Constantine put his knife in Elara’s hand and his derringer in the other.
“Stay behind me,” he commanded as Elara stared down wide-eyed at the weapons. “But if we fall, aim for their head, and run. Elara, do you understand? Do not try to help us.Run.”
Constantine’s heart split in two as Elara looked up at him with wide, terror-filled eyes, her complexion now more pallid than the driver’s had been. Then her brows furrowed as her determination took over, and she gave him a stiff, single nod.
He spared another moment, leaning in to brush a kiss against her lips.
“I love you,” he whispered.
They moved, and Constantine did his best to lead them away from the heavy, numerous footsteps echoing through the ship. No matter where he turned, though, they seemed to come from everywhere, reducing their chances of escape. As they stepped into the next patch of lamp light, Constantine caught sight of adoor hanging open, and without hesitation, ran into the room.
What he saw made him freeze, and as he heard Elara’s horror-filled gasp, he knew she had been shocked into stillness as well. It was a holding cell. Very much like Evander’s, only bigger. Dozens of iron loops had been hammered into a wall, each holding a pair of shackles. Like Evander’s cell, it too had a horrid stench.
“This is where he kept them,” Constantine whispered, slowly peering around the awful room in horror.
Even though it was empty, Constantine’s mind conjured what it had looked like only an hour ago. Women, shackled, dirty, and no doubt scared out of their wits. Had they known that they had been sold into slavery? Or had they not known what was to await them on London’s shore? Constantine could not decide which would be more horrific.
“Do not move!” A deep voice bellowed behind Constantine.
His exhausted body trembled when he heard the click of several guns nearby, and without looking, Constantine knew they had run out of time.
“Do not hurt her,” Constantine pleaded, obeying the man’s order. “Please, you do whatever you wish to me, but let this woman and man go.”
“Stop. Stop!” a familiar voice bellowed. “That is His Grace, the Duke of Ashworth, and the man that sent for you!”
Constantine did not realize he had been holding his breath until he let out a groan of laughter and turned around. There, facing him and Elara, were not Augustus’s men, but Constantine’s carriage driver and a group of constables.
Chapter 29
Three Days Later
“He is alive,” Adrian whispered.
Elara gave him a sympathetic look as she sat on the side of Evander’s bed, holding his hand as he slept. It had been three days since she had brought him home, and Adrian had muttered the same statement about a thousand times already. Not that she blamed him. Even she was having trouble accepting that Evander was back from the dead.
It was why she rarely left his side. She needed constant confirmation that her oldest brother was home. The rightful Duke of Redgrave was back.
“I told you,” their mother chided, sitting on the opposite side of Evander’s bed, working on her latest piece of embroidery. Like Elara, she had not ventured from the spot often. “I told you I could still feel him. A mother knows, and my Evander is a really strong man.”
Adrian’s piercing blue eyes shifted to Elara’s, and her heart hurt for her brother as she saw so clearly his self-hatred within them.
“I should have been more like you, Elara,” Adrian croaked, stressfully rubbing the back of his neck. “I should have never given up. Never accepted the lies that were told.”
“Do not do this to yourself, Adrian,” Elara urged, snatching Adrian’s hand with her free one, joining all three siblings together. “You did everything you could.”
“She is right,” Evander’s hoarse, deep voice answered.
All three of them immediately looked at him, and even though he was now clean and bandaged, Elara’s heart still ached from what she saw. His black eyes, scarred cheeks, broken nose, and split lips were healing, as was the rope burn around his neck. His ribs—some broken, some bruised—would take longer to heal, the physician had said, and his mangled knee might never fully recover, but he was alive.
He had not spoken to them yet of the torture he had endured and how he had tried to escape. He never might. Still, Elara hoped that one day her oldest brother would open up to them or to someone he could trust. She could not imagine a person being able to bear such awful memories alone.
“How are you feeling?” Elara asked, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.
“As if I have been tortured for nigh on two years,” Evander rasped. Then he licked his healing lips and added, “And quite parched.”
Elara, Nora, and Adrian all let out a weak laugh as Nora quickly brought a glass of water to Evander’s lips and helped him drink.
“Adrian,” Evander said after he finished, his bruised eyes focusing on Adrian. “I do not want what happened to me toweigh on you. You looked for me for a long time. Even after others swore to you they had seen me die. You could have given up, but you did not.”
