As the coachman left the carriage, the chill of the spring night slapped against her face like a wet cloth. She blinked rapidly, inhaling deeply. The pure cold summoned her back to herself as if, for the last hour or so, she’d been floating somewhere not quite attached to her body.
She’d never been the type for hysterics. However, as she looked down at herself and plucked the robe with two numb fingers, she was close to panic.
How on earth was she to get home? Where was her dress? Her shift? The rest of her clothes?
“I have a robe on,” she said.
“I put it on you.”
She didn’t even want tothinkabout that.
“If you’ll give me your address,” he said, “I’ll see you home.”
Panic clawed its way up her throat.
She raised the shade with her fingertip, just enough to see the milky whiteness of fog. Nothing but damp, clinging fog.
“Where are we?” she asked. “What time is it?”
Folding her arms over her chest didn’t make her feel more clothed, especially when she suspected that this man, the stranger opposite her, had seen her naked.
Once she was alone in her bedroom, she’d allow herself to feel the burn of shame. Till then, she simply had to remain as calm as possible. She must extricate herself from this deplorable situation.
“Past midnight, and in the square outside my house,” he said. “I thought it expeditious to leave the Society as soon as possible.” He hesitated for a moment. “Do you remember any of it?”
Some, but she wasn’t about to admit it to him. Another thing to contemplate once she was inside her room.
“I don’t feel well,” she said, a salty taste bathing the back of her throat. She closed her eyes, fighting against becoming sick.
“Did anyone make you eat or drink anything tonight?”
She opened her eyes. “I had a cup of something warm when I arrived. It tasted like grapes, but it wasn’t wine.”
“It was probably drugged.”
She’d been a fool to take it, but she’d been so grateful to the Mercaii for allowing her to attend that she hadn’t wanted to be rude.
“How long have we been here?” she asked.
“A little over an hour.”
He folded his arms across his chest and stared at her coldly. “I’ve been waiting for you to surface from whatever they gave you.”
“I shall not trouble you any further,” she said, reaching for the door handle.
He leaned forward and put his hand over hers.
“I’m not about to let you leave after I’ve rescued you from harm. Where do you live?”
“I didn’t ask you to rescue me,” she said, pulling her hand free.
“No doubt you would have preferred to be raped in front of thirty men,” he said, his voice deceptively mild.
She glanced at him, horrified by his comment. Was that what they’d planned for her?
“Thank you,” she said faintly, feeling nauseous. “Thank you for rescuing me, but you needn’t do more.”
“Where do you live?” he asked, his tone bordering on exasperation.
