Page 49 of An Execution, an Earl, and Miss Hughes
“You’re a clever girl, to have figured all this out, Miss Hughes,” she finally said, the calmness of her voice scaring Sarah more than her earlier hysterics. “If you were a smidgen cleverer, however, you might have thought that it wasn’t in your best interest to confront me alone.”
Sarah froze, as Mrs Vickery began to back up the steps to the front door, her eyes never leaving Sarah’s face. Was there a shotgun hidden in the porch? She didn’t wait to find out. Self-preservation took hold, and she spun on her heel and ran.
A furious howl followed her, but she didn’t dare look back. Instead, she kept her eyes on the gate as she sprinted toward it, hoping—praying—that she would reach the safety of the road before she became Mrs Vickery’s third victim.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
LORD DEVERELL ANDLord Crabb had not long turned onto the London Road when the unmistakable figure of Mr Marrowbone hove into view, riding a rotund pony that looked as enthusiastic as its master at the idea of hard work.
“Morning, my lords!” the constable called cheerfully, as they drew abreast. “Off to Long Acres, are we?”
He gave his pony a vague nudge, which it ignored entirely. Lucian and Crabb were both forced to pull on their reins, so their own mounts wouldn’t overtake the idle beast.
“What’s all the fuss about anyhow?” Mr Marrowbone continued, his genial smile fading a little. “Only I was halfway through a pint when Anne—you know, Miss Hughes’s maid—came haring into the pub, saying I was to get to Long Acres quick as I could. Something about Miss Hughes running off to confront Mrs Vickery. Now, I know the baking contest gets competitive but it’s unseemly, ladies brawling over cakes.”
Lucian’s breath caught in his throat. Sarah had gone to Long Acres alone?
He turned sharply to Lord Crabb, who had gone very still.
“Miss Hughes is already there?” Lucian asked, his voice low and cold.
Marrowbone blinked at the ice in his tone. “That’s what the girl said. She stormed in calling for the constable, like it wasn’t a Sunday; I need my day of rest like everyone else. Why do you ask? D’you think—”
But Lucian didn’t wait for the end of the question. He wheeled his horse around and set off at a gallop, the pounding of hooves matching the racing beat of his heart.
Behind him, he heard Crabb call for Marrowbone to keep up but Lucian paid no heed. He rode like a man possessed. The hedgerows blurred as he thundered down the lane, every muscle taut with fear.
If something was to happen to Sarah, Lucian wasn’t certain what he would do. He knew the pain of losing someone he loved. He had survived it once, but he could not bear it again.
God help him, he loved her.
The realisation broke over him as Long Acres came into view, spurring him on. He dug his heels into Brambles’ flanks, his thoughts filled only with Sarah.
As he neared a scream ripped through the air; high, sharp, female. Then a gunshot rang out from beyond the hedge, ricocheting off the stone pillar of the gate. As grit and debris rained down, a figure emerged onto the road.
"Sarah!” he called, and she turned to him.
In a flash, he made his decision. He spurred his horse toward her and, as he reached the gate, leaned down and extended his arm.
“Take my hand!”
She did not hesitate or question. She lifted her hand to meet his, and with a strength born of desperation, he hauled her up and into the saddle in front of him. She landed against his chest with a thud, breathless and frightened.
Lucian dropped one hand from the reins, to pull her securely against him. If it wasn’t for the imminent danger they were in, he might have allowed himself a moment to appreciate the feel of her pressed against him. Another time, he thought ruefully.
“Don’t stop, my lord,” Sarah whispered, turning to glance back at the gates of Long Acres. “She’s confessed to killing two men already; she’ll kill us both.”
Though the idea of riding off with Sarah into the sunset was tempting, Lucian shook his head.
“Crabb and Marrowbone are behind me,” he said, “I can’t leave them to walk into an ambush. I will leave you here to hide, and for the love of God—don’t move this time.”
She nodded meekly, her face pale.
“And for heaven’s sake, call me Lucian,” he added for good measure.
Once they had rounded the bend, Lucian lifted her down from the saddle. Her arms circled his neck as her feet touched the ground and, to his surprise, she pulled him toward her and kissed his lips.
“Promise you’ll come back to me, Lucian,” she whispered, tears welling in her beautiful blue eyes.
