As she reached for a piece of meat, he pulled the tray away and asked, “What do you say to me?”
“Pardon?”
“I want you to express gratitude to me for providing you this meal.”
“Never.”
He shrugged. “Then starve,” he said. “Frankly, it will be much easier to deal with you if you are weak from want of food.”
“You would deny me food?” she asked in disbelief.
The same blasted smirk came to his lips. “You are nothing without me,” he said. “I don’t want you to forget that.”
Ellie spun on her heel and returned to her chair in the corner, refusing to dignify his comment with a response. She didn’t think she could last a night in the same room with Lord Worthington.
A knock came at the door, and Lord Worthington pushed the tray away from him. “The same rule applies to tea, you know. If you behave, I will let you have one cup.”
Another knock came at the door, this time more urgent.
“I’m coming,” Lord Worthington growled as he rose.
He unlatched the door, and it was thrown open as Roswell and Charles stormed into the room, their pistols drawn.
“What is the meaning of this?” Lord Worthington demanded.
Roswell’s eyes scanned the room until they met Ellie’s, and she could see the relief etched on his face. “I am here to collect my betrothed,” he announced.
“She has agreed to marry me,” Lord Worthington said, putting his hand on the butt of his own pistol.
“I will never marry you!” Ellie exclaimed, stepping forward.
Roswell smiled. “Well, there you have it, Worthington,” he said. “It would appear the young lady does not wish to marry you.”
“But she must,” Lord Worthington replied. “If she doesn’t, then she is ruined. Her reputation would never recover.”
“Not if I marry her,” Roswell said. “No one will dare to disparage my wife.”
“What will thetonthink when they learn that your fiancée ran off with me?” Lord Worthington asked. “No sensible man would want Miss Bentley then.”
“You are wrong,” Roswell stated. “I will always want Ellie.”
Lord Worthington drew the pistol from the waistband of his trousers and pointed it at Ellie. “If I can’t have Miss Bentley, then neither will you.”
“Don’t do anything stupid, Worthington,” Roswell warned. “You can still walk out of this room with your life.”
Lord Worthington turned his attention towards Roswell and Charles. “And why should I listen to you?”
Ellie decided the appropriate moment had finally arrived. She pulled the muff pistol out of her reticule, aimed it at Lord Worthington’s foot, and fired.
Lord Worthington howled as he dropped his pistol to the floor and reached for his foot. “You shot me, you stupid chit!” he yelled.
Roswell ran up to Ellie and put his arm around her. “Let’s get you out of here,” he said.
She let him lead her out of the room. Lord Worthington’s two footmen were unconscious on the ground, with three muscular men in red waistcoats standing guard over them.
“Did you do this?” she asked.
Roswell smirked. “I may have had some help from the Bow Street Runners,” he replied.
