No matter how the story got told, Edwina would be a victim.Not the heroine who thwarted the monsters, but a foolish girl whose only visit to London had ended in utter disaster.
The only way to change that, was for her to alter the narrative.
Somehow, before she returned to her family, she would have to make a success of herself.If she could only find a way in which to prove her intelligence, she might be able to blot out this awful lapse in judgement completely.
She’d write to them and ensure them she was well, then forge a new path.
But how?
As tempting as the idea was, it seemed equally impossible to achieve.
The carriage rounded a corner and she recognized Soho Square.They were approaching Mayfair fast.She’d soon lose her chance.
Keeping silent, she scooted closer to the side of the carriage.Eyes on Murry, to ensure he paid no attention to her, she undid the latch on the door, then placed her hand on the door handle.He still didn’t blink and Edwina leaned forward, peering out the window while biding her time.
It took a couple of minutes, but then the carriage approached an intersection and proceeded to slow.She waited a moment, attempted to block out the near-painful beat of her heart, then pressed down the handle and flung the door open.
In one swift movement, she’d leapt from the seat.She stood in the opening, ready to jump.Her body moved forward.She pushed off her feet.And was yanked back with so much force it felt like her brain was turned inside out.
The door slammed shut and Edwina blinked.
She was no longer standing or sitting, per se, but awkwardly sprawled in Murry’s lap.
He peered down at her with brutal criticism in his dark gaze.“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
18
James stared at the woman he’d rescued while fighting the urge to shake her.
“Leaving,” she told him decisively.
He blinked, pulled her upright, and shoved her onto the vacant spot beside him.“What?”
“You asked me what I was doing, and I replied.”She crossed her arms and glared at him as thoughhewere the devil who’d made her available to the highest bidder.“But it seems as though I amyourcaptive now with no more freedom than what I had an hour ago.”
Fueled by anger, he rounded on her despite the crippling pain that traversed his torso.Caging her in, he planted one hand on either side of her head.“Do not dare to compare me with those who drugged you into compliance and who would have sold you into slavery.”
“Will you help me avoid going home?”The question was softly spoken, the desperation of her emotions reflected in her eyes.
James inhaled and was instantly assailed by the sweet perfume that clung to her skin.He stared at her through the darkness, at the faintly outlined features he’d seen more clearly in that awful room when he’d offered his hand.
Dark green eyes fringed by black lashes had stared toward him, so full of hope, fear, and doubt.Her hair, he recalled, shared the same hue as her brother’s, reminding James of coffee and decadent chocolate.His gaze dropped to her mouth for one fleeting second, but it was enough.There was no erasing the memory of what those soft lips looked like: full, delicately curved, and sharing the same deep hue as the roses that climbed the back of Croft House.
His gut tightened, and for a brief second, only temptation existed.
Until he realized she was trembling, her posture rigid, her head pressed as far back into the squabs as it could possibly go.
With a muttered curse, he withdrew.What in all that was holy had he been thinking?As if the poor woman had not been through enough, she also had to suffer his inappropriate behavior?
“Forgive me.”He slumped back into his corner.“I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
She was silent a moment, but when she spoke next, her voice was raw.“I will pay for this with my life.”
A shudder went through him.Was she thinking of killing herself?Or did she imagine her brother would kill her?Maybe she meant it metaphorically, in the sense that her life would be forever changed by what had happened?
The carriage rounded another corner, bringing them ever closer to Portman Square.James tried to dismiss her comment, to stomp it out of existence, but failed.
He needed clarification.“What are you saying, exactly?”
