Her lips were almost blue, and her face whiter than a sheet.
Was she ill? Had she eaten something bad? Did she have a health condition the Rakes hadn’t bothered to tell him about?
“My…”
Leopold leaned closer to hear her words over the bumping of the carriage.
“What, Amelia? Tell me what’s wrong!” He was about to pound on the ceiling demanding to stop when she answered, so soft he barely understood.
“Corset.”
He couldn’t have been more flummoxed if she’d transformed into a fairy right before his eyes.
Her corset?
Her bloody corset?
Images of tight laces came to mind, down her back, of course, with her locked in that chamber…
Those shallow little breaths.
Her chin dropped back but her posture remained as rigid as it had been when he’d first laid eyes on her. He needed to act fast.
All too aware,finally, that this woman could hardly breathe, Leopold grasped her shoulders, turned her around, and without ceremony ripped open the back of her gown. Sure enough…Good God. A knot, meant to keep the garment from coming undone on its own, was cinched tightly.
Why the devil hadn’t she said something? Why the devil hadn’t he considered this?
Lady Amelia had not only been locked in his chamber, but bound in the trappings of her own ridiculous fashion. Leopold whisked his knife out of his boot and, mindful of the motion of the carriage, braced himself as he sliced through the strings like butter.
With each cut, the gap widened, gradually revealing the white cotton chemise worn underneath. It was wrinkled, pressed against her skin so tightly one could imagine a hot iron had made the creases.
Her poor skin…
Lady Amelia drew in a labored breath, raspy, but deeper this time.
And that posture he’d attributed to her rigid upbringing slumped. She had both hands pressed against the walls of the carriage, her forehead resting on the window.
“I’m sorry,” she rasped in a small voice.
What was she sorry for?
“Just breathe,” he encouraged, his own heart racing. “In and out, Princess.”
More air. Leopold lowered one of the windows, and then, reaching around her, lowered the other. Luck was on his side in that the road was damp from yesterday’s rain, and a cool breeze, rather than dust, blew inside. If he stopped to open the door, the men traveling outside would see them. She was only half dressed, and he’d already caused this woman enough undue humiliation.
Leopold could curse the frivolity of thetonfrom now until sundown, but ultimately, it was he who was responsible for her well-being.
For her safety.
The Rakes had thought he was the right person to carry out what should have been an easy enough mission. It seemed their faith had been placed in the wrong man.
His confidence from earlier deflated. He was as disgusted with the revelation as he was by his own stupidity.
Because there she sat, limp as a rag, barely able to keep upright, her back facing him as she clutched her bodice to her chest.
“Let me…” he wrapped his arm around her, gathering her close, lending support so she could rest.
And to prove just how much damage Leopold had inflicted upon her, she relaxed against him with no resistance at all.
