His momentum tumbled him into the pool. She would not wait around for him to have another opportunity. Nor for the others who were hiding to come forth.
The path she’d only just been admiring for its beauty now became her roadway to safety. Why did the manor suddenly seem so much farther away?
Heavy footsteps pounded the ground behind her, pushing her to lengthen her stride. Likely one of Flavion’s witnesses. What would he do if he caught up with her? Take her back to Flavion? Take her for himself?
She hated this! She hated all of this so very much. She wanted to cry but knew that she needed the safety of others.
A stitch formed in her side. Such a man would not be stopped. She could go to her hosts, tell them of his actions, but she knew they would do nothing about it. They would blame her for walking alone in the garden.
Even if they believed her, even if they wanted to. Nobody would challenge an earl.
Likely, her own father would merely laugh at her plight. He’d probably placed bets of his own on her.
A sob tore from her at the thought. She’d never be safe. She’d never be afforded the protection of a respected lady.
She wanted to leave London tonight and never return.
She felt so alone. So very alone.
Not Again!
Justin would go to her today, this afternoon. He’d make his proposal. He tipped his hat to an elderly lady as he sauntered along the pavement.
Again. He’d propose again, but this time refuse to accept no for an answer. Over the past eight days, he’d done his best to leave her alone. He’d had to for his plan to work. He’d pour out his heart to her and then they’d head north.
It all sounded so much easier when he put it that way.
Pour out his heart.
He’d decided he’d do whatever it took. This morning, he’d relay his plan to Dev and then abscond with one of Prescott’s more well-sprung carriages. The journey to Gretna Green would require two long days of travel, after all.
This was what he ought to have done to begin with.
Mr. Evans opened the door and led him to Dev’s study.
Dev was not alone.
Mr. Nottingham and, surprisingly enough, Lord Blakely sat on two of the high-backed chairs around Dev’s desk.
A somber mood hung over the trio.
Mr. Nottingham, in particular, looked paler than normal with dark circles etched beneath his eyes.
“Come in, Justin.” Dev beckoned him. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard the news.”
As always, in circumstances such as these, Justin’s insides froze. Had something happened to Mrs. Nottingham? The child?
“Kensington is dead,” Blakely announced bluntly before Justin’s imagination could conjure up more horrific tragedies.
“Kensington?” Relief swept through him at the same time he realized the man had been Nottingham’s cousin. “My condolences,” he managed. The blighter had been sick in the head. Selfish, dangerous. But he’d also been someone’s kin.
Nottingham dipped his head.
Justin had spent hours upon hours praying with those who mourned. He hoped to God they didn’t expect this of him today.
“What happened?” Probably another duel. The rogue hadn’t much caution when it came to offending papas and brothers.
And likely, husbands.
