He was not a knight in shining armour and he certainly did not possess a horse. But the sight of Helmsley pushing the fairy against the hedge was displeasing enough that he shook his head at Villiers.
“You go on.”
Villiers shrugged and continued, more interested in the beauty by his side than Jacob’s noble-adjacent intentions.
The dark anger in Jacob, the one he usually released in the boxing ring, bubbled up inside him. Not for Annabelle—he didn’t care about her in particular. But Helmsley, with his wandering hands and greasy smile, was the kind of man it was Jacob’s pleasure to hate.
No, he was definitely not a knight.
But if there was one thing that went against his blackened, blood-stained moral code, it was to force oneself on an unwilling woman.
“Stop struggling,” Helmsley spat as he hauled her into a dark, quiet path, away from the lights and the crowds. No one stopped or gave them a second glance. Pickpockets weaved through the crowd, and the later the hour became, the rowdier Vauxhaul was likely to get.
“Letgoof me!” Annabelle’s voice was too quiet, deathly afraid.
“Hide from me, will you?” he sneered. “I know you were out in the garden that night.”
Annabelle shook her head, eyes wide, terrified. She locked eyes with Jacob and recognition flooded her gaze.Please, she mouthed.
“I had it all planned,” Helmsley said, roughly dragging her another few feet. “I spread the rumour that you were in the gardens with the Marquess of Sunderland. That should have ruined you nicely. And then I hear you’re engaged to him?”
Tears streamed down her face as she shook her head again.
“You were supposed to be engaged tome.”
Jacob stepped into the deserted path after them, letting the darkness cloak him. “Do you know,” he said conversationally, “I rather suspect she was trying to avoid you in those gardens after all.” Then he grabbed a handful of Helmsley’s coat, hauled him back, and planted his fist in Helmsley’s face.
* * *
Annabelle attempted to scream, but no sound came out. Her hair was half undone, falling from its pins, the soft weight of it brushing her neck. Her hands shook. She wanted to vomit.
Lord Helmsley was on the floor. The Marquess of Sunderland, his breath smelling of wine though his posture was perfectly steady, stood over him.
She was definitely going to vomit.
“A word of advice,” the Marquess said, his voice deadly soft. Lord Helmsley spat a tooth onto the grass. “Touch another lady without her express permission again, and I will put a bullet through your worthless heart. Do you understand me?”
Lord Helmsley swallowed, his expression half hidden in the darkness. But there was defiance mingled with the fear in his voice as he said, “You would not dare.”
“Wouldn’t I?” He leant forward, one foot coming to crush Lord Helmsley’s chest. Annabelle let out a squeak. “Do you think yours would be the first body I’ve left behind me? Do you think I have any qualms about squashing you like an ant?” He pressed and the air visibly left Lord Helmsley’s chest. “Believe me when I say you have no comprehension of what I’m capable of.”
Annabelle pressed her palms into her eyes. Seconds later, she heard Lord Helmsley climb to his feet and flee.
Then she was alone with the Marquess. Equal parts fear and relief flooded her. Fear because she believed every word he’d said—she had no comprehension of what he was capable of—and relief that at least he wasn’t Lord Helmsley, whose capabilities she fully comprehended.
Warm fingers wrapped around her wrists, drawing her hands down from her eyes. “Did he hurt you?” the Marquess asked flatly. She would have thought he hadn’t consumed any wine at all except for the smell of it on its breath and the dangerous glitter in his eyes.
“No, but I—”
“Good. Now pull yourself together.” He dropped her hands like she had burnt him.
She raised her gaze to his shadowed face. The urge to vomit was replaced by the urge to cry. They were trapped. If Helmsley had spread a rumour they were in the garden together, shehadto marry him or she truly would be ruined forever.
“This changes everything.” She pressed a hand to her eyes. “We can’t just end the engagement as though it never happened.”
“On the contrary.”
“But I will be ruined,” she said helplessly. “And I wouldn’t care so much for myself, but my family—they don’t deserve this. Theo is a duchess and my mother—myfather.”
