She jumped, her hand flying to her throat. Dear God, what in the world was that? It sounded as if someone had wrenched a door off its hinges. Perhaps one of the gentlemen inside had had a bad night at the tables, and?—
“Where is she? Where the devil did she go?”
She jerked to attention, perspiration beading her forehead. There was no mistaking that voice. It was him, the man from the beach, his deep voice distorted with fury, and there could be little doubt who he was looking for.
Dear God, he was really coming after her! But why? He hadn’t noticed her counting cards, had he? She’d drawn her relieved breaths too soon!
But no, it couldn’t be. He hadn’t been anywhere near her when?—
“The small lady in the long cloak, Thomas. Which way did she go? Hurry, man!”
“I—I beg your pardon, Mr. Hart. I never saw any lady.”
Mr. Hart.
Lottie slapped a hand over her mouth, a chill rushing over her. The man from the beach, the man with the dark hair and solid chest and long legs, the man who’d just chased her to the front door of Hart’s Ace like an avenging fury…
He was Armitage Hart!
Did fate have no shame? It was dreadfully unfair that such an awful gentleman as that was so mortifyingly handsome. Why, by all rights he should be sallow and pockmarked, the ravages of his black, shriveled heart reflected on his face.
“Not a lady, Thomas. I, ah…I misspoke. Not a lady, but a gentleman in a ridiculously tall hat. Did you see him?”
The man at the front door made some bumbling reply in response. She couldn’t make it out over the panicked roaring in her ears, but by some miracle of self-preservation, she did hear the pounding footsteps approaching, the dark shadow of a figure growing larger as he drew nearer, until it was positively monstrous.
Oh, what was she to do?
She cast a frantic glance around her, but she’d chosen the wrong alleyway to hide in. There was no way out at the far end, only a brick wall! Her only option was to go out the same way she’d come in, but if she took it…
If she took it, it would put her directly in Armitage Hart’s path. She may as well throw herself directly into his arms!
But there was no other way. He’d certainly find her if she remained here. She could stay and await her fate, or she could run, and pray for a miracle.
It was no choice at all.
She took to her heels like any other thief intent on escaping the gibbet and darted out of her hiding place.
Of course, he saw her at once, and he was after her like a shot.
“Stop! Someone, stop that lady! Er, I mean, stop that man!”
If any of the servants lingering at the door had had the least idea who he was talking about she wouldn’t have had a chance, but she managed to dart down the next alley, and…yes!
Thank goodness, it went through to the other side!
She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, heedless of which direction she took, so long as it was far away from Armitage Hart, but in her panic she somehow ended up at the top of the drive that led to Hart’s Ace.
From the pan right into the fire, dash it!
But it was too late now. There was nothing she could do but keep running and keep praying to a god who seemed to have long since abandoned her.
Down, down, down she went, past the endless line of elegant carriages still waiting in the drive, every one of them crowded with fashionable personages, all of whom witnessed her wild sprint.
Witnesses. There was no chance of an unobtrusive escape now.
That was the least of her worries, however, because instead of giving up the chase as any proper man of business would have done, Armitage Hart was still coming after her like an avenging fury, and she’d chosen the worst possible escape route she could have.
Good God, this was a nightmare.
