Page 82 of His Enemy Duchess

Sophia looked down at Violetta, who most likely had no idea what was transpiring and had leaned down to chew on some grass. She couldn’t do this to the beautiful mare.

No… I can’t risk hurting her.

She set down the reins and dismounted, feeling the gaze of the barrel burning a hole in her back.

“Why—Why are you doing this, Uncle? I thought?—”

“Thought what? That I would let all of this slide without the Pratts paying for what they did to us? That I would forgive them? Absolutely not!” Frederick dismounted and made her turn around. “Hands behind your back, girl.”

When she resisted, Sophia yelped as her hands were forcefully pulled and tied behind her back.

“Uncle, no?—”

Before she could utter another word, a lump of fabric was being pushed into her mouth, gagging her. What felt even more disturbing was how fast and efficient Frederick’s movements were. They betrayed a familiarity with the act.

She managed to turn and look at him one more time with pleading, tearful eyes and muffled cries, but before long, a sack was being placed over her head, blinding her.

She screamed against the fabric, but it was pointless.

“Take my advice, girl. Stop resisting. You will only get tired.”

She felt her body being lifted and hauled atop another horse, the force of the impact making her feel sick. She could now only move her feet, and she tried, but they were immediately tied as well.

Quiet followed, then the thud of Frederick walking around the horse. She felt the weight shift as he mounted. They started moving, the jostling trot akin to being pummeled a thousand times in the stomach, but if she kicked and made a fuss, she would likely fall head first.

And then what? I’m still bound and gagged… It’s not like I can run blindly…

The rush of fear-driven strength was ebbing. She wasn’t able to resist; she recognized that now. She wouldn’t have a fighting chance. For now, she’d have to go along with his plan, whatever it was.

Thomas watched the sun disappear under the horizon, his knee jigging restlessly under his desk.

She should have been home by now. What did she even go there for?

He held his face in his hands, but it failed to calm him down. He raised his hands and ruffled his hair. If he had looked at himself in the mirror, he would know how uncharacteristically disheveled he looked.

“Miss Wright!” he shouted.

He heard steps down the hallway, and within seconds, Penny was in his study, holding a broom, her face full of worry.

“Something w?—”

“You said she was going to her family’s house, correct?” Thomas asked right away.

“Y-Yes, Your Grace.”

“Then where onearthis she?” He gestured sharply to the window. “It’s already twilight, and she hasn’t returned. Did she mention that she might stay awhile?”

“No, but perhaps she had to?”

“Are any of her clothes missing?”

“N-No.”

“Did she pack anything?”

“I don’t think so.”

“You are her lady’s maid! You should know those things!” His shout made the poor woman flinch, and he immediately regretted it, gesturing an apology. “I am sorry Miss Wright. I am simply agitated and very worried. Are you sure none of her valises are missing?”

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