His words returned to her as she watched Willingham slide into his seat, taking up the reins.
I will take care of you from this moment forward, angel. I promise you.
I have a plan. Do you trust me?
She had. Lord help her, she had trusted Duncan Kirkwood once again without having one reason for doing so. But his promises seemed dreadfully far away by the light of day, with her unwanted betrothed at her side.
How could she free herself from this untenable mess? Moreover, how couldhe?
“You are looking well rested, my lady,” the earl said, an undercurrent she could not quite define sharpening his tone.
“Thank you,” she said.
In truth, she had scarcely slept, tossing and turning amidst thoughts of Duncan. His reappearance in her life had been unexpected. Incredible, wonderful, all she had wished for, but frightening just the same. He owned her heart, but he had betrayed her and turned his back on her before. What would stop him from doing so again?
“My lady?” the earl prompted, his tone piercing her musing with his vehemence. It was a jolt to her senses. Unwanted. Jarring.
“Forgive me, I was woolgathering.”
Anger creased his expression as he took up the reins and set them into motion. “From this moment forward, you will listen to me when I speak, my lady. As your husband, I demand both your attention and your obedience, along with your loyalty.”
She inhaled slowly. Herobedience.Marrying this man was insupportable. “I am not a child, my lord. You need not speak to me as if I am one.”
I will take care of you from this moment forward, angel.
She thought of Duncan’s words once more. But where was he? And why was she once again suffering the attentions of the earl? They were running out of time. In less than a fortnight, she would become the Countess of Willingham.
“Women are simple-minded as children,” he said coldly. “And when you are disobedient, you will be punished like one. Is there anything you wish to tell me, Lady Frederica?”
A cold tendril of fear unleashed itself within her. “What are you implying, my lord?”
“That I saw my betrothed in the company of another man at the Whitley ball last night.” His tone vibrated with anger. “Oddly enough, that same scurrilous mongrel has demanded I break our betrothal. You would not know anything of such distressing matters, would you?”
Dawning realization turned the fear to horror. They were not heading in the direction of the park. She had been too distracted by her thoughts to notice. Where did he intend to take her?
She had to be brazen to convince him to abandon whatever evil he had plotted. “I know nothing of anything you have just said, my lord,” she lied with a calm she did not feel. “If you wish to break our betrothal yourself, you need only say as much. It is not necessary to suggest someone has forced you to do it.”
“Do not lie,” he barked, slanting her a look so rife with fury it bordered on maniacal.
There was the face of the man who enjoyed inflicting pain. Who found pleasure in violence. Her mouth went dry, but she forced herself to continue their conversation. Perhaps if she could distract him…strike him over the head and take the reins…scream…leap from the curricle before they reached their destination…
“I-I am not lying, my lord,” she said. “Please, I beg of you, return me to my home. I am feeling unwell.”
“You will be begging soon, Lady Frederica,” he warned, his voice dark and menacing, sending a chill straight through her. “On your knees.”
Desperation made her act, attempting to scramble from her seat. Before she could manage to open the curricle door, however, a hand fisted in her hair, hauling her back in a tight hold so painful her hair felt as if it were being ripped from the root.
“You cannot escape,” he growled. “I saw the two of you leave the same chamber separately. Did you truly think no one would notice your absence? That no one would question where you had gone?”
He must have followed her at a discreet distance, hiding out of view. She had been so shaken in the aftermath of Duncan’s fierce passion that she would not have noticed the sun had it suddenly dropped at her feet.
“I was repairing a stain on my gown with the help of the Duchess of Whitley,” she insisted.
“Liar,” he charged, yanking on her hair. “You were allowing him to put his dirty, swindling peasant hands upon you, and I will make you pay for it. You belong to me. I will take great pleasure in knowing I have taken what he wants. I will so ill use you that he will never be capable of even looking upon you afterwards. You will be so thoroughly ruined your father will have no choice but to sanction our nuptials, and then you will spend the rest of your days regretting the night you played the whore for a worthless bastard like Kirkwood.”
“No,” she cried out, held captive by her hair as they drove down an alleyway, slipping into a part of town that was unfamiliar to her. “Please, my lord. You must release me. You cannot abuse the daughter of the Duke of Westlake and think to escape punishment.”
“Your father is so desperate to be rid of your unwanted burden that he all but begged me to marry you. When I tell him what I have done to you, he will have no choice but to ensure our wedding continues as planned.” His lips grazed her ear. “I will put a babe in you today, my lady.”
