Page 69 of Barbarous

Her cousin’s face was dark purple and his eyes had rolled back into his head. Daphne lurched to her feet, staggering toward Hugh.

“Stop!” she rasped, clawing weakly at hands as hard as grappling hooks. “Stop or you will kill him. Hugh.” She pulled on his arms. “Hugh. Hugh!” She struck his forearms repeatedly, but it was like trying to move a coach with no wheels.

She fisted one hand and punched him in the shoulder with all her might. “Hugh!”

Pain exploded in her hand and arm.

Hugh turned to her. “You would let this swine live?” The words were like hot sparks from a blacksmith’s forge and his pupil was a black pinprick. His hand flexed even tighter around Malcolm’s throat.

“I care nothing for him but I would not see you hanged!” She pulled with all her strength, but his arm wouldn’t budge.

His gaze was still linked with hers when he relinquished his hold. Daphne had not anticipated the movement and would have fallen had Hugh not steadied her while Malcolm’s limp body slithered to the floor.

She pulled away from Hugh and dropped to her knees beside Malcolm. His pulse beat strongly, if erratically. Thank God. She slumped against the bookshelf and closed her eyes. Arms slipped around her shoulders and Hugh lifted her, cradling her against his chest. He carried her to the settee and laid her down before crouching beside her, taking her hand.

“How do you feel?”

“Short of breath.”

His expression was bleak. “You were almost permanently short of breath.”

She glanced at the library door. “Malcolm locked it, how were you able to enter?”

He pointed toward a door that looked like it concealed a large cupboard. “It is a secret entrance, built into the house for some long ago nefarious purpose. I used to play here with Simon and John when we were young.”

“How did you know we were in here?”

“I saw you—when you turned to avoid me. I followed your progress by watching the crowd.” He smiled. “You left quite a trail of destruction in your wake.” He ran his finger down her cheek, ending under her chin, which he tilted so that he might see her better. “I seem to be in the habit of interrupting you in the process of chastising Hastings.”

“I was not so lucky this time. Without your help I would not be breathing right now.”

He glanced at Malcolm’s still crumpled form and his face darkened. He stood. “What do you want me to do with him? You could have him before a magistrate. I would gladly stand witness. Or I could take care of him in a less conspicuous fashion.”

Daphne shuddered at what his second suggestion must mean. “I do not want the attention a magistrate would draw. Have him taken to wherever he is lodging. I don’t think I will have any further problems with him.”

“Daphne, I do not—”

“Please, Hugh.”

Hugh subjected her to a long, hard look. “This is a mistake.”

“It is what I want.”

He finally nodded. “Very well, I will do as you say. Come, let’s get you tidied up so that we may leave with as little fuss as possible.” He took her hand and led her to a large mirror, watching as she set her hair and dress to rights.

“I’m afraid you will have no small amount of bruising.” He grimaced at the already vivid marks around her sapphire necklace. “I will fetch your wrap, it should hide most of the marks.” He glanced at Malcolm. “Will you be all right if I leave you for a few moments? I must summon my groom and tell my aunt I am taking you home.”

“Oh no, Hugh, you cannot leave your own ball so early.”

Hugh did not answer. Instead, he led her to a chair, this one facing Malcolm but far across the room. “I will be back directly. If he makes any move at all you may hit him with this.” He grabbed a marble statue from the table and handed it to her. He grinned suddenly, the expression causing her heart to beat madly. “Or just hit him if the urge strikes you.”

* * *

Hugh returned a short time later with his groom, Wilkins, a glum, older man who never smiled. The two looked at Malcolm’s prone form and exchanged a few quiet words before Wilkins departed.

Hugh arranged Daphne’s wrap about her neck and shoulders and stood back.

“It interferes with your masterpiece of a gown, but your neck is already several colors so it is best to sacrifice fashion at this point. I told Aunt Letitia you were suffering from a headache.” He jerked his chin toward Malcolm’s inert form. “Wilkins will take him to wherever he is lodging. Now come, before somebody bumbles in here.”