Page 26 of Unbound Duchess

Laurence gave a curt nod.

“In turn, she is helping us. Once we’re married and her protection is secured, she is going to tell us all she knows about Benedict. She could be the key to taking him and the entire auction down,” Laurence explained.

Solomon’s brows rose in surprise.

“It would be good to finally be done with this,” he mused, crossing his arms. “Do you think she knows much?”

“I will not know until I speak with her,” Laurence replied.

“She’s currently at my cottage just outside of Blackford. I thought it best that she shouldn’t come back to the city until our marriage is finalized. I figured…” he paused, letting out a sigh. “I figured after everything she’d been through, she could use some peace and quiet before we start questioning her.”

The memory of leaving her there, alone, flashed through his mind. The mixed look of apprehension and relief as she’d closed the cottage door. The overwhelming urge he’d struggled with to stay and watch over her. He’d chosen to leave his driver there instead, paying him well to stay hidden in the small shed beside the cottage and watch over Ellen in secret. Geoff had been loyal to Laurence for years and was married to one of Laurence’s house servants. He knew him well enough to know that he took his vows seriously and that Ellen would be safe with him.

Still, he would have preferred to take the task on himself, and would have if he hadn’t needed to take care of acquiring their marriage license and smoothing things over with Solomon.

“What?” Laurence asked, catching the trailing sound of Solomon’s voice.

He looked up as his chest grew warm, realizing only then that he’d gotten lost in such thoughts.

“I asked when you two were getting married,” Solomon repeated.

“Tomorrow,” Laurence answered. “At the church outside of town near the cottage. You will come. We need a witness.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Hello?” Ellen’s voice shook as she called out. In her trembling hand she held a knife.

It had been three days of silence. Three days of looking over her shoulder or jerking awake at every little sound. During the day, the fresh, quiet air of summer had called to her through the windows, inviting her to walk out to the meadow of wildflowers beyond the small shed in the back of the house. Yet she did not leave the cottage.

At night, the shadows came alive. Every subtle movement, every creak, had her believing that Benedict had found her. Yet she still did not leave the cottage.

Instead, she stayed inside the neat but small wisteria-covered refuge, busying herself with reading the books she’d found inside one of the two bedrooms, or letting her mind weave fantastical tales about how the food and clothing had appeared at the doorstep each day. She’d chosen to believe it was the fairies that lived in the meadow stretching behind the house. That it was the fairies that were real and not Benedict and his cruel words and hands.

“It is I, Laurence,” a deep, familiar voice called from the other side. “I am coming in…if that is alright?”

Ellen exhaled, her entire body sagging so suddenly with relief as the knife she’d been gripping clattered to the ground. She pressed a shaky hand to her chest, willing her heartbeat to slow down, and nodded her head.

“Yes,” she called out, feeling her heart still slamming against her palm.

The door to the cottage opened, and Laurence stepped into the frame, his height and build blocking out the sunshine beyond. His green eyes were sharp as they found her, but something in them softened as they took her in.

“Are you well, my lady?” he asked.

Ellen was taken aback by the gentleness in his voice, but she couldn’t deny that the soothing tone willed her strained nerves to relax. She nodded as she wrapped her hand around the one she’d pressed to her chest, and willed it down.

“The quiet has been nice,” she answered, her voice strained.

Laurence raised a single dark brow.

“Why am I finding that hard to believe?” he asked. His gaze dropped to the floor where the knife had landed, then flicked back up to her as he cocked his head slightly to the side.

Ellen let out a hollow laugh as she leaned down to pick up the knife and deposited it on the nearby table.

“In truth, I have not slept much,” she confessed, twirling her fingers anxiously together.

Laurence’s brows tensed as his jaw tightened.

“He will not hurt you again,” Laurence said quietly as he slid his hands into his trouser pockets. “I have someone I can trust watching over you. Even if Benedict had found you—which I doubt because only my most trusted circle knows that I own this cottage—he would have been stopped.”