Chapter 18
James stared at the woman he’d rescued while fighting the urge to shake her.
“Leaving,” she told him decisively.
He blinked, pulled her upright, and shoved her onto the vacant spot beside him. “What?”
“You asked me what I was doing, and I replied.” She crossed her arms and glared at him as though he were the devil who’d made her available to the highest bidder. “But it seems as though I am your captive now with no more freedom than what I had an hour ago.”
Fueled by anger, he rounded on her despite the crippling pain that traversed his torso. Caging her in, he planted one hand on either side of her head. “Do not dare to compare me with those who drugged you into compliance and who would have sold you into slavery.”
“Will you help me avoid going home?” The question was softly spoken, the desperation of her emotions reflected in her eyes.
James inhaled and was instantly assailed by the sweet perfume that clung to her skin. He stared at her through the darkness, at the faintly outlined features he’d seen more clearly in that awful room when he’d offered his hand.
Dark green eyes fringed by black lashes had stared toward him, so full of hope, fear, and doubt.
Her hair, he recalled, shared the same hue as her brother’s, reminding James of coffee and decadent chocolate.
His gaze dropped to her mouth for one fleeting second, but it was enough.
There was no erasing the memory of what those soft lips looked like: full, delicately curved, and sharing the same deep hue as the roses that climbed the back of Croft House.
His gut tightened, and for a brief second, only temptation existed.
Until he realized she was trembling, her posture rigid, her head pressed as far back into the squabs as it could possibly go.
With a muttered curse, he withdrew. What in all that was holy had he been thinking? As if the poor woman had not been through enough, she also had to suffer his inappropriate behavior?
“Forgive me.” He slumped back into his corner. “I didn’t mean to alarm you.”
She was silent a moment, but when she spoke next, her voice was raw. “I will pay for this with my life.”
A shudder went through him. Was she thinking of killing herself? Or did she imagine her brother would kill her? Maybe she meant it metaphorically, in the sense that her life would be forever changed by what had happened?
The carriage rounded another corner, bringing them ever closer to Portman Square. James tried to dismiss her comment, to stomp it out of existence, but failed.
He needed clarification. “What are you saying, exactly?”
“It doesn’t matter.” The whispered words held a dark promise. “Thank you for coming to get me. Despite what I’ve said, I’m glad you did.”
“Listen. I’m sorry for what was done to you. Truly. If there’s anything else I can…” He stopped himself, aware that there was indeed something else he could do. She’d told him so already, yet he’d denied her.
Because of Croft.
The carriage started to slow as it pulled into Portman Square.
James’s mind raced.
He’d been Mr. Croft’s loyal servant for over a decade, during which he’d fought by his side, helped punish those who betrayed him, disposed of bodies, and risked his own life.
Yet Mr. Croft was strong. He could survive any ordeal thrown his way. There were others who could step in and help him.
The same might not be true of Lady Edwina, but to take her elsewhere, to break the promise James made to bring her to Croft, would be a deep betrayal. More than that, it put Croft in a difficult position with Wrengate. Plus, there was James’s own physical state to consider.
He’d been shot. Twice. Though he was fairly certain neither of the lead balls had struck any vital parts, they would still require extraction.
That aside, the fact that Lady Edwina feared returning home made him horribly uneasy. What sort of rescue was this if she did not feel safe?
That she would speak of paying for this with her life was deeply troubling.
Perhaps the least he could do was allow her one night to adjust. Everything that had happened was still so fresh. But if she were able to sleep and reflect, she might feel differently tomorrow.
Food would probably help too. A hearty meal and a chance to accept the situation for what it was would surely aid in her recovery. If James could talk to her at greater length, then he could convince her that running away wasn’t the answer.
Whatever Wrengate’s flaws, the duke would give her comfort and security, along with all the luxuries she was accustomed to. It was absurd for her to consider an alternative.
I’ll pay for this with my life.
First, he had to be certain she wouldn’t do something stupid.
He’d never forgive himself if he let her go and she perished because he’d refused the help she’d requested.
His own moral code owed it to her to make sure she would be all right.
A more pressing duty than the one toward Croft, he reasoned.
Decision made, he opened the hatch in the roof and called to the driver, “There’s been a change of plan. Please continue onward to The Mad Bull Tavern.”