by Dawn Brower
Windham studied her from his place near the window a slight curve to his plump lips and something dark in his gaze. “I have longed to posses you from the moment I first laid eyes on you, Miss Emma. You will be the jewel in my barony.”
Uncle Silas took firm hold of her upper arm, leaning in so close she could smell the liquor on his breath. “You owe me for all the years I have cared for you.”
“I never asked for your care. Father sold me to you.” She fought back her rising tears. “I owe you nothing.”
Windham approached, placing his hand on her shoulder, he whispered in her ear, “Once we are wed, I will see you tamed, pet.”
She glared at him, “Never. I will never marry you.”
He ran his hand down her back to her buttocks, squeezed, then strolled to the door before turning back to her Uncle. “See that she complies, Baxter. I expect to be wed in three weeks time or it will be debtor’s prison for you. I will have a betrothal contract outlining the wedding plans sent over for your signature.” Windham tossed her a lecherous smile before taking his leave.
“I will never marry you. No one can force me,” Emma yelled at his retreating back.
Her head snapped to the side as her uncle’s open hand smacked into her cheek. She placed her own hand over the stinging flesh. Her resolve strengthened and she held her head high in challenge. “You can do whatever you please, Uncle. But know this. I would embrace death before a marriage to Lord Windham.”
“You always were a foolish chit.” He pulled her from the office then pushed her toward the stairs. “You will remain locked in your room with nothing more than a meal a day to sustain you until you see reason and accept Windham.”
She started up the stairs, her chin notched defiantly. “You might as well refrain from sending food. I will not eat a bite.”
“You only harm yourself. You will be wed to the baron with or without your consent.”
His heavy footfalls behind her urged her to walk faster as she made haste for the sanctuary of her chamber. She knew not how she would get out of this marriage, but there was no way she could comply. She’d think of something—someway, somehow, she had to escape the baron’s clutches.
Chapter 1
Three weeks later,
English countryside
Emma stared out the carriage window, refusing to acknowledge Lord Windham or her uncle Silas. She had to escape before they reached Windham’s Hampshire estate, but how? And more importantly, where would she go? Today marked their third day of travel since leaving London. By nightfall, they would reach Windham’s. A shiver trickled down her spine. She simply could not abide the baron.
She glanced at the two men, sitting across from her grateful that neither seemed to be paying her any mind. Her skin crawled when she looked at Windham. There was no way she could ever allow herself to be wed to him. Escaping had to be her top priority whether or not she had somewhere to go. And how could Uncle Silas do this to her? His own flesh and blood!
Perhaps she should have runaway the first time they’d stopped for the night. She’d had the opportunity as Uncle Silas and Lord Windham had left her alone in a coaching inn room while they went off to drink. Neither man returned until the early morning hours. Alas, fear had frozen her—not today, for great change required courage and she was very much in need of a change.
She swallowed hard. “Uncle Silas?”
“Yes.” He tipped his head up to meet her gaze.
Emma gave a practiced smile. “I am suddenly quite famished. When might we stop?”
Uncle Silas turned to Lord Windham. “It is nearing luncheon. What say you?”
Emma fought the urge to avert her gaze as Lord Windham turned his cool brown eyes on her. “I am pleased you have finally decided to be reasonable, my dear.”
A smart retort caught in the back of her throat, schooling herself, she held it back. She wished to tell him that her request had nothing to do with being reasonable, or that starvation did that to a person, but it would not do to give rise to suspicion. Instead, she simply said, “I have.”
“Very well. We shall stop at the next coaching inn,” Lord Windham said, then knocked on the window with his cane.
The coachman slid the glass pain open. “Yes, my lord?”
“Stop at the next coaching inn. While we eat, I wish for you to change out the horses.”
“’Tis one just down the road. Won’t be but a few minutes.”
Lord Windham uncrossed his short, beefy legs. “Very well, make haste.” He turned his lecherous eyes on Emma. “My pet requires sustenance.”
She shivered with revulsion as she ran her finger over the design carved in the molding of Windham’s coach.
The coachman closed the window and Emma felt the carriage gain speed. She settled back against the plush seat, her heart pounding. Pray, let her manage to get away, and grant her strength to tolerate Lord Windham until the chance to run presents itself.
Before long, the carriage swayed as they turned into a drive, then lurched to stop in front of an inn. Emma braced herself with her hands to keep from tumbling from her leather and velvet seat.
“I will assist you out of the coach, my pet.” Lord Windham winked.
A forced grin tugged at her lips. “Thank you.”
The footman placed the step before opening the carriage door. Emma did her best to appear relaxed as the men departed the coach. She inhaled a deep breath then let it out slow before moving to the carriage door and accepting Lord Windham’s arm. Disgust swept through her when he placed his hand over her gloved one where it rested uneasily at his elbow.
Everything within her cried out for her to remove her hand from him. Her stomach churned and bile rose in her throat, but she fought past the uneasiness and forced herself to play the part. As they made their way up to the entrance, through the receiving area, and into the dining room, Emma continually scanned her surroundings looking for both an escape route and somewhere to hide.
There were several shadowed nooks and large drapery covered windows a person could conceal themselves in. More than a few large pieces of furniture one could hide beneath, and countless doors leading away from the common areas she could dart through.
But, the exterior of the inn seemed to offer the best avenues for escape. A thick copse of trees surrounded the building that she could most certainly get lost in, or she could find sanctuary in the stables concealed under a haystack or stashed away in the loft. Furthermore, she’d noticed several horses as well as carriages about that she could use to get away.
Emma turned the possibilities over in her mind as Lord Windham led her through the dining room to a small round table.
He ran his meaty hand down her back, leaning in close. “You will be rewarded for your change of attitude.” His breath fanned her ear making her cringe, but at least he refrained from fondling her on this occasion.
Emma nodded, wishing for nothing more than to take her seat. She exhaled a breath she’d been holding as she accepted the chair he pulled out for her. Her skin revolted at Lord Windham’s touch. She doubted there was enough hot water in all of England to make her feel clean again.
“Good day.” An older woman, her grey hair pulled into a tight knot at the base of her neck approached their table. “What can I fetch for ye?”
Uncle Silas looked to Lord Windham and Emma’s heart hitched. She could not help but feel sorry for her uncle. Though his financial straits were of his own creation, she understood how it pained him to be at the barons’ mercy.
If only he’d not been so foolish. She sighed, averting her gaze. As much as she would like to save her uncle, she could not, for she’d not sacrifice her own wellbeing.
“A couple of pints of your finest ale and tea for the lady. Bring some beef stew, bread, and butter as well,” Lord Windham ordered. “Do you desire anything else, my pet? Perhaps a sweet treat?”
Emma forced herself to meet his gaze. “No, what you have ordered is more than sufficient, my lord.”
He turned his attention back to the serving woman. “That will be all.”
“Right away, Me Lord.” The woman turned and bustled away.
Lord Windham slid his chair closer to Emma’s, reaching out to rest his hand on her thigh.
She could not fight the urge to react, jumping at the invasion before settling herself. Even through her skirts, her skin crawled at his touch. She swallowed hard, focusing on her plan.
“We are to be wed by this time on the marrow. Let us do away with formalities. Please address me as Leviticus.” Lord Windham patted her thigh.
Had anyone in the crush of guests noticed the familiarities he was taking? Emma closed her eyes, reminding herself that she had to play along. “As you wish, Le…Leviticus.” The name soured on her tongue. “Might I be excused for a moment?”
“Indeed, but do not tarry for I want you to eat while your meal is still hot.” Lord Windham smiled. “You will need your energy on the marrow.” He squeezed her thigh before removing his disgusting hand from her.
Emma forced a painful grin before rising from her chair. It took all she possessed to get up in a graceful manner rather than bolting from the seat as she wished to. With her attention trained on the exit, she made her way across the crowded dining room.
Reaching the door, she stepped through, then gave into the urge to glance over her shoulder. Lord Windham stared at her from across the room.
She gave a quick grin then turned into the hall as if she were going to use the privy. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she circled back and walked with hurried steps toward the main exit.
The bright noonday sun caused her to squint as she stepped into the drive. With a cursory glance around, she decided to make her way to the stables. She would stash herself away there until she decided what to do next. Ignoring her pounding heart, she continued toward the building.
Emma drew to a stop outside of the stable entrance. Several voices drifted out from within the large wooden building. Drat! She should have suspected there would be people within. It would be impossible for her to sneak past them without detection and being seen would not do. Surely, someone would give her away the moment Lord Windham and Uncle Silas came looking.
Her eyes lit on a nearby traveling coach pulled by four matching gray horses and tethered to a hitching post. Emma could not guess whether the carriage was preparing to come or go, nor did she know if anyone occupied it, though she meant to find out. She nibbled her lower lip, moving closer to the conveyance.
Emma looked around once more, not at all sure what she should do. Maybe taking her chances in the woods would serve her best, though she was quite certain she’d be safer in the carriage boot. One thing was certain, she could not stand her all day or she’d not get away from Lord Windham at all.
She stepped crept up to the back of the coach and lifted the boot open in preparation to climb inside. Her heart sank, the compartment held far too much luggage for her to fit within. She lowered the lid back into place, her pulse hammering. What was she to do now?
Panic filled her at the sound of Uncle Silas’s voice. “Emma. Emma, where are you?”
Without thought, she gathered her skirts in her hands and moved to open the carriage door before tumbling inside. She scrambled to pull the door closed before drawing in a deep breath, her hand on her chest, covering her racing heart.
Thank God the coach was unoccupied, but for how long? Could she grovel for mercy from the coaches’ owner? Seated on the carriage floor, she leaned against the bench seat and pulled her knees to her chest. Escaping seemed impossible, perhaps she should accept her fate and return to Uncle Silas and Lord Windham.
The very idea sent a wave of sickness through her. No, she’d not give up—could not give in. Emma pushed herself up, glancing behind her as her skirt caught on the bench. A smile spread across her face when she saw the seat lifting behind her. Thank Heaven.
She took hold of the seat with one hand as she turned, then lifted it to peer inside. A large compartment greeted her curious eyes with only a small box and folded blanket inside. Without a second thought, Emma climbed into its depth and lowered the bench seat to conceal herself.
She knew not where the coach would be traveling, nor when it would depart, but at least for now, she was safe.
Chapter 2
Aaron St John, Duke of Radcliff, pulled back the curtain to look out the carriage window. He had been traveling for nearly ten hours stopping only to tend to his horses and stretch his legs. Even now he itched to depart from the carriage, but would not make a stop so close to home. He wished to arrive in time to enjoy super with his daughter Sophia.
He’d never spent more than a night away from Sophia since her mother ran off. After a sennight away, he missed her fiercely. Her smiling cherub face entered his mind and he grinned reaching for the opposite bench. A golden haired doll, the same shade as Sophia’s, had caught his eye in a London shop. On impulse Aaron strolled in and purchased it for her.
He lifted the top of the bench to retrieve the doll, his breath hitching. “Bloody hell.”
He peered into the compartment; a wide eyed woman stared back at him, her hair the same golden shade he’d just been imagining. It was as if the doll had come to life in the shape of a breathing woman. “Who the devil are you? How did you get here?”
She sat up, her cheeks tinting scarlet. “I…I do not know where to start.”
Recovering slightly, Aaron reached out a hand. “Start by getting out of there.”
She nodded, accepting his offer. Heat passed between their ungloved hands, warming his palm. Aaron pulled her to stand, then assisted her to step from the compartment. As soon as she was free of the compartment, he dropped her hand, turned, and closed the bench—Sophia’s doll all but forgotten. He turned back to the mysterious woman. “Do sit and explain yourself at once.”
She lowered herself onto the plush seat, folding her hands in her lap as Aaron retook his own seat across from her.
“Please accept my apology for startling you.” She smoothed her skirts. “It was not my intent. You see, you were not supposed to discover me.”
“Fascinating, do go on.”
“I am Miss Emma Baxter.” She looked away for a brief moment.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance Miss Baxter. You may address me as Your Grace.”
The woman’s violet eyes rounded again, but only for a second before she masked her surprise. She clearly had no idea whose carriage she’d stowed away in. He studied her for a moment, taking in her hallowed cheeks, pale skin, and wrinkled frock. She appeared as though she’d been through quite an ordeal. “Now explain how it is you came to be inside of my coach?”
Miss Baxter averted her gaze, a deep blush blooming across her face. “I…” She drew a breath and met his gaze. “I am not quite sure how to explain. You see the answer is not at all simple.”
Aaron rubbed the back of his neck. “Start at the beginning and give me the highlights.”
“Well, you see, I was—” The coach came to a stop and the driver called out, cutting off her words. “It really is not a simple answer, Your Grace. I fear the explanation will take some time.”
He waved a dismissive hand. “Never mind the reason. My driver will take you anywhere you wish to go.” He stood as a footman opened the carriage door. “Give my coachman directions and be on your way, Miss Baxter.”
Her shoulders slumped as she looked up at the coaches’ roof. “It is rather late for traveling.”
“Daddy, Daddy, your home.” Aaron turned back to the door at Sophia’s excited voice. Miss Baxter could wait, for now his daughter was all that mattered. He exited the carriage as she ran toward him. The moment she came into reach, he swept her into his arms spinning her in a circle before dropping a kiss on her cheek.
“I missed you so much, Daddy.” Sophia smiled up at him.
He hugged her closer. “I missed you exceedingly too, Poppet.”
“Did you bring me an
ything?” Sophia’s attention turned to the carriage. “Who is that lady, Daddy?” She looked at him, her eyes brimming with curiosity and excitement.
Aaron glanced at the coach, his gaze trailing over the woman filling the doorway. What if she presented a danger to his daughter? He knew nothing of her other than that she did not belong here. And that she came to be at his home in the most outlandish way.
Miss Baxter smiled at him as his footman assisted her from the carriage causing his irritation spiked. Did she truly intend to stay?
Lowering Sophia to the ground, Aaron determined to send Miss Baxter packing. He’d simply put her back in the coach and instruct his driver to take her wherever she wished to go. With long strides, he walked back across the pebbled drive.
“Miss Baxter, I fear you cannot remain here. If you will kindly get back in the carriage my driver will be pleased to take you elsewhere.”
“Your Grace, might I have a meal before you send me away? It has been a very long day and I am famished.” She glanced at the house then back to him.
Sophia tugged at his coattails before he could answer. “Daddy, won’t you introduce me to your new friend?” She beamed up at him with the excitement only a child could muster.
Aaron stared down at his daughter’s glowing face not at all sure how he should proceed. Miss Baxter was clearly in need of sustenance and Sophia was beyond excited at the possibility of having company.
Could he disappoint them both by sending Miss Baxter away without so much as a meal? What sort of gentleman would that make him?
“I am Miss Emma Baxter.” She reached her hand out to Sophia. “And who do I have the pleasure of introducing myself to?”
Sophia took her hand, her eyes dancing as a small giggle escaped her. “Lady Sophia, ma’am. Do say you are staying for the evening meal?”
“I am afraid that decision is your Papa’s to make,”—Miss Baxter turned her violet eyes on him—,“though I would be pleased to dine with you if he sees fit to invite me.”