Page 57 of An Arranged Marriage with a Cruel Earl
“It’s nothing, Lydia,” Ambrose said reassuringly.
“There’s someone there,” Lydia replied. “I heard a floorboard creak.”
Emmeline heard footsteps and she whirled in terror. She tried to run to the stairs, but as she did, her long dress snagged on one of the nails where the craftsmen had restored the skirting. She let out a cry of fear and snatched at the white muslin skirt, tearing it in her haste.
“Lady Rilendale!” Lydia called out as she stepped into the hall. “Why such a hurry?” her eyes narrowed. “Were you spying?”
“I...What? No!” Emmeline protested. She was close to tears, her heart pounding in terror. Lydia raised a brow. Lord Epworth had also appeared in the doorway.
“She heard us,” Lydia insisted. “Why else is she so frightened?”
Lord Epworth stepped forward, grabbing Emmeline’s wrist.
“No!” Emmeline cried out. “Let me go!”
Lord Epworth’s hand clamped down over her mouth, shutting out her screams.
“We have to do something,” Lydia insisted. “She will tell everyone.”
Lord Epworth held Emmeline’s arm in an iron grip. She twisted her wrist, trying to break the hold the way she and Amelia had done when they played catch when they were children, but his grip was far too strong. She sobbed as he tugged her into the drawing room.
Lydia shut the door behind them.
“Don’t scream,” Ambrose warned, taking his hand from her lips. “You wouldn’t want anything to happen to our dowager countess, would you?”
“What?” Emmeline whispered in horror.
“Ambrose,” Lydia warned.
Ambrose just looked at her. “You’re coming with me, Lady Rilendale,” he said with some irony in his voice when he used her title. “And if you make a shriek or so much as a whisper, you’ll wish you hadn’t.”
Emmeline whimpered as he grabbed her wrist and Ambrose dragged her towards the door that led from the drawing room and into the servants’ corridor.
“Walk on,” Ambrose commanded as he opened the door. “And anything funny and you’ll wish you hadn’t. You want the dowager countess to be alive and well, I reckon.”
Emmeline said nothing as he walked into the corridor behind her and shut the door. His hand descended on her shoulder, and she tried not to cry, but she was sobbing in fear. These two people had been plotting to murder Andrew! They would think nothing of murdering her too, and quite possibly the dowager countess as well. Perhaps that was what he was going to do—lead her out into the grounds and murder her, then hide her body in the lake.
“Please,” she whispered as he led her down the stairs. The stairs were drafty and dark, and she stumbled, but his hand on her wrist hauled her upright and she continued walking. “Please. Don’t kill me.”
“Keep your voice down,” he grunted.
Emmeline held her breath as they went down another flight and then down again, and then, abruptly, he gripped her shoulder.
“Stop,” he commanded.
Emmeline stopped walking and stood, rooted to the spot. It was mostly dark in the corridor, but here a window looked out onto the grounds. It was sunny outside, and Emmeline thought for a second about opening the window and screaming for help, but it would take too long and besides, Ambrose had threatened to take the life of the dowager countess if she screamed.
She heard something click and she let out a low cry, thinking that perhaps it was the hammer of a pistol being drawn back. But when she turned around, Ambrose was opening a door in the wall that she was sure had not been there before.
“In there,” he hissed. He grabbed her wrist and pushed her in the lower back, guiding her towards the opening.
“No!” Emmeline cried, but he pushed her again and she stumbled, and he grabbed the door and hauled it shut.
“That takes care of that,” Ambrose exclaimed, and the door shut.
Emmeline ran to the door, pounding on it. It was pitch dark around her, the tunnel quite narrow, and she sobbed in terror, tears of absolute horror running down her face. She was locked in, and nobody knew where she was.
She threw herself at the door, trying to break out, but it did not budge, and she sank to the floor, sobbing.
“Someone…please,” she shouted, her hands trembling as she pressed them against the unyielding door. “Please, help me.”
