Page 17 of Lady Arabella’s Reluctant Hero

"He'd disown you," Pierce said quietly. "You and I both know it. He'd have the housekeeper pack your things by Wednesday. And then he'd explain to his friends over the next several months that you have taken ill, or perhaps that you have gone abroad. There is no Lord Edgmond in your future. No quiet domestic life with a home and family of your own."

He paused, waiting for the pain to ebb before landing one more blow. "And do you think he will spare a thought for you beyond that?"

Her eyes stung but she would not cry.

She had to bite the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood, but she did not cry.

He continued on with a calm certainty. "I suppose you'd have access to your mother's pin money in trust, which will last you…what? Nine months? Maybe a year if you're frugal. And then there is the street."

He picked up his pen, his attention already moving back to the half-written letter on his desk. "You are not done yet, my dear. But if you ever hope to be, you will do as I say."

It wasn't until she heard the scratching of a pen on paper that she finally found her voice. "He—he expects me to marry. I cannot put it off much longer, not without some explanation, and⁠—"

"Then you had best be quick about your next assignment." Pierce turned a page to continue his letter.

The conversation was over. Her lips parted but she had nothing else to say. She'd had a plan, and it had failed.

Part of her wanted to turn and run so that she could give in to the tears that were clogging her throat and stinging her eyes.

But this was it. This was her one chance to escape her nightmare and…she couldn't.

She couldn't just leave. Not without trying every last measure. "I will go to the authorities then."

His head came up so suddenly she realized that he'd already forgotten her. He blinked as if surprised to find her still standing there.

She swallowed hard. "What you're doing—what you're all doing—it's wrong. And it cannot be legal."

Pierce's chair scraped the wood floor as he slowly got to his feet. His eyes grew dark and… She ought to be afraid.

No, she was afraid. But also… She'd gotten a response out of him. And right now any response was better than being dismissed.

So she ignored the fear and let the words spill out of her. "I will tell them everything. All about you. And those men who were there that night⁠—"

"What do you know about those men?" His voice was dangerously calm, but his steps brought him closer with every word.

"I know that you work with them. And I know who they are—" She backed up a step as he drew near enough she could smell the familiar odor of his cologne. "I know— I know about all of it."

Her breathing grew more shallow the closer he came.

"You know all about it, hmm?" His handsome features twisted into a sneer. "And what exactly do you think you know?"

Her mind raced to remember details from that night. Fragments came back to her from the conversation she'd overheard. "I know Mr. Smith. And— And the inn."

She took another step back and her heart plummeted when her back hit the door.

He loomed over her now, and words tumbled out.

"And I know— I know about Linley⁠—"

His hand came to her neck, his fingers wrapping around her throat.

She wasn't sure if it was fear or the pressure at her throat that made her stop. But panic surged as his grip tightened.

He leaned in close. "What do you know about Linley?"

She widened her eyes, and her hands flew up to tug at his. Her heart was fluttering wildly now, and her voice came out as little more than a squeak. "Let me go."

His grip didn't loosen, but it didn't tighten either. He held her so she could not move, then he tilted his head until his breath was hot against her ear. "Be careful, darling. You don't know who you are playing with."