The more she struggled against his grip, the tighter he held her arm.
Panic spiked. Her mind, which ordinarily served her reasonably well, now abandoned her entirely, producing only useless thoughts.
You absolute idiot. Why did you not bring a knife like a sensible person?
Then salvation struck her.
The fire poker.
Unfortunately, it remained several feet away.
As Boulton attempted to drag her into an embrace, Charlotte planted both hands against his chest.
‘Sir,’ she said desperately, ‘I would be delighted, truly, but I have duties to attend to or I shall lose my position.’
‘I will give you a position at my estate, my beauty,’ he declared with a slobbering grin.
Charlotte’s stomach dropped.
She was in trouble now. How on earth was she to get out of this?
Then, to her astonishment, he released her wrist.
Only to shut the door.
Charlotte moved instantly.
She darted forward, seized the fire poker, and whirled around.
‘Stand aside,’ she warned, brandishing it with both hands, ‘or so help me, I will skewer you.’
He gawped at her, looking distinctly unprepared for resistance.
‘Eh? Some new game, is it?’ His expression shifted into a slow, knowing smile. ‘I do not mind a bit of a challenge.’
He lunged.
Charlotte struck blindly downward and managed to bring the poker crashing onto his foot. He howled and staggered back.
She bolted for the door—
—but before she reached it, it swung open.
Lord Stanley stood upon the threshold.
Charlotte skidded to a halt.
His appearance was decidedly disordered. His cravat hung loose, his waistcoat wrinkled across his chest, and his hair was tousled. His eyes possessed the hazy gleam of a man several glasses past his limit.
He stepped forward, his eyes glinting with recognition, his lips pursing as though to say,What the devil are you doing here?
‘Boulton,’ he drawled lazily, fixing Charlotte with a thoroughly displeased look, ‘this one belongs to me.’
The words sent an entirely inappropriate thrill through her.
Lord Boulton clutched his injured foot and scowled. ‘I’ll warn you, Stanley. She’s a feisty one.’
Before she could protest, Lord Stanley plucked the poker neatly from her grasp and swept her up over his shoulder with infuriating ease.
