Low-hanging branches tugged at his greatcoat as he manoeuvred his pilfered mount through the copse of trees. How had the bitch bested him once again? And with a goddamned penknife! While the bleeding had been staunched, his shoulder and arm had long since grown sticky from blood, and he itched to wash it off.
A low growl rumbled from his chest, puffing into swiftly dissipating steam as he turned his mount out of the trees and into an inn’s courtyard. The upper floors were dark, but welcoming lights flickered in the foyer and taproom. His teeth chattered as a shiver wracked his frame, and he uttered a dark curse.
The bitch Juliana Sinclair was going to meet her end by his blade, by God, if it was the last sodding thing he did. He knew where she was, and he would be back. But first, he must see to bandaging his wound.
* * *
With each steptoward Mr. Notley’s library, Juliana felt closer to doom. After this, he would know what she’d done, and he would condemn her for it. But the sickening drop of her stomach and hard thump of her heart made no sense; she’d been about to leave his estate and his employment anyway—why should his ill opinion of her bother her so?
Kitty licked at her hand, pulling Juliana from her thoughts, and she scratched absently behind the dog’s ear. At the very least, the dogs wouldn’t think badly of her, and that ought to be something. She suppressed a cringe. Oh, but it wasn’t! As absurd as it was, she craved Mr. Notley’s approval.
Warm firelight flickered against the walls of bookshelves and cast haunting figures of dark, outstretched furniture along the large brocade rug. Their footfalls were scarcely audible over the rush of Juliana’s pulse in her ears.
“Please have a seat,” Mr. Notley said quietly, rounding his desk.
Juliana felt suddenly bereft without his large greatcoat enveloping her, having given it to a footman at the front entry. The hem of her skirts was damp and chilled, and her hair was half-fallen about her shoulders, windswept, and splattered in a man’s blood. It left her feeling…sullied.
With trembling legs, she lowered herself into the proffered chair.
“Will you tell me, now, what happened?” he asked softly. “From the beginning, if you please.”
Strangely, her stomach sank. She’d known that it was coming, and yet somehow, her heart had gone and hoped that it wouldn’t. Would that he could simply pull her into his embrace once more, and they could—
“Miss Smith?” His voice was slightly more insistent this time.
She sighed internally, clasping her trembling fingers together in her lap and shifting her seat on the padded leather chair. No matter his rescue of her, and the closeness they’d experienced in the carriage, she had been foolishly hopeful and her heart had been broken. She must remember that. Whatever amity had been between them was over. She would still leave the estate, and Mr. Notley must keep his staff and his niece safely distanced from the dangers that evidently followed Juliana.
At that moment, she had no reason to withhold the truth from him. The blackguard—whoever he was—was not dead, and, in fact, posed a very real threat. She could, however, deny Mr. Notley the truth of her identity. What purpose would that serve but to cause scandal should the staff speak of it? And, if she were honest, she desperately wanted to hold on to something just for herself, for this man had manoeuvred his way too deeply under her skin, and it rankled.
“From the beginning,” she repeated his words, swallowing past the thickness in her throat. “My father died just above one year ago, and the moment the requisite mourning period concluded, my brother arranged a marriage for me to a man who is aged nine-and-fifty, and would be sixty before the date of our wedding in the coming spring.”
Mr. Notley cursed under his breath.
She continued on at a steady pace. “As you might presume, I refused the match. But my brother was unyielding. He took exception to my protestations and moved the wedding to the day of Saint Valentine.
“I felt…betrayed.” Juliana licked at her lips and prepared the half-truth in her mind before the words tumbled from her lips. “I confided in an acquaintance of mine, and she offered shelter if I could but find my way to London. In a desperate attempt at freedom, I gathered as many of my family’s jewels as I could carry and my years’ worth of saved banknotes, and I fled after darkness fell.”
A knuckle cracked as Mr. Notley clenched his fist on his chair’s armrest.
“I rode to a nearby pub and requested a carriage and conveyance to London.” Juliana’s chin quivered, and her eyes prickled as memories flooded her. “The rest you already know, until…”
“Your escape from the carriage,” he urged.
“Yes.” She licked at her suddenly dry lips and wiped at her cheeks with the pads of her cool fingers. “I’d waited so long, tried so desperately to climb out. I cannot tell you the pure relief that I felt when the carriage door had finally been pried open. I’d thought that the man was there to help, that he was my rescuer. But—” she hesitated and licked at her lips once more—“h-he didn’t wish to help.”
Mr. Notley growled another curse.
“When he grabbed my h-hair, I realized…” Juliana cleared her throat, forcing herself to continue. “I’d thought that he was a highwayman, but he showed no interest in my pockets, despite my offering. He seemed r-rather more intent on hurting me.”
Juliana wiped again at her damp cheeks and pulled her lips between her teeth, afraid of telling him what came next. Nerves fluttered hatefully in her abdomen, and she pressed a hand over them. He was silent and tense across from her, waiting to hear the rest.
“The man lost his footing while attempting to pull me from the equipage and, taking advantage of his distraction in a moment of terror, I slid my hand into my pocket to feel for the pistol that I’d secreted there. I’d not e-even known if it was loaded, but the thought—thehope—had been there.
“When the handsome blackguard…” She fidgeted, scraping her nails together and knotting her fingers in her lap as the hateful memory flooded her mind: the man throwing her to the ground, the fiery hatred in his gaze as he wrapped his hands around her throat… “When I was out, I used my brother’s pistol to shoot the man that freed me.”
Heat spread across Juliana’s chest and bloomed hotter behind her eyes. It was a guilt that she’d carried with her since that night in the woods, and while she now ought to feel somehow unburdened, she felt the weight of it all the more.
The air between them was thick as more tears fell from her eyes.
