Page 84 of Barbarous

Richard struggled and squirmed and kicked, which made it difficult for the man to pin Daphne to his side—obviously his intention. Daphne would be lost if he got her into the crook of his huge arm, so she kicked and fought as hard as her son, punching him over and over. He responded to her abuse by squeezing her neck so hard she thought her spine would snap. A hoarse scream came from the direction of the carriage and they all froze.

Again, it was Lucien’s tormentor who’d issued the anguished cry. By the manner in which he was clutching his groin, Daphne thought Lucien must have hit him between the legs with the boomerang, which he held while running toward Daphne and Richard.

It was only because the large man holding them had two arms rather than three that Lucien was able to beat him on the back with the wooden implement. He aimed again for the man’s private parts and must have struck home because the huge brute dropped Richard’s arm in order to reach behind him to stop his small tormentor.

“Run, Richard!” Daphne screamed, her loud screech startling everyone around her. “Run!” He ran, but Daphne felt as though he were moving in water. She twisted in her captor’s grip and caught a glimpse of Lucien. He was behind them, kicking at the man, who’d somehow gained possession of his boomerang.

“Go, Lucien! Get Rowena!” Her voice dropped to a gasp as the man got his arm around her throat and drew her tight.

Just then Rowena came running around the trees, her mouth and eyes wide at the scene before her. Daphne could no longer scream to order her maid to flee, but the boys kept running, for once obeying their mother.

The man who was still huddled beside the waiting carriage screamed at his partner in an unnaturally high voice. “We needs to get out o’ ere, Sidney! Get the mort, e said she’s wurf the most dosh.”

Her captor dragged Daphne, his arm around her neck.

“No!” The sound came from behind them and was accompanied by an enraged scream.

A second later the man holding Daphne staggered and grunted before turning around, his elbow tightening around her neck until her eyes bulged.

“Ow! Give over, luvvy!” He sounded more perplexed than angry.

“Let! Her! Go!” Rowena screamed, punctuating each word with something that sounded like a kick.

“Leave off, ye owd bird!”

He evidently decided Rowena was more of an annoyance than a danger and began moving toward the carriage again. Daphne heard sounds of scuffling but was too busy trying to breathe as the man’s grip tightened every time Rowena commenced assaulting him. There was nothing for a long moment and then an enraged scream as Rowena’s kicking struck home.

Unfortunately, his yell was followed by a sickening crunch and the dull thud of something hitting the ground. Daphne could see nothing but sky as she fought for breath, her vision beginning to darken. She’d begun to drift into unconsciousness when something heavy—a wool cloak?—dropped over her head. Arms picked her up and tossed her. She landed on something padded and a door slammed shut. The carriage lurched into motion and she teetered on the edge of the seat before rolling off and landing on her head.

The last sounds she heard as darkness engulfed her were, “Mama! Mama!”

Chapter Twenty

Hugh tossed Pasha’s reins to his groom. “I shan’t need him again today, Wilkins.”

Perhaps he would be in luck and Daphne would have no other engagements and they could dine at home this evening. He grinned. If that were the case, they might skip dinner altogether and just go right to dessert. He mounted the steps two at a time, tossing his hat and gloves to the footman as he entered the hall.

“Is Lady Davenport in?” he asked, not breaking his stride.

“No, my lord. She took the young masters to the park and has not yet returned.”

“Tell her I am in the library and would see her when she returns.”

Once in the privacy of the library, Hugh took out the marriage license and laid it on the desk, thinking about his morning’s work.

While he hadn’t been looking forward to confronting Lady Letitia after last night, he had to admit the conversation had gone better than he’d expected.

She’d received him in her chambers, far earlier than was usual for her to take callers.

Her hair, bereft of its usual turban, was a soft, white cloud beneath its cap. But her eyes were still as sharp as daggers.

“You have come to explain your wretched decampment last night?”

Hugh took her hand and bowed low over it before seating himself in the spindly gilt chair her maid had placed at the side of the bed.

“Thank you for seeing me at such an uncivilized hour, Aunt. I have indeed come to apologize for last night.”

Her mouth twisted. “You lie very prettily. I expect you have really come to tell me you will be marrying Thomas’s widow.”