Page 9 of The Rogue's Last Scandal
Lord Kingsley’s face grew impossibly redder. Perhaps she could coax him into an apoplexy right here in her bedchamber. In all the confusion, she could easily get away.
“I have seen him do such to men who would harm me or my mother. He will not call you out to a duel of honor, for there is no honor in a man who would beat a ward in his care.”
The cane swung and she ducked and ran, hopping upon the bed.
“Especially not a ward whose money he was making free use of.”
Lady Kingsley had circled the bed. She was trapped.
“You, he will not beat, Lady Kingsley, but you will wish that he had.”
Thwack.
She jumped away from the cane.
“I gather that Carvelle’s lust is for my money and not my person.” She gasped as the cane struck her leg. “Careful. You must not prevent me from walking the aisle of your despicable English church.”
She hopped to the footboard and over it. A blow landed on her back.
“Not so hard,” her ladyship shouted. A dispute erupted between the two of them, and the next blow was softer.
She had said her piece. She must give them their blood so the others had time to escape. She must hold their attention.
With the next crack, sharp pain laced her skin and she bit back a scream. The next one carved deeper, stung harder. A hand clamped her shoulder and tugged at her robe, ripping the thin silk while she clung to the footboard, like that sailor on Papa’s ship, tied to the mast.
Squeezing her eyes and lips shut, she held on, enduring. She must save the people she loved.
