Chapter 26
“You will tell me where the Baron of Hawthorne is, or I will ensure the local magistrate hears about the types of business conducted on your premises.”
Juliana’s voice was soft, but it was never meant to be loud. She was rehearsing the words she would say when she encountered one of Kit’s… acquaintances. Still, her voice already sounded desperate, with nothing left to lose.
“No, maybe I should say, take me to Lord Hawthorne immediately, or you will be sorry!”
I am not sure this will work.
The Duchess stood in the damp, crusty hallway of a tavern. She shuddered at the thought of all the other places her brother had been. He had sent her to many narrow and dark alleys, where she could have been mugged or arrested.
Even the air seemed capable of attacking her. It was thick and pungent, clearly from the splashed cheap gin and rotting wood. She wanted to gag at the sudden change in the lavender scent in Stonevale. Even her Hawthorne home smelled several timesbetter.
How could Kit wander in such dilapidated, dangerous places?
Her heart pounded as she realized the full extent of the peril she had put herself in. When she left Stonevale, she was distraught. She had lost Cassian. She had not even known she had him until he walked away without looking back. Learning that Kit had disappeared not long after threw her into a spiral she did not think she could unravel. She felt lost and desperate.
“Where are you, Kit?” she whispered to herself.
She walked toward the back of the building, slowly and stealthily. The floorboards groaned beneath her. Holding her breath did nothing to ease the tension of the moment or the risk of getting caught.
As she walked down the hall, she heard murmurs. She followed the sound to a heavy oak door. She peered through the crack, where a sliver of light managed to escape. She did not know if it was the right thing to do, because the sight beyond the door made her world turn upside down.
Kit was inside.
That was what she wanted. She wanted to find her brother and save him from himself once again. At the moment, though, she wondered whether it was wise to do so. Her older brother was slumped in the middle of the dreary room. There were no windows to let in light, and the smell of damp was stronger there.
Kit was tied to a chair, his head drooping so she could not see his whole face. It was evident, though, that there were bruises on his cheeks. Even in the dim light, Juliana could see blood. Her handwent to her mouth as she tried to stifle her gasp.
Worse, he was not alone. A large, hulking man with a scar above his eyebrow stood before him. The man held a knife, its blade pointed at Kit.
“We are tired of waiting for all your promises, Hawthorne,” the man growled. “Pay us what you owe us or die. The Duke should have the gold. Isn’t that what you keep telling us? Better yet, we should not waste any more rope on you. We cannot have your blood spilling here, either. Perhaps we will tie you up by the marsh for high tide.”
Juliana swallowed a gasp. She knew her brother was in trouble. Cassian tried to convey the extent of the danger by emphasizing Kit’s involvement in criminal activity, but she would not believe it.
Now, Kit was facing death, and she had to do something about it. She had taken a pistol from Cassian’s collection, knowing she might have to fight someone. Anyone. Her fingers closed around the cold metal in the pocket of her skirt.
Her palms were sweaty. She trembled. Even though her mind told her she had to do something now, she could not. She remembered Cassian teaching her how to fire one, but she was not sure she could actually shoot a man. Whimpering, she pulled it from her pocket and pushed the door farther open. To her horror, it creaked.
“Who’s there?” the scarred man demanded, spinning around to face the door.
Two more men stepped from the shadows, making Juliana step back. Before she could retreat in haste, however, the scarred man kicked the door wide open, its edge almost striking her. Helunged into the hallway, his eyes as wide as hers as soon as he saw her.
“Well, well, well. Who is this, Hawthorne? Someone cares enough to come play the hero for you!” the man mocked. “How pathetic!”
He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her toward him. He smelled of sweat, gin, and dust. Then he twisted her wrist, letting the pistol clatter to the floor. Finally, he dragged her into the room and pushed her in front of her bound brother.
“Look, boys! We may get our money yet. It seems nobody likes Hawthorne, but what about this lovely chit?”
The other two men laughed heartily, their eyes scanning Juliana from head to toe. She tried her best not to show her fear. They should not see her limbs trembling at the thought of torture or worse.
Before she could even imagine the horrific possibilities, someone bellowed from the hall.
“Get your filthy hands off my wife!”
The door had already been abused by the leader of the thugs. This time, it splintered into pieces when Cassian stomped on it with his good leg. The Duke burst into the room, no limp in sight. He did not look like a crippled man at all, but more like a god of vengeance, there to collect.
For one suspended moment, across the wreckage of the door and the frozen faces of the thugs, they simply looked at one another.
