The low laugh came again. “He’s still in the stables, pet.”
Maria shifted her stance, adjusting her hold on her dagger as she prepared for an attack. She was abruptly grateful for the training, however basic, that she’d received from Mr. Greene.
Fabric shifted across the room, and her gaze sharpened. She could see almost nothing through the obscurity, but she knew he was there, watching her. The back of her neck prickled, and a shiver wracked her frame.
“How did you get in, Francis?” she asked, marvelling at the calmness of her own voice.
“I’ll not fail where Miles did,” he replied, ignoring her inquiry. His voice was low and steady, with a slight gruffness to it.
She wanted to tell him that he had it all wrong, but she’d only just found the letter and wasn’t certain that she was entirely correct regarding his intentions, so she remained silent.
There was another shift in fabric, and Maria was certain that he’d stepped nearer.
“Surely there is an amicable solution for you and His Grace.”
A hiss came from the darkness. “No.” The word was barked, Francis’ voice low and biting. “There is noamicablepath for us. I will end this as I ought to have from the start: with death.”
The cruelty in his voice took on a verve that sent cold dread through Maria. The man’s longing for the dukedom and his need for revenge was not borne out of a sense of duty or obligation; hewantedto do this.
“Why have you been quotingKing Lear?” she asked, in an attempt to get him talking.
“Everyone Jasper cares for will face me,” he replied, again ignoring her inquiry.
He stepped closer, slowly revealing himself in the dim light from the doorway.
His brown hair appeared freshly washed, his face clean-shaven, and his blue eyes dark as pitch in the dim lighting. She eyed him carefully, watching the play of his coat for any sign of a hidden weapon, but he didn’t appear to be armed. Still, she held her dagger at the ready.
The man’s lips curled malevolently, and another shiver skittered down Maria’s spine.
“And,” he continued, his voice dropping ever lower, “I do so like to play with my toys.”
CHAPTER13
His toys, Maria thought, her stomach wobbling. Francis wanted toplaywith?—
Before her thought could be completed, the man lunged, his lips pulled back in a gleeful snarl. Pulse jumping, she braced for his attack.
She held one arm up in defence and drew her dagger-wielding arm back, preparing to strike. His sudden blow glanced off her elbow while his other hand struck her fist, knocking the dagger from her grip.
His eyes flared with triumph, and he wrapped one hand around her neck. “Not so brave when you’re unarmed, are you?”
A beat of fear pulsed through her, but she squelched it.
His sharp, rum-and-cake–scented breath wafted over her cheek as he leaned in to watch her eyes.
“How shall I play with you?” he asked slowly. “What would cause more pain to our dear Jasper?”
Maria glared at him. She could not concede defeat, yet.
With as much strength as she could muster, she lifted her knee into his cods.
Francis howled and released her with a string of curses.
She stepped back in retreat but caught her heel on the leg of the low table and toppled backward onto her arse. Pain lanced up her spine and rattled her teeth. With a groan, she scrambled to her knees and reached for her fallen dagger.
Pinpricks of pain shot through her scalp and neck as Francis wrenched her head backward, her mobcap and hair caught in the cur’s fist. Fear clawed its way back into the forefront of her heart, briefly squashing her steely determination.
The man clutched wildly at her hair and frock, dragging her backward along the carpet. A hoarse cry tore from her lips before the man settled his weight against her back, his panting breaths sounding increasingly likeenjoyment.
