Jasper ran from the room, down the corridor and up the stairs through the foyer, continuing on until he reached the attic, out of breath and damp with perspiration. But it was as it had been before: rows of beds, tables, and the personal effects of his servants. No one else was in his home, and yet…
He turned to the others that had followed him. “Spread out. Search the grounds, the gardens, the scullery, fucking furniture, I don’t care. The man must be somewhere nearby, and Imustknow what he’s done to—” He couldn’t complete the thought, couldn’t even imagine that those shots had been for her.
CHAPTER24
Breath hissed between Maria’s teeth as she rose to her knees. Fire blazed through the flesh of her upper left arm, and she knew what she would find even before looking down at the crimson stain blooming on her soot-covered frock.
How in heaven’s name would she explainthisto her mother? The woman would be positively?—
Francis groaned from his place on the floor across from her, dragging Maria out of her momentary reverie. She would finish it this time.
Ignoring the agony in her arm and the stiff ache in her other limbs, she rose to stand over Francis. Blood oozed from the cut to his shoulder and chest, and the gunshot to his left knee. She shook her head at him.
“You’ve been a right pain in the arse,” she said, more to herself than to him, for Lord knew it was true.
His face was flushed as he clutched his bleeding knee, his eyes bulging in pain and his lips sneering with fury. With a tap to his shoulder with the tip of her half-boot—to ensure he wouldn’t reach for her—she bent and unfastened his cravat.
Blood from her wound slid down her fingertips, staining the off-white fabric a deep red. Her fingers trembled and slipped on the rapidly growing red stain, but she managed to tug it off. Gripping his upper arm, she attempted to roll him onto his side, but he fought.
“You’ll not take me,” he wheezed, wobbling upon the floor.
“If you don’t desist your flopping,” she grunted, “I shall be forced to find an object with which to render you unconscious.”
His eyes full of fiery hatred and mutinous intent, he fussed and fought as she clasped his shoulder and hip and rolled him to his front. Panting with exertion, she slid up his person, pressed a knee into the arch of his back, and pulled his arms behind him. A roar of pain vibrated through him, and she mercilessly wrapped the cravat around his wrists and secured a tight knot.
“Hush, now,” she said sternly, a sweat breaking out on her brow and between her breasts. “I thought you enjoyed pain.”
Rising, Maria cursed under her breath and removed her pelisse with a groan of agony, the reddened material heavy with her blood. Lord, but she could taste the coppery tang in the air. She hastily sat on the bastard’s thighs and tied his ankles with the bulky fabric.
A glance around the space told her that she hadn’t many options on how she might carry the man from the room. She couldn’t very well leave him there without supervision, for he’d undoubtedly find a way to free himself and wreak havoc upon their lives once more. She hadn’t a choice; she must bring him with her.But how?
Her gaze landed on his unkempt bed with its dark bedclothes of undeterminable colour, and her decision was made. She stood, pausing momentarily as a wave of faintness spun her head and blurred her vision, before she reached for the thin counterpane and laid it on the floor beside Francis.
The man sputtered, groaned, and swore at her as she rolled him onto it.
“Where is the entrance to the duke’s attic?” she demanded.
He spat on the floor near her booted feet.
She glanced about, and said aloud, “The door is on that side of the room, so the attic must adjoin to Jasper’s on this side.” She strode to the wall and pressed firmly on the wood panelling.
Walking along the wall, she continued to press, blinking through the occasional blurriness. A smooth divot caught her eye, and she placed her fingertips inside and gave a push. The panel moved, just as fabric rustled behind her. She spun and cursed soundly as another wave of faintness whirled through her head.
Blinking rapidly, she focused on the man squirming on the floor. “You’ll not be released that way.”
He spat again, and she shook her head. Returning to her task, she pushed the panel wider, until there was enough space for her to go through. On the other side of the passage, she slid a similar panel aside, but was blocked by a stack of paintings that entirely obscured the opening.
Frustration bubbled up through her chest as she realized how Francis had evaded their searches.
Careful to keep the blood smears at a minimum, Maria clasped the paintings and slid them along the floor, giving herself enough space through which to move. Then, she returned for her bounty.
Her arm seared hot while the rest of her felt cold, but she gripped one end of the counterpane in both hands and dragged Francis through the short connecting passage and into the storage space in Jasper’s attic. Heaving a breath, she pulled him across the space and toward the doorway.
Her back and thighs burned with use, but she welcomed the pain; with every step she was closer to having Francis back on trial and hung for his beastly crimes.
They reached the stairs, and for the briefest of moments, she felt guilty for what she was about to do. But then Francis spat at her, and the guilt faded. With careful backwards steps, she made her way to down the stairs, the man bouncing and cursing with each step. Her head spun, and she fought to keep a tight hold on the counterpane through the stickiness of her blood, but she continued to drag the bastard through Jasper’s home.
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