Oh, if she could only make it out of this scrape in one piece, she’d never tempt fate again!
The winding drive tilted crazily beneath her feet, unrolling into dark infinity. She ran like a wild thing, but every one of Hart’s strides was like two of hers, and he was rapidly gaining on her. Another moment, and he’d be close enough to catch a fold of her cloak.
Once he did it would be over, and her fate sealed.
There was no way she could outrun him, and there was no place to hide. He’d have her in his wicked clutches long before she could reach the end of the drive, and then it would be the magistrate, and a dark cramped cell, a trial, and then, inevitably…the gibbet.
What would become of Percy and Jenny then?
“Stop!” His voice was like a crack of thunder from the sky itself.
He wasn’t even winded! His long legs ate up the drive under his feet. In the next instant he’d have her. Her only recourse would be to throw herself on the mercy of a man who possessed none, and God help her then.
But just as despair threatened to overcome her, she saw it. A way out. It was terribly risky, but not as risky as the vengeance of a man like Armitage Hart.
Quickly, her heart pounding in her ears she dropped to her knees, curled into a tight ball and with a muttered prayer rolled underneath the nearest carriage. Her hip slammed into one of the rear wheels, and goodness, a wheel had never looked so large as it did when she was trapped underneath a carriage!
Hart shouted something, but it was lost to the roaring in her ears.
Somehow, she made it to the other side of the carriage mostly unscathed.
Hart was still chasing her, but she was on the other side of the row of carriages now, and there was no way a man of Armitage Hart’s size could roll underneath a carriage. He’d have to go around, and by the time he emerged on the other side she’d be gone.
Huzzah!
But this was no time to gloat. She made a mad sprint to the end of the drive and from there to Grand Junction Road but then paused, glancing wildly around her.
Which way? She could keep running north to King’s Road or attempt to lose herself among the few stragglers wandering the promenade on the other side of the Old Steine.
Oh, what should she do? Grand Junction Road was a well-lit straightaway, and he was sure to catch up to her there, despite her lead. It would be easier to lose herself in the Old Steine, but there weren’t many people around at this late hour, and if she went that way she’d have to circumvent a good portion of southeastern Brighton to reach North Laines from that direction.
Which one? Grand Junction Road, or The Steine?
Behind her, Hart was pounding down the drive. Soon enough he’d reach the last carriage in the line, and once he did, he’d be nearly on top of her, and she was already exhausted.
She had to decide, this very instant. There was no time to lose.
The beach! It was right there, and as dark as Hades. It was her best chance.
She scrambled down the staircase, and the minute her boot touched the sand she was off, the blessed darkness closing in around her, the sand muffling the sound of her frantic footsteps.
Had Hart seen her descend to the beach? If he had this was as good as over.
But if he hadn’t—if fate could see fit to give her just this one advantage—there was a chance she’d escape him.
Please, please, just let her have this one tiny piece of luck!
But alas, fate had no use for thieves, and her plea was destined to go unanswered.
A figure appeared at the top of the staircase, the dark outline of him stark against the midnight blue of the sky. He hesitated for an instant, but the man had the keen eyesight of a predator, because he spotted her at once.
They both sprang into motion.
She flew down the beach much as her parasol had done two days earlier, her footsteps pounding against the sand, but he was already after her, and God above, what a chase it was!
But before long she was flagging, her feet becoming heavier with every desperate step, yet he kept coming, and coming, the end as inevitable as the sunrise tomorrow morning.
Why was she still running? And for pity’s sake, why was a gentleman who made thousands every night so determined to get his twelve pounds back?
