Page 35 of The Trouble with Tigers
Zeke dropped back in his seat. “How so?”
“M’ boy, you’re asking the wrong question.”
“Which is?”
“How are we going to thwart him?”
Chapter Eight
“Wake up.” The hissed words travelled up her spine like a spider dancing up its web.
Kitty’s eyes flew open to pitch-blackness. “Wh-what?”
A vice-like grip bit into her arm. “I said wake up. We’re leaving.”
Garrick. In a sickening rush, memory flooded back. Her departure from Claybourne Manor. The earl’s encouraging smile. Zeke. Her heart squeezed as she thought of him. But why? Because his loose lips had landed her here? No. Because last night she’d come to the conclusion she'd never see him again.
She silently chastised herself. She had real problems to worry about.
“What time is it?” She demanded of Garrick. Her gritty eyes told her she’d barely slept. “Where are we going?”
He ignored her. A moment later an oil lamp ignited, shedding muted light on the small room.
“My lady?” came a frightened voice from the corner. The poor maid, Mary, whom Zeke had offered up for Kitty’s protection.
Garrick cursed under his breath and muttered something about dealing with baggage. He stalked toward the hapless Mary, huddled under her blanket on a makeshift palette.
“Whatever your name is, your services are no longer required. In several hours, Claybourne will send someone to collect you. You will wait here until then. Understood?”
She nodded, wide-eyed, sheets to her chin. She slid Kitty a sheepish look.
Kitty didn’t blame her. She’d known from the outset the girl’s presence could offer no more than a token shield against Garrick’s tyranny. What could a young female servant do to protect Kitty from the likes of him? Less than Kitty herself.
Not to mention the poor girl was terrified. Last night she’d turned to Kitty for comfort after Garrick threatened both of them with bodily harm should either attempt to leave the chamber.
His threats hadn’t stopped Kitty from trying the door after he left, much to Mary’s distress.
“You shouldn’t be doing that, m’lady. What if his lordship hears? He said he’d hurt us.” She all but tugged at Kitty’s sleeve.
“He’s likely to do worse to us if we stay.”
She regretted her words immediately as they sent Mary into a frenzy of tears, and all for naught. He’d locked them in.
“You have five minutes.” Garrick’s menacing voice cut into her thoughts. He let himself out into the corridor, shutting and locking the door behind him.
“Will you be all right, milady?” Mary whispered.
“I’ll be fine, Mary, never you mind.” She knew nothing of the sort, but why trouble the poor girl with her problems?
Mary rose to help her into her high necked gown.
She hadn’t much else in the way of things. Sturdy shoes, yes, but no gloves or hat or pelisse. She eyed herself in the small mirror above the basin.
Dark circles underscored her eyes. A few errant curls hung loose, defying her hasty attempt to secure her hair in a knot at her nape. Her dress was a hopeless, rumpled mess. She looked utterly beaten.
She smiled. Good.
She mentally rehearsed her options, or lack thereof, as she waited for Garrick to return for her. She could fight, or scream for help once in earshot of the inn’s other patrons. But no good would come of it. If anyone bothered to intervene on her behalf, Garrick would proclaim himself her legal guardian, with every right to drag, push, or pull her wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted.
