Emma froze as her stepmother’s words struck hard. Clearly her suitor believed that she would share his bed this night.
“I will not.” It took an effort not to raise her voice and instead feign a calmness she didn’t feel. “I participated in this farce for my father’s sake. But if you think I am going to go off with a stranger tonight and let him do as he pleases, you’re very much mistaken. I am not a lightskirt.”
“Miss Bartholomew,” came the voice of the gentleman. “May we talk for a moment?”
Though his voice sounded kind, something inside her snapped. She couldn’t bear to imagine going through with marriage to a stranger. It was well past midnight now, and all she wanted to do was find a corner, draw up her knees, and cry.
The gentleman waited for a moment, but she couldn’t quite determine whether he meant for her to follow him or not. It didn’t matter. She intended to stay right here.
“I do hope that you will consider this proposal. You see, I—”
“There is nothing to consider.” Her words came out cold. “You bought a painting, sir. Take it with you and go.”
He let out a slow breath. “That’s... not exactly what happened.” Before he could continue, two men came on either side of her and seized her arms.
“Where do you want her, sir?” one growled.
Emma struggled against the men, but they overpowered her easily. “Let me go!”
“My coach is just outside,” the gentleman said. “I am sorry for all this. I had hoped we could speak in private and discuss the matter.”
“There’s nothing to talk about, is there?” she shot back. The men were rough, and she fought to free herself. Panic washed over her at the thought of what would happen now. And worse, Lucy was doing nothing to stop it.
“We’ll take her to the coach for you,” the man said. Emma gasped when they dragged her toward the door. Before she could scream, the other man tied a handkerchief tightly around her mouth to prevent her from making a sound.
Dear God, this wasn’t a marriage proposal—it was an outright abduction. She struggled against the men as hard as she could, but her new suitor only opened the coach door while the men forced her inside. Her screams were muffled, and he joined her inside before the door slammed shut.
“I apologize, Miss Bartholomew. Believe me, this is not at all what I intended.” His voice held kindness, utterly at odds with his actions. “Be that as it may, I can promise that you won’t be harmed.”
Emma stopped struggling, for what good would it do anyway? It didn’t seem that her husband-to-be intended to rape her. But something was very odd.
“I’ve made all the preparations and sent word. At any moment now—”
The man never did seem to finish a sentence, for just then, the carriage door opened again.
“What in the name of the saints have you done?” a man’s voice demanded. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Hawkins.”
Was that Lord Dunmeath’s voice? Shock suffused her at the realization that he was here. Muddled thoughts blended as she wondered what was happening now.
“Well, sir, I didn’t think you wanted someone else to bid on her so I... bought her for you.”
Bought her? Emma blinked in the darkness. She could hardly believe what she was hearing. So—this man had bid on her on behalf of Lord Dunmeath? A rush of air filled up her lungs when she realized the earl hadn’t abandoned her after all. And yet... why hadn’t he come for her himself? She sagged back against the carriage seat, overwhelmed.
Lord Dunmeath gripped the man’s hand and said, “Thank God. Whatever I’m paying you, Hawkins, I’ll double it. Especially after what you’ve done. Now untie Miss Bartholomew. She looks like she’s been trussed up for Christmas dinner. That wasn’t necessary.”
“Very good, sir. It wasn’t my idea to keep her bound, but I fear she wasn’t being very cooperative.”
“I can’t imagine why,” Lord Dunmeath mused with a trace of irony. He slipped into the carriage and sat across from her. “Are you all right, Miss Bartholomew?” He reached back and unfastened the gag.
“You came.” Her words came out hoarse, and the tears welled up again. She didn’t know whether to be furious with him or grateful. Every emotion within her was strung so tightly, she felt as if the slightest word would crumble her into pieces.
“Hawkins is my secretary,” the earl explained. “It’s my fault that we didn’t know where the auction was. It’s grateful I am that he found the new invitation and bid on my behalf.” He reached back to untie her ropes.
Her skin was chafed and raw, but he was gentle as he loosened the ties. “Will you let me take you away from here? Or if you’d rather go back to Mrs. Harding’s school—”
She could only nod at first, wanting to be anywhere but here. And yet, she didn’t know what his intentions were, nor did she fully trust him. “I’d be grateful to go to the school.”
The other gentleman, Mr. Hawkins, added, “My lord, I took the liberty of putting your name on the marriage license beside hers. Are there any other preparations I should make?”
