She began a new set of tiny maneuvers, grabbing the edge of the ribbon and slowly pulling it, to rotate the knife sheath toward her waiting hands. Success! She almost cried out in relief. The feel off the blade in her hand, even still bound as she was, did wonders for her state of mind. She could do this. She would get free and fight her way to safety tooth and nail if she had to. But first she had to lie still for a moment. The ache in her temple did not respond well to prolonged feats of concentration.
After the shortest respite she could get away with, she began the tedious process of sawing through her wrist bonds. They were not tight enough to cut off circulation to her hands, which was a blessing, but the minimal tension made sawing through them with the smooth blade a tedious endeavor. She had to take many breaks, and she cut into her own skin repeatedly. The stinging wounds brought more tears to her eyes, but she blinked them away angrily. This was no time to be delicate, damn it.
The binding suddenly gave way, and she choked off a sound of pure joy. She was free! She sat up to untie the gag, and the dim interior spun wildly. It would be important that she not overestimate her capabilities with her equilibrium in such an unreliable state. She untied the gag and gingerly felt her temple where she had been struck. Pain like bright white light shot through her vision, and she resolved to never do that again. Changing her grip on the knife to one more suited for defense, she slowly scooted to the edge of the bench and looked out the window. She wanted to know what she was up against before she made herself known.
The street on the other side of the glass was empty. A few faint strains of music drifted toward her, and Hannah looked farther out. Maybe two hundred yards up a sloping incline, the warm glow of Thornton Manor blazed like a beacon. They hadn’t taken her anywhere. She knew where she was, and freedom was just up that hill. The tears of relief came in droves, and she brushed them away hurriedly, promising herself she would let them all out, once she was safe. Right now, she needed to prepare to run, and scream if need be.
Steady as she could make herself, Hannah shoved open the coach door and bolted for the hill. The force of her exit slammed it back around, and she heard the netting on her dress rip as it caught in the closing wood. She didn’t let herself think about it, or anything behind her, focusing all her willpower on those warm lights at the top of the hill. She heard a shout and immediately sacrificed her heeled slippers in an attempt to gain speed. It wasn’t enough. A rigid forearm locked around her waist, hauling her back.
“Where do ya think yer going?” a gruff cockney voice asked her, hot breath on her ear.
At this distance, she was too far from the manor to be heard over the noise of the ball, even if she screamed. With that option off the table, she drove the hand that held the knife down into the man’s thigh with every ounce of strength she possessed. Satisfaction flooded through her as his pained shout echoed around them and his hold dropped away. There was no telling how badly she had injured him. She just hoped she had slowed him down sufficiently to escape. She sprinted up the hill with everything she had left.
Pushing her way through the shrubbery at the edge of the property, heedless of scraping branches, the sobs she had held off rushed to the forefront as she saw a milling group of people, backs turned away from her in discussion. A new scream, a woman’s scream, tore through the night. Someone had seen her. Another woman fainted at the sight of her. Everything went blurry, made into splotches of color and light by the pooling tears. She made it. She was safe.
* * *
When Gavan heard the scream, his feet went into action before his mind. Please God, he begged wordlessly, but he couldn’t finish the thought. He shoved his way through the ballroom, deaf to the complaints in his wake. On the terrace, he saw a figure slumped on the ground, but the dress was pink. Not Hannah. As his mind caught up to his body, he realized everyone was staring toward the edge of the lawn. He followed their attention, and his heart stopped.
The woman standing in the grass was frightful. Her dress was torn and ravaged. Her skin had a thousand tiny little scrapes and lacerations. She had leaves in her hair, and one eye was squinting from the pressure of a giant knot forming up over her right temple. Both of her hands were bloody, and one was gripping the handle of small knife like it was anchoring her to the earth. Alive and in one piece.
He crossed the lawn, wrapping her shaking frame in his arms. He held her too tight, but she didn’t protest and he couldn’t make himself loosen his hold. The edge of his consciousness registered sounds of Ewan barking orders and people crowding around them, but he blocked them all out. All of his attention was focused on the rhythmic beating of Hannah’s perfect heart against his own. He felt a sniffle and Hannah’s head angling up to look at him.
“I stabbed a man.”
“Good.” He placed a kiss on her forehead and gestured for Magnus. “A man, wounded or dead, in the direction she came from.”
His multitalented majordomo immediately moved out of sight, taking the path Hannah had forged through the shrubbery.
“Was that your butler?”
“Yes.”
“Shouldn’t he be at your house?”
“Magnus is extremely talented at finding people,” he explained, dropping another gentle kiss on her brow, “and solving difficult problems.”
“Those seem like odd skills for a butler.”
“They are oddly versatile.” He had no problem spilling all of Magnus’s secrets to Hannah, but he would prefer to do it somewhere warm and secure, after a full inventory of her injuries and many certainties that she was, in fact, all right. Not wanting to spend any more time being ogled on the lawn, he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the study he had used during his discussion with John.
“Have someone bring the carriages around, and gather up Lady Hawthorne and her niece,” he told Ewan as he settled Hannah into a chair by the fire.
A laden maid entered as the Scot was leaving, bobbing curtsies as she made her way past. She set down a bowl and pitcher of water and pulled clean cloths and bandages from her apron.
“For her hands, my lord,” the girl said nervously to the floor. “I thought it might help if . . .”
“Yes, of course. Thank you.”
The girl bobbed another curtsy and fled the room. Gavan would have to find out who she was and compensate her properly for the kindness. In the meantime, he knelt in front of Hannah and gently pried the knife from her hand. He washed the blood from her palms and wrapped the cuts he found there. Then he carefully cleaned the blade and returned it to its sheath on her thigh. He owed a great debt to Betsy the maid; one he would never be able to repay.
Gavan continued to kneel in front of her after he had finished, watching her as she watched the fire. Magnus’s return jolted them both back to the present, and Gavan stood and stepped outside to gather the man’s report in the hallway where it wouldn’t upset Hannah any further.
“No body. The amount of blood suggests she struck him in an artery or similarly vital area.”
“Is there a trail you can follow?”
“It would help if I knew what to look for.”
Gavan looked at Hannah through the cracked doorway uneasily, but she made the decision for him. She stood up and nodded. They joined her in the study, Gavan hovering close to make sure Magnus did not scare her in his quest for information.
“I was in a coach, parked not far from where I stabbed him,” she said.
“What kind of coach?” the butler asked.
“A hack, I think. It smelled bad, and the seat leather was cracked.”
“What can you tell me about the man?”
“Not much. He grabbed me from behind. I . . .” She swallowed but kept going. “I stabbed him in the leg. His accent was cockney.”
Magnus nodded, committing the details to memory. “Were there any others? Is there anything you remember that might stan
d out?”
“I didn’t see anyone else.” She furrowed her brow, and then her face lit up in an “O.” “Did you find netting, with diamonds on it?”
“Diamonds? No.”
“My dress. The overlay caught in the door.” She pulled off one of her flimsy sleeves and handed it to him. “It looks like that.”
The smile that crept onto his butler’s face was what Gavan imagined it looked like when the Grim Reaper grinned. It was not hard to imagine the reason for it. A cheap hackney trailing a streamer of diamonds was bound to draw notice.
“There’s no guarantee that he didn’t pull it out of the door before fleeing,” Gavan offered skeptically.
“That is unlikely, given the severity of his wound. Even still, if he removed it, he kept it. That means he will most likely attempt to sell it.” The butler moved to leave the study, intent on renewing his pursuit, but stopped in the doorway. “You are a remarkable woman, Miss Howard. I will find the man responsible for this.”
After Magnus left, Hannah turned to Gavan, and he saw her surreal calm beginning to fracture.
“Gavan. Take me home.”
Yes, he would take her home.
Chapter 16
“Scotland?” Hannah repeated, unsure she had heard him right. The doctor Gavan had dragged out of bed had prescribed her a heavy dose of laudanum last night, and she was still partially in its grip this morning.
Gavan had insisted on staying, stretched out next to her with his arm around her waist, and she was glad of it. She’d never held proper concern for her reputation to begin with, and her grand terrace entrance last night had hammered the final nail into that coffin. There would be no quirky scandal sheet review this morning. The whispers of what happened at the Thornton masquerade ball would follow her for the rest of her life. Comparatively, someone commenting that the Earl of Rhone hadn’t been seen leaving his fiancée’s town house would hardly make a fuss, if it registered at all.
“Yes, Scotland. You’ll be safe there. Dalreochs are as interfering as they come. If anyone sets foot within thirty miles of Castle Rhone, the whole clan will know about it.”
“Your cousin said you haven’t been home in sixteen years.”
“I’ll make an exception.”
“Why?”
“It’s not safe here. Twice now you’ve been grabbed in places that should have been harmless.”
“But Magnus is on the man’s trail. He’s going to find him.”
Gavan sighed. “The coach, Hannah. Nobody kidnaps a woman and then just sits around. The man you stabbed was waiting for someone.”
A wave of fear shuddered through her. She hadn’t thought of that. So, whoever was after her was most likely a nobleman. Or woman. If the coachman had been hired, there was nothing to say his employer couldn’t have been a woman. Fear turned to anger as Hannah relived last night’s panic. How dare they? How dare anyone make her feel like this?
“They can’t get away with this.”
“They won’t. Magnus will track down everyone who had any part in it. Until then, I want you safe.” He pressed a kiss onto her shoulder, and his voice broke when he said, “You’re brave and strong and amazing, love, but I’m not. I can’t survive another night like last. I need you safe.”
Hannah closed her eyes and tried not to hear his heart in the words. She had come to value him beyond measure, but it was going to make it that much harder to leave him when the time came. It wasn’t time yet, though, and no matter how brave he thought she was, she didn’t think she could survive another night like last night, either.
“All right. We’ll go.”
* * *
Gavan’s thoughts drifted to Hannah’s carriage for the hundredth time. What were they doing in there? He had tried to secure Hannah in his own carriage, but he’d nearly gotten his head taken off by Betsy and the Bailey women. Surely their woman chatter could wait a few more days. Weeks. Gavan wasn’t ready to have her out of sight. What if something happened?
“I’m proud of ye, Gavan.”
“For God’s sake.” He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the squabs, attempting to block out the unwelcome sight of Ewan and Bennett across from him. He’d been awake all night and was in no mood today.
“I am! I’ll say so if I like.”
“Don’t you hate carriages?” Gavan asked. “Shouldn’t you be on a horse, outside?”
Ewan ignored him. “Castle Rhone is the safest place for her. I’m glad ye’ve the sense to see it. Sense isn’t usually yer strong suit.”
That certainly didn’t warrant a response, as it was blatantly untrue.
“I’ll be glad to be quit of this place,” his cousin said with a satisfied sigh. “It will be nice to be around proper folk.”
Gavan cracked an eye at that. “You mean cattle thieves and murderers.”
“Border reiving is part of our rich Scottish heritage,” Ewan responded with pride.
Gavan let his eye drop shut again. “I’ll take London’s loose women and inveterate gamblers, thank you very much.”
“Ye’ll see, cousin. It’s nae the same as when ye left. It’ll be different this time.”
“No, it won’t.” But as long as Hannah was safe, he would count it worthwhile. The torments of his childhood held no fear for him, compared to the thought of losing Hannah.
* * *
“Are you sure you’re comfortable, dear?”
Hannah was not comfortable. Nor was she all right, feeling “quite the thing,” or any of the other variations she had been asked since their journey began. Most immediately, her right temple felt like something was trying to smash its way out through the bone. Every bump in the road sent a bolt of nausea straight to the back of her throat.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“Would you like—?”
“No, Jane. Whatever it is, I do not want it. Please stop asking.”
Betsy’s disapproving stare cut her to the core, and awful regret joined the rest of the unpleasant emotions stewing within Hannah.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s quite all right,” Jane said quietly, looking at her lap.
“No, it’s not. It’s not all right. I’m not fine. My head hurts like the devil. I have no idea why I agreed to this ridiculous journey. I may or may not have killed a man last night, and I can’t decide if I should be upset about that or not. I think Rhone might actually be in love with me . . .”
The words came pouring out of her. Every ounce of confusion and fear she felt was given voice, laid bare in an apologetic purge. When it was done, she was left exhausted and empty, as if they had occupied real space within her body.
“Well, it’s about time,” Mathilda declared. “We were running out of ways to ask.”
Betsy handed her a cup. “It’s got a touch of the laudanum in it. Not enough to make you foggy, but it should take the edge off the headache.”
“Don’t you dare be upset for that man, dead or alive. What you did is the bravest thing I’ve ever heard of. I hope he did die, and good riddance to him!” Jane’s hand flew up to her mouth, shocked at her own outburst.
Their instant rush of support flowed over her, and it was exactly what she needed. Since the tea garden incident, Hannah had been spending all her time with Rhone. She hadn’t realized how much she missed her friends. “Thank you. All of you. I’m sorry I’ve been so distant.”
Mathilda reached forward and patted her hand. “Nonsense. You’ve gone through quite a bit in the past few days. You’ve been attacked twice, for god’s sake. It’s a miracle you’re still functioning.”
“His lordship doesn’t help, trying to bundle you up and stick you in his pocket. I swear, if he thought he could get away with dressing you, I’d be out of a job.”
Hannah grinned. She had no doubt Betsy wa
s right. Rhone had been claiming more and more of her time, even before she was in danger.
“Rhone’s one of those that needs a lot of attention,” Mathilda supplied thoughtfully. “My brother is the same way. If you spoil them, they get out of hand.”
“Father’s not that bad,” Jane defended.
Mathilda arched an eyebrow at her niece. “When was the last time you saw your mother get an hour to herself without him interrupting for one thing or another?”
“He values her opinion. I think it’s sweet.”
“He likes making sure she’s thinking about him, even when he’s not in the room,” Mathilda countered. “It can be a good thing, if managed properly, but a woman needs more in her life than just a husband.”
“You’re one to talk,” Jane scoffed. “You and Uncle Harry shut yourself away in the country and never saw anyone.”
“And from dinner to supper every day, Harold and I left each other completely alone and pursued our separate interests.”
“You’re lying.”
“I am not.”
“Why on earth would you do that?” Jane was astonished.
“Plenty of reasons, darling. To have something to talk about, to give ourselves a chance to miss each other, or sometimes because it’s just nice to be alone with your own thoughts.”
Jane considered that. “Father would have a stroke if mother sent him away for the whole day.”
“Probably. He’s quite spoiled, but I’d wager your mother would blossom like a summer flower.”
“How would you manage Rhone, then?” Hannah asked. “I enjoy his company, but I don’t want him consuming all my waking hours.”
“He’s been taking the sleeping ones lately, as well,” Betsy grumbled.
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