The scrape of carriage wheels behind her stopped her heart. Without turning, she slipped through the fence opening of an unknown residence and crouched in a snow drift, peering through the iron bars.
A black coach, with two men stationed on the driver’s bench, rolled slowly past her hiding place and turned left at the corner. Waiting for a beat, Eveline popped up. However, the noise of the carriage wheels grew louder again, and she dropped down once more as the coach reappeared, heading in the opposite direction at the same snail-like pace.
It must be Humphrey.
If he was searching the streets, he’d figured out that she’d tricked him. However, he’d underestimated her desire to escape him.
Waiting until the noise of crunching snow faded, Eveline peeked her head out, then rose and ran down the lane. She turned right on the next street, slipped, tweaking her ankle, and had to slow her pace. Gasping for breath, she planted her hands on her sides and hobbled, as fast as her body would allow, toward her house.
When she reached the edge of Mrs. Webb’s property, a tiny smile broke out on Eveline’s face, and she forced herself into a run, hurrying as the fence opening came into view. She grabbed hold of the fence, careening around the corner, rushed up the pathway, and skidded to a halt.
Standing on her doorway, holding a bundle of lavender, waited Humphrey.
“Are you going to invite me in?” he asked, lifting the flowers to his nose and inhaling the sickeningly sweet scent.
Lifting her hands into a defensive position, she slowly backed away from him, watching him warily as one might do when they cornered a wild animal.
“I said,”—Humphrey flung the bundle aside and strode forward—“invite me in.”
“No.” Eveline shook her head, her shoes scraping on the icy walkway.
Where could she run?
“Ah, ah, ah,” Humphrey said, wagging his finger. “You’re not going to disappear on me again. If I have to hunt you through these streets, I will capture you and take you back with me. Whether you ride inside the coach or run behind it depends upon your next decision.”
One foot half-raised, Eveline paused, staring into his eyes. He’d follow through with his threat. She wouldn’t survive the journey tethered to the back of the coach. When exhaustion overtook her, she’d fall, and the carriage would drag her until nothing remained of Eveline Braddock but bones.
Slowly, she set her foot back on the ground.
“Excellent,” he said, striding toward her. “I’m pleased you can follow commands. Perhaps this little journey wasn’t for naught.”
He reached out to cup her face, and she flinched. Darkness clouded his eyes. He raised his arm higher, then swung, smacking her across the cheek. Stars exploded in Eveline’s vision, and she crumpled in the snow, her body limp.
Humphrey advanced on her, his hand balling into a fist. Rolling onto her side, Eveline squeezed her eyes shut and cringed, waiting for the pain that would accompany his anger.
His fingers closed around her ankle, and he yanked, pulling her closer. Then he knelt and trapped her body between his legs. Leaning over, he planted his hands on both sides of her face, bringing his nose within a centimeter of hers.
“I was too lenient with you before,” he rumbled, his warm breath brushing over her lips. “I see that now.”
Before she could react, he grabbed both her arms and pinned her wrists above her head, driving her hands into the snow.
“However, I’m going to rectify that error right now.” His free hand caressed her face. “And when I’m finished with you, no man will ever look at you again.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
LEVI OVERTON, DUKE OF LENNOX
One hour prior…
Levi paced the study, driven by a nagging sensation that something was terribly wrong. He hadn’t seen Miss Braddock since Mrs. Creasey accused her of murdering Miss Drummond. Then Mr. Drummond appeared, and Levi lost Miss Braddock among the crowd.
It was as if she’d evaporated into the air.
He tugged at his cravat, swallowing the mound of sand gathering in his throat.
“How much longer do you expect Mr. Drummond to keep us waiting?”
Quill in hand, Mr. Hughes glanced up from the desk. “He requested five minutes to process his grief for the loss of his sister. We can allow that.”
