As if on command, the sky above them opened up and rained down on them. The little space filled quickly with water, and when Remi breathed it in, she remembered: Elise was dead, Ben was not there, and she was in danger.

Her eyes flew open, the vision replaced by reality.

The grave was gone, as was Ben. The room was unrecognizable at first, becoming clearer as her eyes focused. Dim yellow lights hung overhead, and the damp air and dirt floor hinted at some sort of cellar or storage house. She felt like one of the bodies that Ben had stored, only unopened and still alive. She moved a fraction, and it set her body ablaze with pain. She winced.

Whatever drug he’d used on her had not worn off completely yet.

“I’m surprised you’re awake.”

Arnaud appeared around a corner, dragging something heavy with him. With a groan, he heaved the weight of his baggage, slamming it into the spot opposite Remi with a hard thud. Her throat tightened, and she pressed her dry lips together in an effort to contain her fear.

“I would have let her go,” Arnaud said, nodding his head toward Sylvie’s crumpled and broken body, “but she left me with little choice.”

“What?” The question came out strangled, but he must have anticipated her reaction.

“Your maid is—well, was—a hysterical thing.” There was an edge of humor to his voice. “Did she tell you everything? She said she kept it a secret, but I couldn’t be sure, could I?”

“What are you talking about?” But then Remi stiffened. Sylvie had confided in her before running away. She admitted to her part in delivering the letters on Hugo’s behalf.

“Ah, there it is,” Arnaud pressed his lips together. “You do know something.”

Remi was silent.

“Did she tell you about Edgar? How she helped me with the body?” His eyes lingered on Sylvie before he approached her mangled body and knelt before it. He extended a hand to her hair and brushed it gently as if she were a sleeping child instead of a corpse. “Stitched up the old fool after I was done, then cleaned up his blood. She was incredibly thorough.”

Remi stifled a sob. It wasn’t any wonder that she ran away. She had too many secrets for someone to bear.

“Then there was the matter of Hugo’s letters,” he chuckled. “I told him it was a fool’s errand, that he stood no chance at wooing you. Still, he pursued you anyway. Poor Sylvie. Caught up in all of the muck.”

Her uncle’s eyes turned to her, and in the dim light of the cellar, every line on his wicked face made him more monster than man. It was an expression she recognized—the same look her father had worn the night he confronted her mother. Madness consumed him.

A man she’d known to be benevolent and loving, suddenly a heartless killer.

“For a time, she was useful,” he taunted, grabbing a fistful of Sylvie’s hair as he pulled her into an upright position. “But I don’t like to leave behind loose ends.”

Sylvie’s slacked jaw hung awkwardly to one side, dry blood crusted around her lips. Remi’s uncle stood and dragged the corpse closer, forcing the dead girl’s face into Remi’s. She felt helpless as he mocked her. “You should have heard her scream.”

Remi closed her eyes, warm tears streaming down her cheeks. She didn’t want to think about how her friend had suffered. Sylvie was too sweet to deserve such treatment. It was unthinkable that her uncle was capable of killing another person, yet he’d admitted to two deaths already.

“Unfortunate, I know, but necessary all the same,” he said, bored, as Sylvie’s body thumped to the ground again. “Your precious Ben will pay the price for me, though. And you’ll be here, just the same as Sylvie.”

“You wouldn’t.” Terror gripped her. Does he mean to kill me?

Arnaud’s hand wrapped around Remi’s arm and pulled her up with a sharp tug. She cried out, her eyes forced open from the pain.

“I would, Remi. I absolutely would.”

Remi bit her lip.

“My brother should have done you the same way he did that director,” Arnaud snarled. “Instead, he sent you to me. And what a miserable undertaking it was.”

“He paid you,” she spat in his face. It had not been kindness that guided her uncle but the promise of money. “How miserable could you be?”

“Very, Remi! He planned to stop paying me, so I had to convince him to let you marry. But I see my error now.” He grasped her chin and tilted it back. “I let you live without rules. My brother always said that you would ruin us. I was a fool not to listen.”

“I was married!” Remi’s eyes watered. “You were rid of me! Why would you ruin that?”

“Why?” A manic expression overtook her uncle. His grip on her chin tightened. “Why, you ask? Because that lousy old fool tricked me!”

She was quiet for a moment, shocked. Finally, she asked, “You figured it out?”

He shoved her back, hard. “Of course I did. He made all of these asinine excuses the moment the money was withdrawn. It was the last of your dowry and my brother’s allowance combined—you can imagine how angry I was to realize it was all for show.”

“So you killed him?”

He scoffed. “He crossed me, Remi.”

Tears ran fresh down her cheeks. To think that Edgar would risk so much for so little. What was the return on his ruse? What could he have gained for tricking her uncle out of money? He must have had good intentions. He must not have known how it would all fall around him, no matter how clever he thought himself.

“Everything has been on the verge of collapse for years, Remi,” her uncle sneered. “Elise was an expensive child, as you know, and despite my efforts to repair our situation, I have been unsuccessful. The Leone girl was a start, but she failed. No money, just lies.”

Remi nearly choked—whatever warmth she had left sapped from her skin.

“You don’t mean Ben’s sister?” Her lips quivered.

“She was at my every beck-and-call. That girl, if I had asked her to, would have thrown herself from the moors regardless of if I’d pushed her.” Arnaud’s eyes danced as though he took joy in the memory of the girl’s death.

“You monster,” Remi spat.

Arnaud simply shrugged, unbothered by the insult or her vitriol.

Poor Soleil, she thought. Her heart ached for Ben and for her own loss. Arnaud had treated her well, loved her even, and yet the man before her was not the one who had raised her.

“My reputation would have been ruined,” he said.

“Better ruined than someone else dead,” Remi said, her voice filled with disgust equal to what she felt in her heart.

“Nothing has gone right,” he seethed between gritted teeth. “But I intend to fix that. With both you and the other Leone gone, I’ll inherit what’s left of your property.” Arnaud grabbed at her hair and held it tightly. “And I’ll tear that wretched manor down myself when I do. I’ll turn over every worthless cent of that land to some money-hungry bastard, too, if it means my luck is restored.”

His fist tightened, and she yelped. He raised his hand against her but failed to strike a blow.

Remi fell to the ground as Arnaud was shoved backward by an unseen force. Free of his grasp, Remi tumbled forward, the side of her face connecting with the packed dirt floor. Bile rose from the back of her throat and spilled from her mouth onto the floor. She coughed, rolling onto her back as another figure joined the fray.

“Lay another hand on her and I’ll kill you.”

Hugo! Remi’s eyes landed on the crazed redhead. Sweat spilled down his brow as he shook with unbridled rage.

“She’s mine,” Hugo snarled, pulling a silver revolver from his breeches. “You said she was mine.”