Page 41 of Sloth: The Fallen Earl
Many, many, years ago, she’d learned a vital lesson: when one heard violent shouting, run. Run as far away and as fast as one could. One second of hesitation cost a woman, andthe outcome? It wasn’t anything good, but, instead, everything destructive and painful.
Even with that life’s experience ingrained into her, Cressida could not bring herself to leave. The tumultuous argument between Benedict and what sounded like Lord Dynevor strangely called to Cressida more than escape. Cressida needed to know what Benedict now said about her.
Are you sure you really want to know?That same jeering inner voice of before mocked Cressida.
She’d been a coward many times in her life, until she’d eventually figured out, hiding from the truth or pain didn’t save her from suffering.
Cressida sneaked another look about and found herself still alone.
Lord Dynevor had guards everywhere. With that reminder fresh in her mind, guiding her movements, she proceeded cautiously.
As she did, she continued sneaking glances, watching for the eyes she knew existed inside The Devil’s Den, until she reached the end of the hall that directly led to the quarrel unfolding.
“Goddamn it!” Benedict was shouting. “You said the women in the auction were…”
Lord Dynevor raised his voice loud enough for Cressida to gather some of what he was saying, but he was still not quite so volatile as to demonstrate the self-control he currently had over Benedict.
“Do you know what you’ve done to me? The danger you’ve put me in?” Wakefield raged.
Cressida leaned in closer.
Wait, did the Earl of Wakefield believe he was in some kind of danger?For a minute, she believed he was joking, and Cressida nearly laughed her first laugh in longer than she could recall.
“Or maybe that was part of your plan.” Wakefield raised his voice again to a near roar. “A means to control m…”
Staggered, she drew back. My God, he is…serious.
Him, the same gentleman who’d taken her virginity and, as he’d said, possibly gotten her with child was worried about himself.
She’d spent all these years lauding him as some kind of hero in her head, only to find him very much like every other man in every way that mattered.
She felt empty, scraped clean by sorrow.
“Can I help you, miss?”
Gasping, Cressida spun.
Her stomach dropped like a stone.
The guard, Mauley.
His features were as impassive as they’d been last night. Cressida wondered if he was capable of either smiling or frowning. In truth, Mauley needn’t move a facial muscle, not when his silvery glacial-blue eyes contained all the emotion he needed. In this case, his gaze glinted with suspicion.
Perhaps if Cressida weren’t on the cusp of an emotional collapse, she might have feared him.
In this moment, he represented salvation.
“I need to get out of here,” she said, barely holding herself together.Please. “I need to leave. C-can you help me?”
Throughout his continued silence, Cressida’s agitation redoubled. Her fingers tingled and a cold sweat slicked her spine and palms. Her lungs began to close in.
Mauley passed an assessing stare over Cressida’s frame. A light quaking had already settled in her limbs, and she fought to quell that telltale sign of her weakness.
She anticipated his rejection, as she’d come to expect nothing else from men and life.
“Follow me,” he said, startling Cressida.
Maybe there was more than an empty shell who watched over this place.
