“My lord,” he said when Gavin inclined his head. “You have a…guest.”
Something in the slight hesitation sent alarm skittering across his skin.
“Who?” he demanded. “The constabulary?”
“No,” Miss Pemberton breathed, backing up until her shoulders bumped against the gray stones of the outer wall. “Please, no.”
The footman handed Gavin a small white card. No matter how many times he read it, the name inscribed therein remained the same.
NEAL PEMBERTON
Chapter 31
Evangeline plastered herself against the side of Mr. Lioncroft’s house, wishing the stones scratching at her hair and clothes could swallow her whole.
Mr. Lioncroft hadn’t said as much, but the way he stared at the calling card instead of meeting her eyes spoke volumes. Volumes about how she didn’t have until tomorrow after all, how those stolen moments in the summerhouse had now become farewell kisses, how she should’ve been running away instead of flying kites, for heaven’s sake. She should’ve fled as fast as her feet could take her, until she wore clean through her boots and her feet bled over the dirt and rocks.
And then run some more. Run until her lungs ached, until her knees buckled, until she died of exhaustion if that’s what it took, because if her stepfather caught her, she’d never escape again. He was here. Hehadcaught her. He would strike her, he would take her, he would lock her up…but he wouldn’t kill her. No, not yet. Not until he was done with her. Not until death was the more favorable option.
She should’ve run.
Strong hands seized her by the forearms. Mr. Lioncroft. Gavin. Too late.
“No,” he said to her, his voice low, urgent, determined. “Whatever you’re thinking:No. Trust me. I know it’s impossible, but do it anyway.”
“I have to leave,” she whispered. “I have to run. I have to—”
“Wait.” His knuckles caressed the side of her cheek, softly, briefly, and then he turned to his footman. “Where is he?”
“Doyle showed him into the Yellow Salon to await you, my lord.”
“Well, show him out.”
“My lord?”
“Show him to the porch. He can wait for me there. He’s not welcome in my home. Porch. Go.” The moment the footman disappeared, Mr. Lioncroft’s gaze was upon her again. He reached out, slightly, subtly, to brush her fingertips with his own. His neck was corded, his muscles tensed, his jaw hard. He cut his gaze toward Susan. “Take Evangeline inside. Now. Use the servants’ side entrance.”
“I-I won’t know how to get back to the guest quarters,” Susan stammered.
“You don’t need to. Stay in the servant quarters.”
“With theservants?”
“As a precaution. It’s the last place anyone would look for you two.” He hauled open the side door. “Go. Keep her safe.”
Susan nodded, nudged Evangeline forward and through the darkened doorway. Evangeline stepped inside, turned, gazed at the man still standing outside the cracked door.
“He’ll take me,” she said, unable to keep the bleakness from her tone.
“He won’t.”
“He’ll hurt me, and then he’ll take me. That’s his way.”
“Hewon’t.” A muscle clenched at Gavin’s temple. “I may not be a peer or have a positive reputation myself, but I can pay for a solicitor—"
“—who can do nothing. He owns me. I have no evidence of wrongdoing to offer. There’s nothing you can do.”
“I’ll do it anyway. I—” He broke off, blinked, shook his head as if startled by whatever he’d been about to say. “I’ll be back. Stay safe. I…I’ll be back.”
