Page 46 of The Gentleman's Seduction
The door handle rattled as someone tried to open it, but Livvy had locked it when she retired, not wishing to be disturbed.
“Open this door at once, Miss Hartwell!” the man shouted.
“No, Livvy, don’t!” Her father’s warning was cut short. She heard him grunt and a heavy thud as he fell to the floor.
“Papa!” she shouted, pressing herself against the door.
“Miss Hartwell, you will come out at once or else I will permanently damage your father.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Wouldn’t I? Your father owes me, and I assure you, given my position, the courts will side with me, even if I were to kill him byaccident.”
Livvy’s heart sank. She drew in a deep breath before she opened the door.
A tall, dark-haired man stood inches away from her. The second he saw an opening, he shoved the door hard. She stumbled back, wincing as her chest burned with pain from the impact. The man was on her in an instant, grabbing one of her arms and jerking her to her feet.
“You’re coming with me. Now,” he growled, and she was dragged from the room. Her father was an unconscious heap on the floor.
“Who are you?” She tugged on the man’s arm.
“Lord Stamford.”
Livvy shuddered as recognition struck her. She’d heard about him, a vile brute of a viscount, well known for escaping the consequences of his actions.
“You will pay for your father’s debt on your back.”
Livvy swallowed hard, barely able to breathe. “Please, let me go.” She knew begging would be of no use, but what other options did she have?
“Know your place, woman, and you will find the time passes easier.” He pulled her through the entryway and outside. She was thankful she hadn’t yet taken off her cloak or else she would have been freezing. Stamford shoved her into a waiting coach, and she cowered in the corner as far away from him as she could. She had to think of a way to escape.
He sat back, a cruel smile stretching his lips. She couldn’t help but see how different he was from Martin, despite the odd similarities of the situation. A pang of longing stung her heart. She would have given anything to be back in his arms.
“Why did you take me?” she asked Stamford. “Are you so desperate for a mistress that you must leverage debts to obtain one?”
Stamford smirked. “You have a tongue on you. Take care that you do not accidentally bite it off.”
Livvy gritted her teeth.
“I have taken you because some bastard named Banks challenged me to a duel over you, and I wish to punish him.”
“Martin fought over me?”
“I shot him, but only grazed him.” Stamford clenched his hands into fists on his thighs. “By all rights I won that duel, and I will not be made a fool by him or any other man.”
Livvy suddenly remembered Martin returning the morning after she’d hurt him with her careless words. He had been wounded, but he’d refused to tell her how.
“You’d better be a damned good lay. Your life may depend on it if I am in a foul mood.” Stamford’s deadly calm as he delivered the threat nearly paralyzed her.
Don’t let him frighten you. You must find a way to escape.
She wanted to crawl into a tight ball to escape the fear growing inside her, but she couldn’t. She had to be brave.
The coach stopped. He got out first and snapped his fingers impatiently. She rushed out after him, and he grabbed her arm, shoving her up the steps. She nearly tripped, and he snarled a curse at her but made no attempt to help.
She followed him inside his townhouse and glanced around. The decor was far too bold, as though he wanted to beat visitors over the head with his strength and fortune, but with no sense of place or purpose. The Persian rugs clashed with the Grecian lamps and Turkish Ottoman sofas. It was so very different from the refined elegance of Martin’s home.
“Baird!” Stamford bellowed at the haggard-looking butler.
