The newcomer’s eyes slid to me, measuring, unblinking. “Want me to deal with her?”
For a moment, no one spoke.
Still holding my curl, the masked man said, “Yes. But not in the usual manner. She must be treated…with care.”
Something cold and dreadful settled in my chest.
“And what does the usual manner mean?” I demanded. “Choking the life out of young women and tossing their bodies into the Thames?”
“One does what one must,” the man in the half mask replied mildly.
Knowing I would more than likely suffer the same fate, I reached for the pistol hidden in my cape pocket.
But he was faster.
His hand shot out and closed around my wrist, his grip iron. He twisted hard enough to wrench a cry from my throat. Pain flared up my arm, hot and immediate, and my knees nearly buckled. I bit it back, refusing to give him the satisfaction of more.
Calmly—almost absently—he relieved me of the pistol, as though disarming women were an everyday inconvenience for him.
“No, my dear,” he said gently. “That will not do.”
My pulse hammered at my throat. Every instinct screamed at me to run, to fight, to scratch his eyes out. But the space behind me was too small. The corridor was too narrow. And he—never mind his henchman—was standing in my way.
I forced myself still, though my breath came quick beneath the mask. “You’re the devil.”
His gaze softened, almost indulgent, as if I’d paid him a compliment.
“Such fire,” he murmured. “No wonder Steele is so enthralled with you.” His gloved finger brushed down my cheek, slow as a caress.
Revulsion turned my stomach. I held his eyes, even as every part of me recoiled.
“I will enjoy taming you.”
The words were quiet, spoken as certainty. As entitlement.
“I’d rather be dead.”
For the first time, something sharp flickered in his expression—interest, perhaps. Then he tilted his head.
“You should take care with your words, Lady Rosalynd. That can easily be arranged.”
His henchman’s voice broke in, urgent. “Master, you must go before . . .”
“The main festivities begin. Yes, I know.”
Suddenly, everything became crystal clear. “You are responsible for all of this. The debauchery. The assault on young innocent women.”
“Some are not so innocent.”
“You force them against their will. Commit unspeakable acts against them.”
“It is not I who’s forcing them.”
“The law will not make a distinction.”
“The law will never act.”
“Master,” Jenkins hissed again. ‘You must go. Now.”
