Page 62 of A Sense of Misgiving
Paul nodded. Of course Luke would have thought of that. Ordinarily, Paul would have got there before him and made similar suggestions, but these were far from ordinary circumstances. He forgave himself for being distracted since the prospect of Mary being manhandled by that pathetic excuse for a man filled him with a towering rage that made rational thought impossible.
He and Luke didn’t speak again until they reached Arnold’s house an hour later. Paul hadn’t been there before and was surprised by its modest proportions.
‘Smaller than I expected,’ Luke remarked, rubbing the side of his face with a gloved hand to dislodge a lump of dried mud that had splattered across it.
‘Not what you would have expected Lucy Redfern to settle for,’ Paul agreed. ‘No wonder she feels so resentful.’
‘She made her choices,’ Luke replied with a marked lack of sympathy.
They rode to the side of the house and, finding the stable yard devoid of human presence, left their horses in two empty stalls. With Romulus leading the way, his muddy tail flapping, they then knocked at the front door.
‘Where is your mistress?’ Luke asked, barging past the maid who answered it.
‘Sir, you can’t…’
‘Luke!’ Lucy rushed into the entrance hall, her face paling at the sight of him.
‘Where is my sister?’
‘She’s…I was just about to…’
She sent an uncertain glance towards the back of the house. Luke and Paul almost knocked her from her feet as they both strode in the direction of a conservatory. Romulus put his nose to the ground and barked.
‘She’s perfectly safe, I assure you.’
Lucy spoke in a loud voice, as though attempting to warn Redfern of their arrival. Luke scowled when he discovered that the door had been locked from the outside. Why had Mary been locked in—and more to the point, who had done the locking? Not Redfern, if he was inside with Mary. That only left Lucy. Of all the conniving…
Luke and Paul shared a murderous glance and Paul felt his heart plummet. Frantic and infuriated cries sounded from the conservatory as Luke kicked the door open hard enough to send it crashing against the wall. Romulus dashed in ahead of them. Redfern had thrown Mary onto a couch and she was struggling to fight him off. Paul watched her take advantage of the distraction they had caused and bring up her knee, hitting him hard in the groin.Good girl!Redfern screamed like a girl but didn’t release her.
‘No use fighting, my little wildcat. You’ll only increase my desire for you if you continue to resist, and that will make it worse for you.’
He was so intent upon what he was doing that, incredibly, he hadn’t even glanced up to seek the course of the noise that had temporarily distracted him. Paul made him aware of their presence by growling louder than Romulus, grabbing the back of his collar, and physically pulling him off Mary. Far from appearing contrite at the interruption, Redfern simply gave an insolent smile.
‘Wait your turn,’ he said, smirking at Paul.
It was too much. Before Luke could claim first refusal, Paul put years’ worth of pent up frustration into the punch that he landed on Redfern’s chin. The man fell to the floor, blood pouring from a split lip, but didn’t lose consciousness. Instead, he sat up, still smirking, and wiped blood from his lip with the back of his hand. His jaw appeared to have taken on a new configuration, and he seemed unable to close his mouth properly.
‘Didn’t know you had it in you, Dalton,’ he muttered, spitting blood. ‘Damned nuisance, you turning up like that. If you’d had the goodness to leave it another ten minutes…’ He shrugged. ‘Shame that. She’s an enticing little piece.’
Paul refused to listen to the rantings of a degenerate—rantings intended to incite him further, no doubt. He grabbed Redfern by the hair, lifted him to his feet and punched him again, squarely in the face this time. He heard bone crunch as Redfern fell backwards into a chair, unconscious. He looked at him briefly, satisfied that a broken nose and jaw would give his scar a new air of menace and spoil the man’s looks forever, even after his face had mended. Then he went to Mary. He pulled her skirts down to cover her modesty, and crouched at her side, taking her trembling hands in his.
‘You came,’ she said softly. ‘I knew you would. That is, I hoped I would be missed and…’
‘Are you all right? Did he…’
She swallowed, tears streaming down her face, and shook her head. ‘No, but he would have if you hadn’t come. I tried to fight him off, but he was too strong, too…’
She collapsed in tears and Paul held her in his arms for the first time, just as he had done so often in his imagination, soothing her like a child. The hands that had brought such vengeance down upon Redfern now stroked her hair tenderly. Luke, astonishingly, hadn’t interceded and appeared content to stand sentry over Redfern, who was groaning and showing signs of returning consciousness.
‘Hush, it will be all right. We’re here. I am here. I won’t let anyone hurt you, my sweet. Not ever,’ he told her in a soft and fiercely protective tone.
‘I was a fool. I should have cancelled when my maid fell ill.’
‘You were not to know.’
She wriggled out of his arms and smiled tentatively at Luke. ‘I’m so sorry,’ she said contritely.
‘You are not to blame,’ Luke assured her. ‘Are you sure you’re unharmed?’
