Page 90 of The Redemption of the Shrew

~ ~ ~

It took two, maybe three seconds for Gloriana to realize she’d been duped. She righted herself and would have retreated to the opposite corner of the coach, but Hythwick grabbed her and plunked her next to him. Her reticule thumped dully against the side of the coach. The pistol! Thank God she’d brought it along.

He didn’t seem to hear it. Maybe he was laughing too loud to notice anything but his own glee.

Her voice, once she managed to control it enough to speak, emerged shaking with fury. “She doesn’t even have a son, does she?” Through the window, she saw the woman’s fleeing figure.

He stopped laughing long enough to say, “She’s just a trollop of a maid. Didn’t I tell you charity was for fools? Now you see why.” He chortled wickedly. “Two can play at de Bellechasse’s game.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Don’t pretend innocence, my dear. I know it was de Bellechasse who arranged for actors to pose as my sister and Barnham, so I would waste my time chasing after the wrong couple.”

“And how do you know that?”

“Because they told me so. I can be very persuasive.”

She shuddered. “I hope you didn’t hurt them.”

“You’re far too soft-hearted, Gloriana.”

She resisted the temptation to say she hadn’t given him permission to address her by her Christian name. He would only laugh all the harder.

“That was a very affecting letter you sent me, by the by. Don’t try to tell me that wasn’t de Bellechasse’s doing too.”

“So sorry to disappoint you, but it wasn’t,” she retorted. “If Mrs. Apsley hadn’t been so distraught, I would have had no reason to write it.”

The temptation to pull the gun out and shoot him, to put an end to his gloating, clawed at her. At any moment, he might discover the pistol, depriving her of her one hope of escape. No one knew where she had gone, so she had to save herself.

She needn’t actually shoot him. Threatening to do so would be enough, given the right time and place.

For she must be careful about that. She was a lone female without funds, whilst he was an earl with an obedient coachman and groom, and the funds to bribe any number of other people.

“But you knew what was going on,” he said. “De Bellechasse sent you to the nursery to make sure his plan didn’t fail.”

She shrugged. “Yes, he didn’t give me a choice.”

The earl snorted his disbelief. “Come now, why should you do him any favors?”

She couldn’t think of an answer for this, but fortunately Hythwick didn’t expect one. He just went on talking. “He will stop at nothing to do me harm.”

And whose fault is that? With difficulty, she kept her mouth shut and tried to plan her escape.

And escape, she must—before Hythwick violated her. She would survive it, but how would it affect Philippe? Would he still marry her?

Even if he did, the assault would haunt their future. Murder on her part would be a better solution, so she must steel herself to shoot Hythwick if necessary. She would be damned—perhaps literally—before she let this dastard destroy Philippe.

“He thinks he has won, but I never forget an insult,” Hythwick said. “If we don’t catch up with Barnham and Marianne in time, I’ll get my revenge on them sooner or later.”

Gloriana gasped. “We’re pursuing them?”

“Aye, this will be the devil’s own ride, but I’ll enjoy it far more in such charming company.”

“I’m not feeling particularly charming.” She hoped she sounded petulant rather than terrified. At least she now knew where they were headed.

“As for de Bellechasse, you are the best possible weapon—and you climbed right into my coach, like the fool you are.” He leaned in, and his hot breath bathed her. Surprisingly, it smelled only of brandy. He must have fortified himself before abducting her. He pressed a smacking kiss on her lips.

She kept her mouth clamped shut and endured until he drew away. He sniffed. “You’ll have to do better than that.”