Page 51 of The Marquess of Secrets

Lydia struggled to pull her arm from his tight grip, but he held her firmly. She met his gaze. He wore a false beard.

Why had she not seen the cruel gleam in his eyes before now? Misplaced and misguided love can hide a multitude of warnings.

“It took me wearing a disguise, but I followed the careless bloke to an investigative agency. The tall bastard with the limp and cane—the owner—recently met a couple of men at a pub. One of them, I later discovered, is a marquess. Was it he who hired the agency? I decided to keep watch. Then you emerge from his townhouse. You’ve landed on your feet, puss. An heir to a duke?”

His mouth twisted into a lascivious grin. “Have you spread those luscious thighs for him as yet? Used your talented mouth on him? Have you shown him all your wicked ways?”

Lydia’s blood boiled. “I’ll not be made to feel ashamed of the fact that I enjoy sex. I just wish my introduction to it was with any man but you,” she snapped, keeping her voice low.

He growled in response, his lips curling. “You lie. You still want me. You’re mine. No one else will ever have you. I’ll make sure of it, one way or another.”

How tempting to throw at him that she was aware of Miss Slickson, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction nor give away how much they knew of Huntsford and his activities.

“I will never be yours. Not ever again. You are a vile, selfish excuse of a man. Let me go. At. Once.” Lydia kept her voice firm, her tone sharp.

It was gratifying to tell him what she thought of him. Any lingering vestiges of feelings for Huntsford dissipated. She felt nothing for him. In truth, she fell out of love with him some months ago.

Not afraid any longer.

“If you don’t come with me now, I’ll tell the coppers it was you who stole the drugs. I’ll inform the head nurse of your debauched ways. How you seduced me to do your will. Made me take opium. That your story of an illness is false at its core. Unless you’re speaking of the sickness of the soul.”

“You’re speaking of yourself.” Lydia stopped struggling. “How did you know of an illness?”

“I heard a letter was personally delivered to the head nurse. Curious, I broke into the locked drawer in her desk and read it. It was from you. Quite the tale. It won’t hold once I tell all of your true nature.”

Lydia yanked his arm toward her and bit into his hand until he yelped and released her arm.

“Huntsford is here!” she screamed at the top of her lungs,

John’s eyes widened, then narrowed as he jumped to his feet.

“Miserable bitch,” he seethed.

He knocked her flat and vaulted past her, heading for the short tunnel and the exit. He wasn’t that far away from it and could easily escape.

Lydia scrambled to her feet. Already he was becoming lost in the crowd.

“Stop him! Huntsford is here!”

Alas, since most of the people in the terminus were probably hiding for one reason or another, whether it was from authorities or life itself, no one intervened. In fact, they turned away. Lydia scanned the mass of humanity, trying to locate Harrison. All in white, he was easy to spot. But he worked at the opposite end of the cavernous underground area.

Waving her arm to gain his attention, she pointed toward the tunnel. “He’s in there!”

Harrison sprinted in that direction, and she lifted her skirt and did the same. Lydia reached it first, stopping when she found a trail of the tattered trousers, coat, and beard on the ground. Huntsford was shedding his disguise as he ran. Underneath, he’d worn his regular clothes. Sly indeed.

A terrible thought entered her mind. Huntsford knew of her connection to Harrison.

A cold fear gripped her tight.

* * *

John Huntsford reached the boarded entranceway and stopped short. He would have to exit as nonchalantly as possible in case someone from that damned detective agency was watching the place. Exhaling, he stepped outside onto Stepney High Street.

A smile curved about the corner of his mouth when he saw how crowded the streets were. A shift change at the nearby boot and shoe factory would be adequate cover.

Pulling his peaked cap out of the pocket of his jacket, he then placed it on his head and pulled it low over his eyes.

He did not dare look behind him to see if anyone was in pursuit.