“Come on, you know you want to shred it,” Beth coaxed the pigs, waggling it before them. If they took it, then Mr. Valentine would not suspect her of stealing the book, as it could be anywhere.
One of the black ones grunted, then lunged at it. Another saw it as a game and did the same thing. The next minute, all four were running from the tent with the perfidious Mr. Valentine’s jacket in their snouts.
Tucking the book into her reticule, she bent and tore the hem of dress slightly before picking up her bonnet. She then took several steadying breaths. It was done; she would not have to speak with Mr. Valentine again. Beth placed her bonnet on her head and retied the ribbons and then left the tent.
Once, the most taxing decision she had to make in a day was what to wear. “How I wish for a return to those days,” she muttered.
“My pigs!” An elderly woman was looking about her, clearly searching for something.
“I believe they went that way.” Beth pointed in the direction the animals had taken.
“Blasted animals,” she muttered. “They are always escaping.” She stomped away.
Raising her face to the sun, Beth leaned against the side of a wagon briefly. Just a few minutes to collect herself and return her heartbeat to its normal rhythm. When she felt calmer, she went to find Mary.
Mr. Valentine met her before she reached her destination, striding toward her with a desperate look.
“My jacket! Where is it?”
She slapped him hard. His head snapped left. “I have no notion. But what I do know is that you are no gentleman, sir. You left me to face th-those ravenous beasts.” She sniffed. “Th-They tore my skirts!” She wailed then, loudly. He blanched. “And your a-actions, sir, were not those of a gentleman!”
“I-I—”
“There can be no possible excuse for your behavior. I wish never to see you again, Mr. Valentine!” She walked away. Looking over her shoulder, she watched him running back to the tent.
“Horrid beast.” Yes, she’d given the appearance of being interested in him, but that gave him absolutely no right to treat her as he had. She was glad she would never be subjected to another advance from him.
The weight of the book in her bag felt ridiculously heavy. More theft. More reasons for her one day to be locked in a rat-infested jail while awaiting hanging for her treasonous actions, right alongside her father.
Closing her eyes briefly, she prayed that would not happen. The feel of fingers clamping around her wrist had her eyes springing open. She turned to fire more insults at Mr. Valentine and came face-to-face with Nathan Deville.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Where have you been? I’ve looked everywhere for you.” Nathan instinctively pulled Beth closer. Her face was pale, eyes wide, and her lips looked red and swollen. Something had scared her, and to his eyes she looked like she’d been ravished. The thought slipped the leash on his temper.
“What did Valentine do to you?”
“N-Nothing. Release me, Mr. Deville. I need to find Mary.”
“Nathan,” he gritted out. “You always call me Nathan.”
Her lips trembled.
“Beth.” Her name was torn from him. Only she had ever been able to wrench this kind of emotion from him. “Talk to me.”
“Let me go. Why were you looking for me?”
“I found Miss Blake frantically searching for you. She said you’d gone off with Mr. Valentine alone.” His anger spiked again. “She asked me to help with her search!”
“Don’t roar at me.”
“I’ll bloody roar at you if you behave in a reckless manner, with little or no regard for your reputation.”
“I am no concern of yours.” Her chin rose. “My reputation is not your problem either.”
He pulled her closer. Lowering his head, he looked into her eyes.
“What game are you playing?”
