Page 7 of The Redemption of the Shrew

She opened the bedchamber door. “I’ll just be a moment.”

He shoved her into the room and slammed the door behind him. “You’ll be as long as I bloody well like,” he said.

~ ~ ~

A rosy-cheeked maid, perhaps a few years older than Gloriana, opened the door to Phillippe’s knock. They had never met, but he knew by the widening of her eyes that she recognized him. “Good day, Monsooer, er, my lord.”

He smiled at her. English servants often had difficulty settling on a form of address for him. “Sir will do just fine. I spied Miss Warren on her way over here and thought I might take this opportunity to see her antiquities.”

“With pleasure, sir. I showed Lord Hythwick around this morning, all but the Book of Hours, which Miss Warren keeps in her private rooms. That, of course, had to wait for her permission.”

“Perhaps Lord Hythwick and I might view it together.”

“I expect so. Do kindly wait in the drawing room, sir, and I shall see if—”

From above came the slam of a door, followed by a thud.

And a muffled scream.

“What in heaven’s name?” the maid cried.

Dread seized him. “Where is Miss Warren’s bedchamber?” Philippe took the stairs two at a time. He’d stopped short of imagining complete infamy on Hythwick’s part.

She followed. “Second on the left, sir, but surely . . . Miss Gloriana never slams doors. Perhaps the footman dropped something.”

He reached the landing.

Far behind him, the maid muttered, “But the footman is below at the moment . . .”

An indignant cry came from behind the bedroom door. “Get your hands off me, you dastard!”

“Ouch!” grunted Hythwick. “Shut up and stay still, or I’ll knock you senseless.”

“I will kill you for this!” Gloriana shrieked.

Philippe opened the door and stalked in. “No, I’ll kill him,” he said.

~ ~ ~

Thank God, thank God, Gloriana thought in dazed relief.

Philippe de Bellechasse plucked Lord Hythwick by his collar, swung him around, and punched him in the face. She scrambled up, pushing down her skirts. Lord Hythwick had shoved them up and started groping her. How disgusting. She got out of the way, knocking over a chair in her haste.

Hythwick swayed, and Philippe plowed in with another punch, this one to the gut, and then kneed his crotch. The earl squealed in agony and slumped to the carpet.

Elspeth appeared in the doorway, hands clasped to her heaving breast. “Oh, my dear Lord, I never thought to see such a thing.”

“He tried to violate me,” Gloriana cried furiously.

Elspeth took her anger for distress and put her arm around Gloriana. “Are you unhurt, Miss Glow? What a mercy that Monsooer arrived just at this moment.”

“Yes indeed,” Gloriana snarled, “for if Hythwick had succeeded in his foul deed, I would have fetched my pistol and shot him dead.” All Warren women were taught how to handle a gun in case of highwaymen.

“After which you would have been obliged to flee the country and never return,” Elspeth chided.

“For ridding the world of a blackguard?” She wanted to kill him anyway.

Philippe prodded the moaning man with a booted foot. The earl’s nose was bleeding all over the carpet. “Send for Lord Garrison immediately.”