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Sofia tried to smile, but landed short of the mark. Alone at the table, she stared into her drink, watching the light reflect against its surface and searching for the courage that had somehow fallen away halfway to the village.

She pictured Christopher’s familiar face, alight with warmth and affection, and allowed herself a moment to imagine how good it would have felt to turn to him with this impossible problem. To let him help her. But the risk of him discovering her secret, the additional lies she would have to tell, wasn’t worth the relief that would have come from avoiding this moment. She shoved her chair back, rising before she could lose her nerve again.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I wonder if any of you have seen a man by the name of Oliver Lioni? He’s tall—over six feet—with broad shoulders and dark skin and hair.”

A few of the men ignored her entirely, but one looked up and acknowledged her with a grunt. Her hands were shaking, and she clasped them together to hide the tremor.

“Yeah, we knows him.”

“Bene. Good. I’m his sister, and I’ve been trailing him for weeks now from village to village, trying to find him. He’s been drunk more than sober. Lying. Stealing. He told someone in the next village over that he was the Baron of Waysworth and tried to swindle them out of their hard-earned coin. I’m absolutely livid, fed up with his behaviour.” She pushed as much starch into her voice as she could manage and was pleased with the result. “I need to find my wastrel of a brother and get him back home before he does any real damage. Luckily, so far none of the men have been gullible enough to believe his tales, but sooner or later some poor sod will actually swallow his stories.”

She was glad she didn’t have to fake her annoyance with Oliver. “Really, he should at least come up with a believable lie. One look at him and anyone with half a brain knows he is no peer.” She forced her expression into one of blatant incredulity and then congratulated herself on her performance.

The men at the table chuckled. “Aye. He’s as brown as dirt.”

For the first time in her life, Sofia found cause to be pleased at the ridiculous notion that the colour of one’s skin was a determining factor in his worth.

“Yes, well, have you seen him of late?”

“Aye. He came in and paid his debts a few days ago, but we ain’t seen him since.”

She nodded and tried to pin a look of disappointment on her face.

“If you see him, can you let him know that his sister is looking for him? For all the good it’ll do … he’s probably off to the next village by now.”

“Sure, miss. We’ll tell him. Now how’s about you come have a little rest on my knee here, little bird? Surely you need a break from chasing after your brother. Tiring work, that is, and you look as if you might change my luck at the tables.”

“Don’t hog her, Tom,” another of the men piped up, patting his own lap. “Come sit with Simms, love.”

“Another time, perhaps.” She gave him a tight-lipped smile, then dropped a coin on the table for their time and another on her table for the ale. She nodded to the barmaid and stepped into the blissfully fresh air.

She had done it. She was almost certain the men had believed her. Oliver would be angry at the danger she had put herself in, but it had been worth the risk. Any risk was worth it to keep both Oliver and Christopher in her life and to keep the Anson family safe and living as they always had. As they were meant to live. She would go back to her rooms and sleep for a few hours before the picnic, then find Oliver after and explain what she had done.

Her pace had slowed substantially at the behest of her sore feet and she was considering a short rest when the unmistakable sound of a snapping twig brought her about. She froze, scanning the path where it dipped down a gully and around a bend, her heart pounding. Nothing. Likely a deer. She listened for a moment more anyway, just to be sure.

But then there were more rustling leaves and Sofia’s brain screamed at her to run. She whirled around and took off, stumbling and switching direction to avoid one of the men from the tavern—Simms— as he stepped out to block her path. Another appeared. Then a third.

“There’s no point in running. Five of us, one of you.”

“I count four.”

“John’s a fat slob, but he’ll catch up.”

Sofia forced herself to take deep breaths, trying to slow her body’s frantic response, and planted her feet on the ground. It was as if all her thoughts had been flung into the air and scattered about her, too numerous to pick up. She couldn’t focus on anything except the fact that she was an idiot. She should have gone to Christopher. He wouldn’t have pressed for answers, he never had. He’d only ever offered his unconditional support, even when she was too cowardly or too proud to ask for it. Idiota.

“What do you want?” Her voice was surprisingly steady despite the shivering that wracked her insides.

“You left so fast we didn’t have time to tell you that we knows you’re a lying bitch. And I hates a lying bitch.” He spat on the ground and took a step closer. “See, we’ve been watching your brother up in that fancy mansion. We’ve seen you too. You ain’t been searching for him. So we figure if you’re lying about that, you’re likely lying about all the rest as well. We don’t know how a man like him could be a duke, but something’s not right, and we think he’ll probably pay a bucket of coin to get his pretty sister back. Course, there’s plenty of time to have fun with you while we wait. I promised Tom first go at you.”

The man to his left licked his lips. “Looks like you’ll be sitting on my lap after all, little bird.” He cupped and adjusted himself, then flashed a smile of greying teeth.

Fear had begun to solidify into rage and Sofia’s eyes landed on a tree branch a foot away. She lunged for it. None of the men tried to stop her, more amused than concerned.

“Oh, I hope she puts up a good fight. Nothing turns my dick to stone like a good tussle,” Tom said, leering.

His laugh turned to a groan as Sofia landed a solid jab between his legs and a second across his collarbone. Spinning, she felled another attacker with a resounding thwack to his knee, and Simms choked with a gurgle as her makeshift foil found purchase on his throat. When the last man reached for her, she dodged his clumsy grasp easily and struck him once in the stomach and a second time on the head.

Sofia dropped her stick and ran. The sounds of the forest drowned out beneath the rhythmic whooshing of her heart. She leapt over a fallen tree, then rolled onto her back, confused to find herself prone rather than still upright and dashing down the path. There had been a loud bang. And then she noticed it—an intense searing pain in her shoulder. She reached for the source of it, and warm, sticky blood coated her fingers.