Twenty
Honora lay sprawledon the floor of the carriage, her feet and hands trussed unbearably tight, her dress smeared with filth and tears, staring up in disbelief at the Earl of Warwick as he completely ignored her, choosing instead to inspect his manicure as they drove to an unknown location in London.
It was beyond embarrassing really, that she found herself in this position.
One would think that she would have been a bit more cautious with her safety, considering the reason she was at Althorpe Hall in the first place.
But, Silas seemed to have the ability to drive every rational thought from her head.
Moments after their fight, as she was making her way back to the house alone, Honora had been hauled into the bushes, her mouth clamped shut by a dirty, rough palm and then carried kicking and squirming to a waiting conveyance.
She had been tossed into the unmarked carriage like a piece of baggage, and then her captor clambered up into the driver’s seat and whipped the horses away from Althorpe Hall.
Honora had only been able to stare out the window in despair, tears tracking down her cheeks to soak the cloth tied around her mouth as she was taken away from any hope of rescue.
The fact that she had not been fed or given water, with only one short stop to relieve herself, did not bode well, and Honora felt a terrible fear rise up that threatened to shatter her last shred of composure.
Silas.Silas.
Why had she run away? She could be in his arms, even now.
Blast her stupid pride.
Hours had gone by, and finally, she had succumbed to exhaustion and nerves, falling blessedly asleep until she was awakened by their arrival in town.
She immediately knew they were back in London, and she could only hope that, somehow, Benedict would find her before it was too late.
The carriage had idled in an unknown location for hours, Honora suffering heat and hunger until at last darkness fell and the door was flung open by the earl, who clambered inside without sparing her so much as a glance.
The rolling carriage jolted to a halt, and Warwick pulled back the curtain, signalling something to the man above.
Honora smelt the tang of salt in the air, with a tinge of sewerage.
The docks, perhaps?
Warwick briefly looked down at her with distaste, kicking her skirts away from the tips of his polished boots.
When he had stepped into the carriage after their arrival in London, Honora had almost expired of shock.
This manknewher. Had known her parents. His family estate was only a few miles from theirs.
But the way he looked had at her…well. There was nothing humane at all in his eyes.
Honora tried to speak past the gag, desperate to plead for mercy, but Warwick sniffed in disdain, refusing to look at her.
The door was pulled open and Honora caught a glimpse of two men making their way to the carriage. They were dressed roughly, a hard look about them that sent dread skittering along her nerves.
The first man doffed his cap to Warwick, shooting him a slimy grin. “Evening, my lord. Is this the parcel you would like me to take care of?”
Warwick flicked her a loaded look, his lip curling up. “Yes.”
He nodded to the other man, scowling. “And who is this?”
The ruffian hesitated, twisting his hat in his hands. “This is a friend. Always better to have a second set of hands in times like this, don’t you think?”
Warwick cocked his head, considering. “Very well, but if this gets back to me in any way, I will kill you both.”
It was not a threat, but a cold statement of fact, and the man blanched slightly under the grime that coated his skin, shuffling his feet with nerves.
