Page 27 of Wicked Designs
Emily kicked him hard in the stomach. He doubled over with a pained moan, clutching his abdomen and leaving her an opening. She slid off the bed and bolted towards the door. She had to get downstairs and reach the magistrate. He would save her from this madness, get her back to London, and perhaps Anne could help salvage a marriage to a man who didn’t care about scandal.
She took the stairs two at a time, and skidded to a halt just in front of the entryway, heart lurching high up into her throat, the pounding sound of boots behind her.
Godric came into the hall from his study, no doubt hearing the commotion. His eyes fixed on her, then the men rushing down the stairs, then flicked to the unguarded front door. The blood drained from his face.
“No! Emily, no!”
“Oh, go to blazes!” She spun and wrapped her arms around the door. She flung it wide so that it crashed against the wall, rattling a nearby mirror. The rush of freshcountry air was a blessed relief. She’d made it, as soon as the magistrate saw her she was as good as delivered.
Two figures on horseback were close by. One she was certain was the magistrate.
“Here! I’m here!” Emily shouted, waving her arms to attract their attention. One of the men, a more rotund looking man sat up straighter in his saddle and craned forward. She would know that man anywhere. Emily dashed back inside and slammed into Godric’s chest. “Quick! I’ve got to hide, he’s coming for me!”
Godric stared down at her in anger and confusion. “Now you want to hide? Perhaps I’m too busy packing a valise since you’ve so politely informed me I’m to leave for Blazes.”
“Quit being so stubborn and help hide me or we’ll both be in serious trouble.”
Godric reached around her and slammed the front door shut. “Who’s after you?”
“There isn’t time to explain. Can you find a place to hide me or not?” Emily demanded.
He gestured to the stairs. “This way.”
They returned to her room where the rest of the League joined them.
“You have to hide Emily. I think she might have been seen. I must see to the magistrate.” Godric stalked off, shooting a dark glance over his shoulder. Emily gulped.
“Bloody hell.” Ashton muttered. “Well, does someone have a plan?”
“I do,” Lucien pulled Emily over to the huge armoire in her chamber.
It was only half full of clothes and plenty of spare room remained in the bottom. They would be easily concealed.
“Get in, I’ll join you.” He tucked himself into the bottom of the armoire then pulled her onto his lap before the others shut the door to cloak them in darkness.
Godric couldn’t believe it.
This man—Thomas Blankenship—possessed the nerve to come into his home armed with a representative of the court.
What Blankenship didn’t know was that Mr. John Seaton, the magistrate, had known Godric and his family for years. In fact, Godric’s father turned down the magistrate position when the Crown offered it, and recommended Seaton in his place.
Godric asked Simkins to put the two men in the drawing room while he spoke with his friends.
“You three go to Emily’s chamber at once and see that every bit of clothing, every stocking, is taken below stairs, and hidden with the maids. I want no evidence that she was ever here. Send me her maid, have her dress in one of Emily’s gowns. I’ll require some way to explain this if they saw Emily.”
Ashton, Charles and Cedric nodded, then bounded back up the stairs.
Godric stood alone, fists clenched at his sides. It wastime to deal with the magistrate and this Blankenship fellow.
Seaton, the magistrate, was a wizened old man who possessed the refined features of a country gentleman. He flashed an apologetic look at Godric, and Godric reassured him with a nod before he turned his attention to the other man.
Thomas Blankenship was tall, but his wide girth and sour face took away any chance of decent appearance. Beetle black eyes and a sharp hawk nose contributed to the man’s predatory state, one that unsettled Godric. Blankenship was older, perhaps in his sixties, but the sense of power in him left Godric uneasy.
Godric gestured for them to sit. “What brings you here, gentlemen?” The magistrate gratefully dropped into the nearest chair. Blankenship, however, watched Godric for a long moment, studying him, before he finally sat.
“My deepest apologies, Your Grace. I had no wish to disturb you, especially not here—”
“It’s no trouble, Mr. Seaton.”
