Page 36 of The Trouble with Tigers
She really had only one option.
Minutes later, a gloating Garrick directed her down the narrow flight of stairs. He looked as cocksure as he ever had, certain he led her, a docile lamb, to the slaughter.
Little did he know she was saving her energy, waiting for an opportunity of escape to present itself.
They exited the meagerly lit boarding house, stepping into a a sea of fog that seemed to wrap around her like a vice. No stars shown in the low-domed sky, but dawn’s faint light glimmered over the far off rooftops.
“This way.” Grasping her wrist as if he feared she might bolt, he dragged her to the street corner where two large trunks stood.
They were really leaving, then. A bone-deep fear almost overcame her carefully crafted decision to play the broken-spirited prisoner, urging her to pick up her skirts and flee for her life. But she had to be smarter than that. He would only run her down, then keep an even closer watch. She sucked in a breath and forced herself to remain calm.
Garrick fixed a sharp eye on her, as if reading her thoughts.“The carriage will be ’round in a moment. Be a good girl and don’t give us any trouble, hmm?”
As if on cue, the rhythmic sound of horse hooves and clatter of wheels pierced the morning quiet. Garrick sent her a smile of pure male satisfaction.
She refused to grace his malevolence with a reaction, even as her empty stomach threatened to empty itself right there on the street. What would happen to her once Garrick got her away from London?
She would escape. She had to.
As the carriage neared, the fog seemed to part before it, as if making way for the handsome, matching grays and fine vehicle. He’d evidently spared no expense to ensure his comfort over the next several hours as they made their way to God knew where.
A second carriage trailed close behind the first. Kitty looked around, wondering if more guests were departing the boarding house at this early hour. So far as she could tell, she and her cousin were alone.
The carriage drew to a halt in front of them, a man in livery at the helm.
Was this Garrick’s personal coach? Certainly her grandfather had owned one, but not one this fine, and they had not kept a dedicated groom on staff as one had not been needed. The driver hopped to the pavement, placing the footstep.
The door to the carriage opened—from the inside. But that would mean it already carried a passenger.
Kitty shot Garrick a questioning look, and only then did she see his expression of horrified disbelief.
A man emerged from the darkened interior. His broad shoulders took up the entire width of the opening.
“What? No,” Garrick gasped.
She shook her head trying to clear her hallucination. She must be seeing what she wanted to see. He couldn’t possibly be here.
“Good morning,” came Zeke’s achingly familiar, completely out of place voice, and her knees threatened to buckle.
He bypassed the step, vaulting onto the curb in one lithe move, then turned to help another passenger, an elegantly dressed, elderly looking lady, from the carriage.
Kitty stared unblinking, afraid if she looked away, the pair would vanish.
In no apparent hurry, Zeke tucked the lady’s arm into the crook of his elbow, then turned to Garrick, a wolfish smile on his face. In his dark, fitted traveling attire and flowing black cape, he resembled a figure from a gothic novel. Not so much a hero as a villain. A wickedly handsome villain.
“Good. I thought we might be too early,” Zeke announced.
Garrick cleared his throat. “Too early.” He held up a gloved hand, gesturing for Zeke to give him a moment.
Zeke waited, a bland smile curving his mouth.
Finally, as if to himself, Garrick nodded. Then he tilted his head back to address Zeke. “It is quite early. I wasn’t expecting you quite yet.”
The second carriage halted behind Zeke’s.
Ah. Garrick’s rented carriage, she surmised. No matching grays there.
“No? Surely you didn’t expect me to shirk my responsibilities to my lovely fiancé?”
