AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Grandmother would have shot the intruder as she had any squirrel brave enough to venture into her garden. She’d be terribly disappointed to know Georgina didn’t go about armed. Or even have a pistol next to her bed. After all, London was full of creatures more vicious than any red squirrel determined to eat the carrots.
Meaty hands tearing at her skirts. Ripping at her underthings. Squeezing her throat.
If Georgina could be grateful, it was for the fact that Harold had hired an assassin who decided it would be preferable to rape Georginabeforefulfilling his duty and killing her. The moment she’d walked into her suite of rooms at Beechwood Court, she’d stopped, halted by the nauseating smell of onions and garlic. Gowns were piled outside her wardrobe. Her jewelry box was open, the contents strewn across the floor. Her new maid, a thin-nosed girl with a churlish attitude, was nowhere in sight.
The brute came out of her dressing room, tall and wiry, dressed in dark clothing. He rushed at Georgina before she could even open her mouth to scream.
Fortunately, like most of his species, even those intent on murder, lust had made her assailant careless. He’d grabbed Georgina, placing one hand across her mouth to silence her while tossing her on the bed. His hand, smelling of filth and onions, had moved down to wrap around her throat, choking the air from her lungs. His other hand had groped at her breast, frustrated by her corset, before he’d started to rip at her skirts.
Georgina, terrified, had gone limp. She’d closed her eyes, pretending to faint, which in turn made him more careless. When he’d paused to breathe over her neck, nearly gagging her with his foul breath, she’d stretched out her fingers, grabbing the heavy ormolu clock on the bedside table. She swung the clock, the marble making a satisfying thud as it made contact with her assailant’s temple.
She’d screamed then and pushed away his body with her feet. His trousers were undone, his now limp appendage pale and disgusting. Gagging, she’d screamed again.
Her footmen had taken their time in coming to her aid. The maid she’d taken on to replace Stella, whom she’d sent back to New York, was curiously absent. Her butler had seemed unable to tell Georgina how the man had gotten into the house and found her chambers. After Georgina instructed the staff to call the constable, she then had the man hauled away to be locked in a room downstairs.
Precarious, was how Georgina would have described her situation at that moment. Almost murdered. Surrounded by untrustworthy staff, all likely in the employ of Harold.
“Georgina.” Her name drawled out in a hideous, over-exaggeration of her accent. “There you are. I wondered where you’d gotten off to.”
If Harold were going to insult her, she wished he’d do so properly. “Harold. What a surprise. By the way, your imitation of my speech could use more work,” she said, focusing on keeping her hands still and her features expressionless. “Flatten and draw out your vowels just a bit more.” His appearance didn’t shock Georgina. She’d known, hadn’t she, Harold would look for her?
He made an ugly sound.
“And I didn’t realize my whereabouts were any of your concern,” she stated without looking in his direction. He couldn’t touch her. Not at Elysium.
Harold fluffed out his expensively tailored coat, bottle-green and perfectly fitted. Folding his lean, angular form, he took the seat beside Georgina, sticking out his pointed chin at her. Everything about Harold was thin and sharp. His elbows could cut her to the quick with one swipe.
“I rode out to Beechwood Court today only to be told you’d gone to London.” One finger toyed with the end of his mustache. “The staff told me you were in a rush to come to town.”
“A rush?” She gave a small laugh, congratulating herself for having the sense to flee her estate for London. “Beechwood Court, though I adore the property, can become tedious at times. I felt a change was in order.” Someplace she was less likely to be attacked, perhaps. “I sometimes miss the delights town has to offer.”
His gaze bored into her. “You should have sent word. Clarissa would have prepared a guest room for you.”
“I’d hate to trouble you.” Georgina swished the bourbon in her mouth, the sting helping to fortify her.
“No trouble at all. We are family, after all. Foolish for you to take on the expense of renting a house for the rare times you visit.” Beady eyes regarded her, full of false solicitousness. A broad smile crossed his lips, showing uneven teeth. Any observer would assume their relationship to be warm. Friendly, even. No one would believe he’d sent someone to murder her this morning.
“Except, you aren’t staying at your rented house either, are you? I was so concerned when I arrived at Beechwood Court and was told you’d left in a flurry of trunks. I grew concerned. Your mind hasn’t been the same since my uncle’s death. Poor lamb.”
Ah.There it was. Of course. Inplain sight. If Harold failed to murder her, he was just as likely to have her committed to gain access to what he thought Masterson had left her. Her wonderful plan to allay Harold’s suspicions by returning to London for a short time hadn’t accounted for murder or being taken to an asylum.
“My mind?” Georgina nodded to Larkin as she placed another chip. “I’m not the one counting the silver at night.”
Never show a mad dog your fear or the mongrel will bite.
More wise words from her grandmother, though at the time, Grandmother had been speaking of Georgina’s father, Jacob Rutherford.
“You should return home with me tonight where your family can care for you. I grow ever more concerned with your erratic behavior.” He said the words loud enough for the entire faro table to hear. “Look at you.” He leaned in. “Dressed like a trollop instead of the proper widow you should be.” His gaze flicked to her bosom. “You aren’t even out of mourning. Another sign, I think.”
“I abhor gray. Burgundy suits me better.” If he thought she would follow him blindly out the doors of Elysium, Harold wasn’t only mad, he was stupid. She said a silent prayer of thanks for whatever small voice had whispered to her earlier not to open the small house she kept in town for the night.
“Pity my uncle was never interested in such things,” he continued, nodding to her breasts. “Only your money. Or rather,mymoney. I think we can both agree on that.”
Dread pooled in her stomach. Georgina had to stomp out the fear threatening to overwhelm her. But the staff all knew her at Elysium. Harold couldn’t drag her out of here. She was under the protection of Lord Welles.
No.Not Welles.
The bourbon soured a bit in her stomach. Or maybe it was the presence of Harold, which was certainly enough to make anyone ill. Possibly it was the guilt leeching through her system mixing with her fear.
