Page 90 of Scandalous Heiress
“Sweetheart, look at me.”He cupped her chin.“It’s Victor.”
Her eyes rolled back, then she lurched forward, gagged and pushed him away.
He let her lean over the damn bowl.
She retched a few times but her stomach was empty.She wiped her mouth and sank back.
“I’ve got to carry you.Let me.”
She whimpered.“Victor?”
“Yes, my love.”He gathered her in his arms, her body dead weight, her head lolling.But he found his balance.Tonight, he vowed, he would leave here without the need of his cane.Ada’s life depended on it.And his indignation alone might propel him to the moon and back.
And so he strode with her through his brother’s bedroom, past the man splayed upon the chaise.
“Let me down,” she begged.Clamping the handkerchief to her mouth, she gulped but did not wretch.
The sounds were enough to rouse Richard.
But nothing aided him to get to his feet and stay there.Or to reach Victor when he finally did stand straight.Instead, he held his ground as he reeled.“What in hell d’you think you’re d’ing?Y’ can’t take her.She’s mine.Ruined her for you.”
Freddie however had more eloquent things to say with his pistol.He poked him and Richard unceremoniously fell back to the chaise.
“Hell, Billings!Think you can fire that?”Richard struggled up.
“If you want to learn,” Freddie sneered, “I can oblige you.”He motioned for Richard to return to the chaise.
Richard cursed at him.
“Walk on,” Freddie urged Victor.
Ada inhaled deeply, then dropped her head against his shoulder.Her nails dug into his clothes.“Victor.”
He made it to the central stairs and leaning his hip against the massive black walnut banister, used it to support his weight as he took one step down.And another.
He sensed Freddie behind him.
Richard followed.“Can’t get far.”
Freddie chuckled.
“Where the hell is Tildon?”his brother yelled.“Tildon!”
But no one answered.
“She’s not for you,” Richard sneered, trying to provoke him.
Tonight he’d already hit his limit though.Victor kept on taking one sure step and then another.
“I had her,” he called down.
Freddie snorted.“Doubt that, dear boy.”
Victor would one day laugh at Freddie’s use of the term that Richard so often employed in his quest to sound superior.
A clatter came from the far end of the hall.An older fellow stumbled into the foyer, tying his robe, mumbling.The old butler.
Victor knew the man.Sweet, harmless, hard-working.Wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing to prohibit him and Freddie from taking Ada away.
