The predawn air was heavy and metallic, warning of a storm, and even though her room was still warm from the afternoon's heat, she shivered. She hated thunderstorms, especially those that broke at night. Maybe if she'd had a parent to run to for comfort when she'd been a child, her fear would have passed. Instead, she'd huddled in her cabin near the slave quarters, alone and terrified, certain that the earth was going to split open at any minute and gobble her up.

Cain had finally gotten home half an hour ago. Mrs. Simmons, the maids, and Magnus were gone for the night, so he was in the house alone, and as soon as he'd had time to fall asleep, the way would be clear.

The distant rumble of thunder jangled her. She tried to convince herself that the weather would make her work easier. It would hide any noise she might make when she slipped into the house through the pantry window she'd unlocked earlier. But the thought didn't comfort her. Instead, she imagined herself as she'd be in an hour or so, running through the dark streets with a thunderstorm crashing around her. And the earth splitting open to gobble her up.

She jumped as lightning flashed. To distract herself, she tried to concentrate on her plan. She'd cleaned and oiled her daddy's revolver and reread Mr. Emerson's essay "Self-Reliance" to bolster her courage. Then she'd bundled her possessions and hidden them in the back of the carriage house so she could grab them quickly.

After she killed Cain, she'd make her way to the docks off Cortlandt Street, where she'd catch the first ferry for Jersey City. There she'd find the train station and begin her journey back to Charleston, knowing the long nightmare that had begun when that Charleston lawyer had come to her was finally over. With Cain dead, Rosemary's will would become meaningless and Risen Glory would be hers. All she had to do was find his bedroom, aim her gun, and pull the trigger.