Page 86 of The Girl Out of Time
“I’ll speak with Grey. I’ll help him in whatever way I can in locating his daughter, and I’ll make sure the young lady is not punished.”
Theo clamped his mouth shut.
“Now, go.”
After a second of stunned surprise, Theo shuffled backward.
“My condolences,” the duke said. “For your connection.”
Theo didn’t find it in him to smile, not even in self-pity.
***
Biting shivers spread up her legs as Emmeline leaned into the sharp edge of the desk for what seemed like an eternity. The end loomed in whispers and shuffling of feet behind the closed door, until it finally opened.
Steps—intent, but lighter than men’s boots—marched toward her, and a hand forcibly turned her around. She looked into the duchess’ contorted red face.
“You’ll get out of here this instant,” the duchess hissed.
“Wh—”
“The only reason we’re not pressing charges is to avoid a scandal.”
“But Lord Grey—”
“Will find his daughter on his own. Count yourself lucky that our coffers are deep enough, and my husband was able to reach an agreement with him.” The duchess yanked her closer, glaring at her. “Leave and keep silent. I’d better not lay eyes on you again or hear a whisper of this event, or I’ll forget my charity.” She pushed Emmeline out of the room.
After a second of stunning shock, Emmeline bolted through a door at the back. This made no sense. Why would Lord Grey suddenly let her go?
And what happened to Theo?
She turned around, but hesitated through her fearful sobs. Even if she went back, how could she help Theo? She was a liar with nothing to bargain with.
She slid down the wall until she sat on the muddy ground, hugging her knees and hiccuping.
Home.I want to go home.Her fantasy wasn’t so perfect, but at no fault of its own. She took it as a dream, a play, a story to be written by her, to answer to her every whim. But it was no story—it was all real, and she’d made a terrible mess out of it.
She wanted to go back to Mother and Father and tell them she was sorry, that she truly didn’t know better, and ask them to forgive her and beg them to help. To guide her, to tell her how to fix this.
Home. Home. Home.She repeated the word over and over, flexing her fingers, but there was no blue mark on her pointer finger and no passage opening.
Home. Please, let me go home.
Her powers had deserted her.
She had no money to travel away, certainly not as far as the duchess wanted her to go. Panic took over, contracting her chest. She’d have to beg, get any work she could—but she’d also have to hide to not invoke the duchess’s vengeance.
Boots splashed in mud. Emmeline looked up, too tired to flee.
Mr. Wexley stopped a few feet away.
“Did you come to mock me?” she asked. “I’m afraid I won’t be able to s-serve any gossip.”
“I think I know enough.” He took off his hat as he slowly approached.
Emmeline scrambled to her feet and moved along the wall. She knew this scene from her books—the heroine down on her luck, with nowhere to go, when a man approaches her and asks her to be his mistress—
“Stay away!” She had no weapon, so she only reached out her arm.
