Page 46 of The Matrimonial Advertisement

“Not tonight he won’t. And not tomorrow. The road will be impassible.”

“He’ll come back,” she said again.

“He’ll have to get through me first.” Justin swung his other leg over the edge of the cliff. “I’m going to climb down now.”

Helena made no reply.

Justin kept one eye on her as he proceeded to feel his way along the rocky outcroppings of the cliff face. He hadn’t climbed in ages. And he wasn’t certain he’d ever done it in the rain. It wasn’t much of a distance, but it was slippery as all hell.

“Justin?” Neville’s voice boomed out from somewhere above.

Justin started and nearly lost his balance. He swore violently. “Blast it, Neville! Didn’t I tell you to stay put?”

“Did you find Paul?”

“Yes.” Justin lowered his booted foot to the ledge. “He and Jonesy are here.” Both dogs looked up at him, their tails thumping in greeting. Justin touched Paul’s head with a reassuring hand before edging carefully toward Helena.

Her face was pressed to her knees again. She wasn’t moving.

“You’re not going to make this easy for me, are you?” Justin crouched beside her. Wet hair was covering her like a shroud. He lifted a hand to brush it from her face. Her skin was cold as ice. “That’s all right,” he said under his breath. “I can manage. If you’ll allow me…” He slid one arm around her waist and the other under her knees, gathering her to his chest. Her body was stiff and unyielding, but she made no move to struggle. Heaven help him if she had. The ledge was not big enough. There was every chance they’d both plummet straight over the side.

“I’m going to hand you up to Neville,” he said. “Neville? Lean down here, would you?”

Neville’s face appeared over the side of the cliff. “Is that Miss Reynolds?”

“She’s Mrs. Thornhill now,” Justin said as Neville reached out his arms. “Be careful with her.”

For the longest while, Helena wasn’t aware of anything save the sound of her own teeth chattering. Her hair and clothes were wet and she was shaking all over. She didn’t know how she’d managed to end up on the ledge. She’d been running away. The grass and mud had been slippery under her feet. She’d tried to keep her bearings. But it was growing dark so quickly. The rain was hitting her face. She couldn’t see properly. And she was too terrified to stop.

The cliff’s edge had rushed up in front of her. It seemed to come out of nowhere. She’d gasped and—

Fallen.

The next thing she knew, the dogs were there. Paul and Jonesy. Enormous black figures across from her on the ledge. She could smell their wet fur, could hear them whining at her.

The wind was cold on her face, the cliff face hard against her back. She thought she must have scraped or twisted her leg. There was a stinging sensation and what felt like a trickle of blood.

Time passed. A profound sense of futility weighed down on her, crushing her hopes beneath it like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

There was no escape. There never had been. It was always going to come to this. Whether she’d stayed in London or whether she’d run to Cornwall, or Paris, or Timbuktu.

She clutched her knees tight to her chest. She had no mettle, that was the problem. She was weak and useless and utterly lacking in courage. It was no wonder she was in this predicament. When it came to the point, she hadn’t even enough strength of will to throw herself over the side.

Not but what she didn’t threaten to do just that.

But then Justin was there, his deep voice sounding from somewhere above the ledge. “My dear girl, do you think I’d let anyone lay so much as a finger on you?”

She nearly wept then. Not because she was safe, but because he meant it. He truly meant it. He believed he could prevent them from hurting her.

His head bent low over hers as he carried her through the rain, walking in long ground covering strides.

He bounded up a short flight of steps. A door creaked open. “Great heavens!” Mr. Boothroyd exclaimed. “What’s happened?”

“An accident.”

“I’ll fetch Mrs. Standish.”

“No,” Justin said. “No. I don’t want anyone to see her like this.”