “You're right to be afraid, Angelovsky. I mean to do this. I'm going to kill you with no more regret than I would feel swatting a fly. But first, get on your knees.” As Nikolas hesitated, Milbank's rage seemed to double. “Kneel on the floor! For once I want to see you humbled.”

Slowly Nikolas sank down to his knees, staring at the other man while rage and denial rushed through his body.

“I began to plan this the day I heard you had married Emma,” Adam said. “Your life hasn't been worth a shilling since then.”