She glared at him, and then tried to shake free, but he held her in place.
“I will hold you here all night if I must. Someone will come along and find us—”
“All right,” she snapped. “I saw someone I thought I recognized. A man from Bidham, and he was walking this way, so I followed.”
The anger flared inside him again, thankfully forcing down the lust he’d felt kissing Liberty. He didn’t kiss innocents. “I thought you were an intelligent woman.”
She tried to pull free again.
“Who did you see?”
“Sydney, Helen’s brother. He went into those trees.” She pointed over her shoulder. “I followed. He met a man, because another voice said, ‘You’re late.’”
“Liberty, this is not a game,” Toby said as several scenarios of what could have happened to her played out inside his head.
“I stood on a branch and it made a noise. The men went quiet, so I ran,” she then added.
Toby tugged her closer until their faces were inches apart. “You will not take any more risks, Liberty. This, walking here alone was foolish. One of those men could have grabbed you.”
“Sydney would—”
“He is doing what someone else tells him to,” Toby gritted out. “He is likely as terrified as you right now. This is no game for a silly young lady to play.”
Her chin raised again, and he raked his eyes over her features.
“Don’t treat me like a fool, Lord Corbyn.”
So beautiful, Toby thought. So fiery and determined. He’d never wanted a woman more than in that moment.
“Then don’t act like one, Lady Liberty. Never walk here alone again, or I will tell your father.”
She wrenched free, and he let her, and then she stumbled a few steps. He reached out to steady her, but she staggered back.
“Don’t pretend I mean anything to you,” she spat out. “Never touch me again. I’m not one of your paramours, and I never want to be.” She turned from him and hurried away.
Toby followed, walking a few paces behind her until she reached a more frequented path. He doubled back to check for anyone lurking in the bushes when she was surrounded by people. He saw no signs of anyone.
Someone could have grabbed her, and no one would have known. The thought terrified him.
Toby found his friends seated in a booth, eating and drinking. With them were Lord and Lady Brighton, and their three daughters. Toby glared at Anthony and Evie. One of the Brightons was on the aunts’ list of prospective brides.
Looking around, he couldn’t see the elderly women anywhere.
“My aunts could not make it today,” Anthony said, as if reading his mind. “You sit there, my friend,” he added, waving Toby to the seat next to the eldest Brighton, Angela, who was supposedly someone who would make him an excellent wife.
“Good evening, my lord.”
“Miss Brighton,” he said, taking the seat and managing not to glare at his friends. Jamie sat beside Lord Brighton, happily conversing about horses.
Toby looked for Liberty and found her with her mother and father in the booth beside theirs. At her side was Mr. Williams, and the way he was angling his body toward Liberty had a lance of jealousy spikingthrough him.
“Are you well, Lord Corbyn?”
“Pardon?” The word came out with a definite snap to it because Miss Brighton’s eyes widened. He forced a smile onto his lips.
“You made a noise,” she said.
“Sorry, just clearing my throat,” he added with forced politeness. His eyes went back to Liberty. She looked miserable. He amended that to sad and hated he’d played a part in her current mood.
