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Vance turned her around, leading her to the sofa. Tabitha locked her knees, trying to make herself immobile, but Vance easily moved her smaller body. Curse the man. No amount of struggling would free her from his iron grip.
There had to be a way to get out of his grasp. Tabitha did the only thing she could think of and stepped on one of his feet as hard as she could. Her ploy worked, and Vance let out a curse and loosened his hold.
She took two steps before Vance grabbed her arm. This time Tabitha yelled, hoping one of the servants would take pity and open the door. Vance whipped her around and brought them face to face.
“You think you’re so clever? Well, I won’t be surprised again.”
Before she could think twice, Tabitha spat in his face. She froze in horror when she realized what she had done, immediately regretting her action.
Lord Vance was momentarily taken aback. He rubbed his face, then pulled his lips back in a sneer as his nostrils flared. This was the real Vance, the monster who terrorized women, used them, then threw away because they couldn’t serve his purpose.
“You’re more of a challenge than I expected. But I knew you had a fire in you from the first time I saw you. That’s why I wanted you. To see how long it would take to break that spirit of yours.” Spit dribbled from the sides of his mouth.
The man was insane.
“I shall never surrender to you.” A fresh wave of fight rose to the surface, reinvigorating Tabitha.
“We shall see how long you can put up a fight. Eventually, you will tire and there is no one to help you.” He laughed again, sending a chill up Tabitha’s spine.
They circled one another, each waiting for the other to make the first move. Tabitha knew she had to stay out of the man’s clutches. Something told her that if Vance got his hands on her, he wouldn’t let her go, ever. She had to get away since it was clear the servants would not come to her aid.
A weapon, that’s what she needed. Once again, she glanced around the room and saw a letter opener on the desk. Tabitha rushed over and grabbed it, brandishing it like a knife in front of her. Her chest heaved, and her legs threatened to give way, but Tabitha was determined to escape.
“Now, what are you going to do with that, my dear? Do you really think you have the courage to use that?”
Tabitha didn’t speak.
“Come now, enough of these games.”
Vance lunged for her. Tabitha went to move, but the bastard anticipated her direction and grabbed hold of her. Tabitha jabbed at her attacker with the letter opener but missed. Her captor grabbed the wrist of the hand which held the weapon and squeezed until she dropped the letter opener.
“You won’t get away from me again.”
Vance lowered his head, trying to kiss Tabitha, but she turned her head. The putrid smell of his breath made her stomach heave in protest. She knew it was a hopeless fight. Eventually, Vance would get what he wanted, but Tabitha was determined to fight until there wasn’t anything left.
Finally, Vance grabbed her chin, holding her in place, when Tabitha heard a commotion outside the room. The sounds came closer until the library doors burst open. Someone had kicked the door off its hinges.
Tabitha and Vance both froze A figure stepped over the threshold. It was Andrew. What was he doing here? It didn’t matter. Right now, she was looking at her savior.
CHAPTER20
As he did every night, Andrew sat alone at home. Since hiring Thorne to watch Tabitha, Andrew had stayed close by in case something new developed. He’d gotten regular reports from Thorne or one of his men regarding Tabitha’s movements. So far, she had done the usual—teas, shopping, parties, nothing out of the ordinary—until four days ago. Thorne reported Tabitha had taken a cab to Fleet Street and had been seen entering an apothecary. The agent questioned the apothecary later, who admitted, after being paid for his information, that the young lady had purchased a sleeping draught of valerian.
Odd, Andrew thought. She could get that at any shop. Why go out of her way? Unless she didn’t want someone to discover what she was doing. It was all strange, and nothing added up. So the duke had Thorne’s agents continue their watch.
Now Andrew sat in his study, trying to go over figures from the estate, when a footman came in, shortly followed by a young man. The footman was visibly winded from the exertion of running, trying to stay ahead of the young man.
“I’m sorry, Your Grace, but he insisted—”
The young man cut the footman short. “Your Grace, apologies. My name is David Graham. I work for Mr. Thorne.”
At the mention of Thorne, Andrew dropped what he was doing and rose to his feet, his muscles poised to spring into action.
“What news?”
“We followed your young lady tonight, and she went to a home on Regent Street. She’s not been there before. She snuck out of her house in a dark cloak, and we almost missed her. I left another of our men there, in case she left.”
“Do you know whose house it is?”
