Page 71
“I regret our second meeting is as unfortunate as the first, Miss Danforth,” Desmond said.
Bloody, bloody hell.
Desmond’s smug, oily purr slithered through the air, curling around Shelby like a hangman’s noose.
He bristled, fury and fear beating dual staccatos in his ears.
“Since I was unconscious the first time, this hardly counts as a second meeting,” Roxina snapped.
Shelby nearly smiled.
Her defiance never wavered.
“You are trespassing, sir.” Matilda’s voice rang out next, less sure but admirably steady. “I must ask you to leave at once before I send for the constable.”
Desmond chuckled, a slow, rasping sound that dripped with self-satisfaction.
That must have been how the serpent in the Garden of Eden sounded—confident, assured, vile, and cunning—every word laced with malicious intent.
“Never fear. I shall leave in short order.” His amusement vanished, his tone turning deadlier. “But not without Miss Danforth.”
Shelby edged closer, agitation winding through him like a drawn bowstring.
A single misstep could unravel everything.
His pulse thrummed through his veins, steady but charged.
He held little doubt that Desmond’s men waited nearby for their orders. Neither had he any doubt that lives lay in the balance.
In the stables, a horse whinnied and pawed the ground.
A wagon rumbled down the street, its driver singing a bawdy tune.
The familiar sounds ought to have been reassuring, yet they only heightened the threat, emphasizing how perilously this moment teetered between civility and bloodshed.
A gust of wind stirred the branches overhead, rustling the young spring leaves. The rhythmic creak of a horse-shaped weathervane turning lazily atop Fernleigh House added another layer of unease, each metallic groan echoing in the unnatural stillness.
“As there are five of us and only three of you, how do you propose to take Roxina?”
Was that Aubriella Matherfield?
Shelby hadn’t expected her presence.
Relief surged, but unease followed swiftly. Clever as she was, she and the others faced the same danger as Roxina.
At least Shelby knew how many men accompanied Desmond.
Desmond let out another slow evil chuckle, as if savoring the question.
“Ah, yes, well, as to that.” His voice dripped with smug amusement. “We are armed, and I seriously doubt you ladies have a pistol or a knife hidden in your skirts.”
A pregnant pause followed.
“Yes, but we can scream and cause a ruckus. People will come running.”
Georgine Thackerly too?
Shelby nearly smirked at her boldness, but this was no time for mirth.
