Page 68 of The Curious Life of the Unfortunate Duchess
“Killed, yes,” Elizabeth snapped, her fear replaced by her annoyance. “You continue to tell me the same thing, Mr. Cooper. Forgive me if it is losing its effect.”
He gaped at her, apparently stunned by her response. In a blink, he advanced upon her, his irises merely the width of a poppy seed from hers. Elizabeth gasped, wrenching her head back.
“Do not mistake my amusement for weakness, Miss Elizabeth,” he spat. “Perhaps your binds are not as tight as they ought to be, hm? I will see your throat cut, be assured. I may even take pleasure in it.”
The terror resurfaced instantly and Elizabeth lowered her eyes.
“Yes, I understand,” she murmured. “Forgive me.”
He remained in her face a moment longer and for a brief time, Elizabeth was sure he would strike her. She kept her eyes averted, symbolizing submission, and it appeared to calm him.
“Now, I am explaining to you that if I am forced to kill you, it will be because your suitor has decided not to pay. I want you to die understanding that he did not care enough about your life to raise a few pounds for your salvation.”
Elizabeth raised her eyes and stared at him with disgust.
“Why?” she whispered. “Why would you want me to know such a thing?”
Cooper’s beam was without an iota of mirth.
“Perhaps because I am cruel,” he chirped, then climbed the steps, leaving her to stare after him. “Perhaps I enjoy the look of anguish on the face of a spoiled, rich wench.”
The cellar doors closed with finality and Elizabeth was returned to darkness once more, her heart pounding in her chest. Cooper was a dangerous man, possibly a lunatic, he despised her and nobles like her. Elizabeth had no faith that she would be returned to her family, regardless of who paid what amount.
I must escape.
Her life hung in the balance. She could not hope for a rescue and time was a luxury she did not possess. She needed to plan another way to escape.
Elizabeth struggled, shifting her weight against the chair. In her mounting panic, she fell sideways. With a grunt of pain, and the wind knocked out of her, suddenly Elizabeth heard the most glorious sound to ever meet her ears—the splintering of wood.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and silently thanked God before raising her wrists up along the broken wood.
Do not give them a single pence, Leonard. I am coming home.
Chapter 22
“This is a terrible idea, Leo,” Catherine waned him. Percival nodded in agreement.
“I do not think that confronting the Baron and Miss Priscilla without proof is a sound ploy.”
“And what would you have me do?” Leonard barked back. “I cannot do nothing!”
When he arrived on the stoop, he was surprised to see that Percival had caught up.
“I am at your side, Duke,” the Viscount assured him. “This is my daughter.”
The door swung inward and a maidservant stood, her eyes enlarging in surprise.
“Your Grace!” she gasped. “I-- we were not expecting you!”
“Where is Miss Priscilla?”
“In the parlor, Your Grace. Permit me to announce—”
Leonard shoved past her. He would not give his formerly betrothed a moment of warning that he was suspicious of her.
Priscilla lay on a chaise in the parlor, reading a book. At first, she did not seem to notice the arrival of the men but Leonard instantly shattered her peace with his accusations.
“What in God’s name have you done?”
