He glanced again at Charlotte’s mother, then said, “It is in the back. Will you come with me to inspect it?”
Charlotte wrinkled her brow in confusion. “Come in the back?” she repeated.
She didn’t think she’d gone into the back of a store before, not unless it was a dressmaker’s and she was to be measured there rather than in the comfort of her own home.
He nodded. “My engraving tools are there, you see. If you want to add anything beyond what you requested, it will be easier to do it there.”
She shrugged. “I suppose that makes sense. Mama, I am going to accompany Mr. Griffin to the back. I shouldn’t be but a moment.”
Her mother smiled up at her. “Very well, my dear. Take your time, I’m enjoying Mr. Griffin’s selection of books.”
Mr. Griffin tossed the duchess a tight smile and then motioned Charlotte toward the back of his store. She followed him through a small room in the back and down a dark, dusty hallway. She hesitated a fraction, for this entire endeavor seemed very…odd.
“Just a bit farther,” he said, smiling at her like he could read her anxiety. “Through this door.”
He motioned to a door on the far end of the hallway. She followed him as he opened it and led her into a small room. It was obviously a storeroom of some kind, dark and dingy, not the kind of place where it seemed one would do intricate engraving.
“What is this about?” Charlotte asked, edging back toward the door.
Mr. Griffin didn’t answer, but smiled at her nervously. Her heart leapt and she swung around to exit the room, but found the two of them were not alone. Standing at the door behind her, closing it and locking her in, was Josiah, Ewan’s brother. And he had an expression on his face that was exactly the same hate and animus she had seen him point toward Ewan. Now it was hers, and it was terrifying.
“What are you doing here?” she asked, hating how her voice cracked.
He ignored her and glared at Griffin. “Why is it just her? Where the hell is my brother?”
Griffin shrugged. “I assumed they would come together when I sent the message you asked for earlier. But it’s just her…and her mother.”
“Mama!” Charlotte screamed, rushing for the door.
Josiah rolled his eyes and grabbed her around the waist, dragging her backward into the room as he clamped a hand over her mouth. She struggled against him, but he was big—not as big as Ewan, but far bigger and stronger than she was.
“Shut your mouth,” he growled. “We’re far enough back in the shop that your mother isn’t going to hear you. So shut up.”
She glared at him over the hand over her mouth and he glared right back.
“This is a pickle, my lord,” Mr. Griffin said, worrying his hands. “What about the duchess?”
“This is all going to be complicated,” Josiah agreed. “I don’t need a dead duchess on my hands with everything else. But how to get rid of her?”
Charlotte began to struggle as his words sank in. Dead. Complicated. He was going to hurt her. He wanted to hurt Ewan.
And if she wasn’t careful, her mother too.
“I said stop!” Josiah growled, grabbing her hair and yanking until her head angled back painfully. “Or I’ll snap you in half right now.”
She stopped struggling as she stared up into his twisted, ugly countenance. She had no idea how he’d become this way. She didn’t want to know. She just wanted to live.
She took a few long breaths and said against his fingers, “I won’t shout.”
He glared at her as he lowered his hand. “You’d better not.”
“You don’t have to…hurt my mother,” she whispered, trying not to cry. She thought a man like this might like those tears. They might make him even more wild and driven to take what he wanted.
“Don’t make me,” Josiah said, his grip tightening on her arm painfully. “Now let me think.”
She swallowed and looked at Mr. Griffin. She knew there were daggers in her eyes. He saw them too, and shifted. “Is there a back entrance, you craven bastard?”
He flinched at her slur and Josiah actually laughed. “You have fire. No wonder the idiot likes you.”
