Familiar with Lady Atterley’s home after being invited for tea several times, and also to every party, Merry realized the footman was leading her to the small, intimate parlor near the exit to the orangery. She clasped her hands together, thankful for her gloves that soaked up the nervousness dampening her palms.
The footman halted just where she had thought he would and opened the door. “In here, my lady.”
“Thank you.” Merry eased inside, wondering at the dimness of the room. Was it lit only by the fire in the hearth? Surely not. “Lady Evelyn?”
No answer came. Perhaps Duncan’s mother hadn’t heard her.
“Lady Evelyn? Are you here?”
“She is not.” Lord Brixham stepped out of the shadows, his smirk striking a sour chord in Merry’s heart. “But I am here, my lovely lady. Everything you need.”
“Not bloody well likely.” She whirled about, grabbed the door’s latch, and tried to yank it open.
“You will find it locked, my darling. I paid the man well.”
Clenching her teeth to keep from giving him the satisfaction of screaming her rage, Merry slowly turned and faced him. “This is most unseemly, my lord. Even for you.”
He sauntered toward her. “I always get what I want, Merry. Always.”
“Not this time.” Out of the corner of her eye, she noted a tallbronze candelabrum with a base of marble within reach. Perfect. Time to remember all the times she had battled Chance and his wooden sword.
“I doubt very much whether your Scot will want you once you are sullied.”
She fought to remain calm and ensure the candelabrum, her current weapon of choice, remained within reach. “Leave me alone, Brixham. My brother will kill you if Duncan fails to kill you first.”
He shook his head. “No one will kill me, and I already obtained a special license, so we might wed immediately to ensure any offspring that might result from tonight’s debauching is not born a bastard.”
Be patient. Let him get a little closer.The candelabrum would be heavy. She would have to swing it with all her might, and swing it she would. She intended to take his bloody head off with it.
He removed his jacket and tossed it aside. “This can either be pleasant for us both, or simply pleasant for me. The choice is yours, my darling.”
One more step.As he took it, she closed her hand around the stem of the candelabrum and swung hard, aiming for his head and ready to swing again if need be. The thing wasn’t as heavy as she’d expected, enabling her to wield it with even more effectiveness. She caught the side of his head with the base, making him stagger backward.
Ready to swing again, she screamed with every ounce of her rage, praying someone would hear her. Even if she killed the fool or knocked him senseless, she would still be trapped in this room.
One eye closed and holding his head, he went down on one knee. Blood streamed from between his fingers. “You insignificant little bitch.” He struggled to stand.
Still screaming, she swung to hit him again, but this time he caught hold of the candelabrum and ripped it from her hands.
“You had best learn some manners, little one, or you will find our marriage most unpleasant.”
“I will never marry you,” she said, bellowing the words as she looked around the room for another weapon.
Brixham laughed, then stumbled to one side, still holding his head. “I already have well-paid witnesses willing to help me ruin your reputation if you refuse to wed me. They saw you lead me into this room so we might be alone.”
“You are foiled, Brixham. Lady Atterley already knows of my engagement to Duncan.”
He laughed again. “You think you are the first woman to be engaged to one man while carrying on with another? Are you truly that naïve? My, my, I shall enjoy teaching you all about the naughtier side of life.”
She snatched up a vase and threw it at him. Unfortunately, she missed. She hammered on the door until he stumbled his way to her, then she barely dodged him, running to the bookcase for more things to throw. “Help me! Help! Help!” Her throat went raw from screaming, but she refused to stop. She picked up a dainty side table and succeeded in clubbing him hard enough to knock him back to the floor.
Scrambling back to the door, she pounded on it again and rattled the latch. “Help me! Someone help!”
“Merry!”
“Duncan! Help me! The door is locked, and Brixham is a madman!”
“Stand aside.”
