Page 71 of The Damsel
“Gun!” she called out just before the carriage door swung open.
The blast of Downing’s blunderbuss cracked through the night, but as the smoke cleared, Cassandra could see that his shot had hit nothing but thin air.
“You stupid bitch!” Stratford bellowed, lunging across the carriage toward her.
With freedom looming within her reach now, Cassandra willed herself to gather the strength to fight. As Downing was dragged from the carriage by their assailant, she met Stratford head on, lunging across the space between them. Her bed sheet forgotten, she ducked to avoid the swing of the dagger in her hand, then slammed a fist into his midsection. Pain radiated up her arm, but she ignored it, retrieving Downing’s blunderbuss and bringing it down on Stratford’s head. The earl fell back against his seat with a curse, blood trickling from his temple.
“I’ll take it from here,” stated a familiar voice.
She glanced up to find a man in the opening, the moonlight framing him from the top of his golden head to the drape of a black domino about this shoulders. Even from behind a black mask she knew that face, had memorized its angles and planes and the pout of that plush mouth. Tears of relief stung her eyes as he revealed the pistol he held in one hand, leveling it at Stratford.
“Stand and deliver,” he ground out, pulling back the hammer and filling the carriage with the ominous sound of the gun being cocked.
Stratford’s mouth gaped open, one hand pressed to his bleeding temple as his gaze darted from her to Robert, and back again.
“I-I don’t understand … you’re not the Masked Menace, she is!”
Robert’s mouth curved into a mocking smirk. “Are you certain? She isn’t the one standing here in a mask, pointing a gun at you.”
Stratford shook his head, hands shaking as he jerked his cravat away and pulled at the collar of his shirt. Buttons went flying when he tore the garment open to reveal his disfigured chest. Cassandra’s work had scarred over, leaving behind the dark slashes from her blade spelling out a single word.
RAPIST.
Robert inclined his head, showing no response to the sight of the earl’s mutilated chest. “Step out of the carriage. Now.”
Stratford shook his head, jaw clenched tight. “I know she is the true Menace, and I am owed retribution for what she did to me.”
“Get out of the goddamn carriage!” Robert bellowed, thrusting the gun in Stratford’s face until the muzzle came up against the earl’s forehead.
With the dagger back in Cassandra’s hand and Robert’s pistol pointed at him, Stratford had no choice but to obey. He stepped out of the carriage and disappeared, his muffled grunts and groans mingling with the thuds of fists flying. Apparently, Robert hadn’t come alone.
His expression softened behind the mask when he ducked back into the vehicle and approached her. She could hardly see his face with the moon at his back, but felt the warmth in his voice, heavy with worry and love.
“Cass, are you all right, love?”
She cried out when he took hold of her, his thumb pressing over one of the deep cuts on her arm. She’d torn it open in her last effort against Stratford and it had begun to bleed.
“You’re hurt,” he exclaimed, cupping her face and tilting it to get a better look at her. “They hurt you!”
“I’m all right,” she said, putting her hands over his where they rested against her face. “They did hurt me, but I’ll survive, and … and you came for me.”
His forehead rested against hers and he exhaled, a long slow breath carrying every ounce of his relief and pain. She’d pushed him away, spurned his love, and still he had come to rescue her—a damsel who’d insisted she hadn’t needed saving. But the truth couldn’t be denied.
She had needed saving, and not just from Downing and Stratford.
“Nothing could have stopped me,” he declared. “Not even you. Can you stand?”
She nodded, taking his hand as she edged toward the carriage door. Robert backed out, keeping a tight grip on her hand. Outside, things had grown silent and still, so she allowed herself to settle into relief as he led her out of the vehicle. Whatever happened next, she had Robert. He had come for her, and she was safe.
The warm evening breeze tickled her face, and the feel of the hard-packed earth under her bare feet came as a relief after so many hours hanging from the ceiling.
The driver had been knocked unconscious, his body propped against the side of the vehicle, hands bound before him.
She found Stratford on his knees with a gag splitting his lips, Downing still on his feet but kept subdued by the large man who held his hands clenched behind his back.
“Peter?” she blurted, recognizing Millicent’s lover even in the dark.
He flashed a smile at her while using very little effort to keep Downing restrained. “Hello, Cass. Millie sends her regards. You didn’t think we’d stand back and allow you to be abducted, did you?”
