To her mind, Graham looked rather different. His hair that was usually slicked back so neatly in a ponytail was not so neat today, and he was clearly angry, his gait striding forward with purpose and his fists clenched together.
“God’s wounds!” Hayward exclaimed loudly. Another string of curses followed but she did not pay attention, her mind too fixed on the fact that Graham was walking toward the office, about to discover her. “Is there a back door out of here?” Hayward asked the secretary.
“No,” he said hurriedly, “but there is a window.”
“And a back street?” the Marquess asked.
“Yes, it leads round to the road behind, adjoining this one,” the secretary answered.
“Lady Ridlington, you must come now,” Hayward said, reaching forward and taking her arm.
“Look,” she said, pointing out again. The thief she had been watching before stepped forward, engaging Graham in conversation. To her surprise, the thief didn’t seem to be trying to rob him. They just talked. “What is that about?”
“We do not have time to find out,” Hayward said, pulling on her arm a little more. She was towed away from the door, through the downstairs office and toward the back of the building.
She felt a little numb, not able to understand what had just taken place, so she just followed the others. The Marquess of Dodge found the window that had been discussed and slid it up. It was set high in the wall, meaning he himself had to clamber up to climb out. She expected Hayward to go next, but he didn’t. Instead, he took hold of her waist and turned her toward the window. The intimate touch woke her up from her numbness, making her look up to him in surprise.
“Any other time, I would comment on this too,” he said with a mischievous smile. “But we do not have time.” He lifted her up toward the window. It was enough of a push to allow her to scramble through the gap and jump down the other side. Had she been wearing her gown, it would have been incredibly difficult, but the breeches allowed the free movement of her legs.
As she landed beside the Marquess on the other side, they waited for Hayward to climb through too before they hurried off toward the street. Phoebe kept glancing back a few times toward the solicitor’s office, fearful that Graham would appear and follow her at any second. She was not allowed to dally though, for Hayward came back to her side, took her hand and dragged her forward. She clung tightly onto that hand as they rushed together through the back streets.
“Why is here?” the Marquess asked as they came out on a back road.
“It doesn’t make sense,” Phoebe said, shaking her head. “The secretary said they didn’t have a meeting with him.” The Marquess waved down the street, catching the eye of the coach driver who had been waiting at the junction to the next road. He pulled on the harnesses of the horses, urging them forward.
“He sent back the paperwork yesterday though, didn’t he?” Hayward asked, his tone angrier than she had ever heard it before. They were still holding hands, despite the fact they were now in an open street, and could be seen by strangers, two supposed men holding onto each other. She tried to disentangle her hand, but he didn’t let it happen.
“What’s your point?” the Marquess asked.
“He sent back the paperwork ripped up!” Hayward said in anger, waving his other free hand with animation. “He laid a threat at the solicitor’s door. He hasn’t gone with any kind of formality in mind. He is there intending to threaten Mr Preston, I do not doubt it. He’ll demand to know where Lady Ridlington is.”
“Speaking of which, let go of her hand before anybody else looks at you in the street,” the Marquess said, gesturing between the two of them. Hayward instantly released her hand, his expression suggesting that in his angry tirade, he had barely noticed. “Stay calm.”
“Calm? How can I be calm? If Mr Preston caves, he’ll tell where she is.”
“Mr Preston won’t do that,” the Marquess said with feeling. “He is a good man. I saw the fear in his face the day Lady Ridlington showed him that bruise around her neck. He will unequivocally deny knowing where she is.”
“God, I pray you are right,” Hayward said, running his hands through his hair.
The carriage pulled up at their side, and both Hayward and the Marquess urged her inside first. She sat on the far side of the carriage, leaning forward with her hands pressed into fists.
Hayward and the Marquess climbed in after her before the carriage set off. They were clearly still talking loudly, Hayward unable to settle his mind out of anger, whereas the Marquess of Dodge was pleading with him to be calm.
Phoebe couldn’t pay any attention to their conversation. She was startled by her body’s reaction to seeing Graham again. She had been numb at first, but now the fear was settling in. Her hands were trembling, with the fingers shaking as she tried to keep them clenched into fists. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and staring at the floor.
Having been away from Graham for a while, her heart had clung onto the hope that she might never have to see him again, might never have to fear being hurt by him again. Yet seeing him had brought back memories, thoughts that she didn’t want to see. She closed her eyes, revisiting the moment he had grabbed her around the throat and torn her dress into shreds.
She wasn’t aware she had made a sound until she felt the touch on her shoulder. She looked up a little, feeling Hayward holding onto her from where he sat opposite her.
“What is it?” he asked. She shook her head, unable to answer him. “Please. Tell me.” He begged of her, with his voice soft.
“I was thinking of when he…” she trailed off and lifted her hand to her throat, showing what she was thinking of. She saw Hayward’s face darken, the expression going from his previous anger to pure fury. “No, Your Grace. You cannot think of it too.”
“How can I not?” he asked, leaning forward. He reached toward her, then looked to the Marquess who was watching the two of them, second thinking his actions and letting his arms fall limp. “He will not get anywhere near you again. You can depend on that.”
“It is not within your power. It is not a promise you can make,” she said, hanging her head.
“Yes, it is.” The vow made her look up again, seeing the sincerity in his gaze. There was something there she hadn’t seen before. A sort of determination that was new.
