Page 21

Brow puckered, she brushed her fingertips back and forth over the soft wool of his coat.

The memories came swifter now.

She’d been in Montieth’s study.

Fear speared her.

He’d ordered that foul Englishman to take her with him.

Her throat tightened in renewed horror. Her breathing irregular, she clutched her neck.

Oh, God.

Montieth meant to force her into a marriage.

He’d said he’d violate her.

Another wave of sickness assailed her at the thought.

Then pain had exploded at the back of her head. Etherington must’ve struck her, the fiend.

She had no idea how she’d come to be in this coach with Camden. Suspicion she didn’t want to acknowledge, let alone entertain, lanced her, and she retreated deeper into the corner.

What if, God forbid, he was working with Etherington and Montieth?

Ludicrous.

But—was it?

Camden wasn’t supposed to be at the ball, and yet he had been. And he hadn’t told anyone he’d be there. He’d also seen her helping Branwen into the retiring room.

Why, exactly, had he been standing behind Montieth?

Waiting for an opportunity to speak with him, mayhap? To conspire against the Crown? But wouldn’t he then have also joined Montieth and Etherington in the study?

“Bethea?” Concern deepened Camden’s rich brogue and drew his midnight eyebrows into a severe vee. He reached out to touch her, but when she flinched away, he allowed his hand to fall into his lap.

“Lass?” he asked tentatively and soothingly, as one would an injured, frightened animal. “Are ye all right? Did…?” He cleared his throat, his expression becoming quite fierce. “Did Etherin’ton hurt ye?”

Hurt me?

Och, he means—

Her cheeks burned at his implication.

“He hit me in the back of the head, but that’s all.”

At least she thought it was. How, however, could she be certain?

Closing her eyes, Bethea inhaled even breaths and took a mental inventory. She didn’t hurt anywhere but her head—no sore muscles or bruises or aches in unmentionable places.

Montieth had been most avid that she was to remain untouched.

Nae, she was positive, Etherington hadn’t imposed himself upon her.

Nonetheless, she knitted her forehead in befuddlement as she opened her eyes and scrutinized Camden.

He hadn’t answered her question.