The Gallows Bride by Rebecca King Read Free Book Online

had
happened and was about to take another swig of his brandy when the
bottle was abruptly snatched out of his loose hold.
    Peter
jerked out of his alcoholic stupor and sat bolt upright, grumbling
a protest at her abrupt removal of his emotional
anaesthetic.
    “ What do you think you are doing?” she demanded, standing over
him and holding the bottle aloft.
    He
wondered briefly if she was going to hit him with it and
immediately tried to stand, only to find his legs wouldn’t hold him
up. Eliza’s small hand in the middle of his chest propelled him
further backward until he was leaning uncomfortably against the
hard arm of the chaise, watching in disgust while she opened the
window and hefted the bottle outside.
    Ignoring
the fact that a woman was present, Peter cursed fluidly and watched
her stalk toward him, anger practically reverberating from her. He
should stand up and argue with her. He should protest that he was
grieving just as much as she was. But all he could do was sit and
watch her approach him. He couldn’t blame her for hating him; he
deserved her anger. Not only had he failed to protect her sister as
he had promised he would, but the results of his failure had
brought about untold grief from which neither of them would
recover.
    His mind
clouded with a mix of brandy and grief, he stoically sat perfectly
still and silent, and waited for her to lambast him.
    “ If there is one thing Jemima hated,” she muttered, grabbing a
fistful of his shirt and pulling it tight, drawing him forward
until they were nose to nose, “it was a drunkard. If I see you with
another bottle in your hand, I’ll beat you over your stupid head
with it.” Her voice trembled with the strength of her anger as she
glared into his eyes.
    “ What are you trying to do? Do you really think you will
succeed in drinking yourself into an early grave too?”
    “ I love her,” Peter’s voice was hoarse with grief and bitter
regret. Staring into eyes so similar to Jemima’s brought about a
pang of longing so sharp that he almost cried aloud with the pain
of it.
    “ I know,” Eliza replied gently. “I do too, but drinking
yourself to death isn’t going to bring her back. She has gone,
Peter. If you really care about her, you need to sober up and help
us sort out her funeral. When she is buried, you have an estate
that needs your attention and people living and working there that
depend on you for their livelihood. You cannot fail
them.”
    “ Like I failed Jemima?” Peter’s voice was harsh as the
horrifying memory of his last look at Jemima alive swam in his mind
before he could quash it.
    “ You – didn’t – fail – Jemima.” She bit out each word through
clenched teeth. “Nobody did. If you really want to be harsh about
it, Jemima could have done more to protect herself. Instead, we sat
there in Derby like ducks waiting to be picked off by a merciless
hunter. It was only a matter of time before Scraggan found us.
Luckily for me, Edward found me and saved me before Scraggan got
me. Jemima wasn’t so lucky. There was nothing you could have done.
Drinking yourself unconscious is going to get you nowhere,” she
chided, releasing her hold on his shirt and pushing him abruptly
away from her.
    “ She should have come to me,” Peter gasped through the heavy
weight in his chest. “I would have helped her.”
    “ I know, but don’t you see? She was trying to protect you. By
staying in Derby, she was as close to you as she dared be without
actually seeking your help and putting you at risk too.”
    Peter
studied her as she stood before the fireplace. She looked so
familiar, so like Jemima, he ached to hold her. It was all he could
do to remain in his seat.
    “ I would like to remove her to Padstow. She should be buried
beside Father.”
    “ I’m sorry, Eliza, it isn’t possible,” Dominic replied from
his position by the doorway, regret lacing his voice. “It’s too
dangerous with Scraggan’s men in the area. If we