Chapter 2
“Scots?” Arran roared. “How many?”
“It is… hard to tell, my lord,” the footman replied. “They seem to be… everywhere.”
By this point in their acquaintance, Victoria was more than accustomed to the vicious kaleidoscope of rageful looks that could shift across her betrothed’s face.
This particular kind, currently purpling his statuesque face, was one of indignation, usually reserved for when he felt that his pride or ego was being challenged.
The Earl tended to think so highly of himself that when anyone dared to threaten his position or opinion in the slightest, he seemed to have some sort of internal collapse over the situation.
The Earl’s hand balled tightly into a fist at his side, and for a moment, Victoria braced herself for a strike, forgetting that she was temporarily out of his reach on the floor. Next, she feared for the footman’s face, but instead, the Earl only spoke to the man.
“This is an outrage! Have my horse prepared at once.”
“Your horse, my lord?” the footman asked, though it was a valid question. Why would a man run when he should, by rights, stay and fight for his territory?
This might be my chance, was Victoria’s only thought on the matter.
She thought to herself that if she stayed very still and very quiet, perhaps she might have a slim possibility of not being noticed right away. Perhaps if that were the case, then the Earl might forget that she was presently unrestrained. Could he be that distracted?
She made no effort to get up off the floor; she did her very best to make no sound at all as the Earl berated the footman and barked questions at him that he stammered and struggled to answer. It seemed that the poor boy was starting to catch his breath at the very least.
The Earl was nearly out the door before he turned to the footman, waving at her crumpled body as if she were nothing more than an afterthought.
“Restrain her to the bed until I return. I cannot have her running about and putting herself in danger again. You know how much trouble she likes to get herself into.”
Victoria’s heart dropped into her stomach. The slim possibility of hope that she might have had was gone now. Few of the staff in this miserable house had been kind to her.
None of them was willing to risk their employment for her sake, and she could not even find it in her heart to hate them for it.
She knew that they all likely had families waiting for them at home, and they could not afford to risk not being able to put food on the table by disobeying their cruel master.
She knew, but it still hurt her deeply all the same.
The footman started to advance on her, and she shook her head, fresh tears beading upon her eyelashes, a swift blink sending them trickling down her face.
“Please,” she croaked.
Her wrists hurt too much as it was; she could not bear to be shackled again. She attempted to lift a hand over her face as if that might somehow stop the young man from grabbing her and tying her back up.
Panic started to well within her as he produced the rope that would be her mental undoing.
The Earl lingered in the doorway just long enough to see the rope being wrapped around her thrashing body as she struggled, weakly, to try to get away from this man, who had to be at least five years younger than herself.
“Please,” she begged again, her voice a ragged whisper. “Please do not do this, I beg you–”
“Shhh, my lady, please…” The footman whispered, his eyes growing wide with fear as he glanced over his shoulder. He was but a child. She did not wish to harm him, but she desperately wanted to get away.
It was not until his frantic shushing actually registered that she realized he had stopped attempting to tie the knot around her wrists.
“When I leave, run, my lady, run and never look back,” the footman whispered, and backed away from her with a pointed nod toward the door.
She did not have time to question his kindness; she certainly did not have time for explanations or to think twice about whether this was actually another trap or not. She could not afford to have such thoughts. If this were an actual chance, then she needed to act on it as quickly as she could.
There was only one thing that she needed to think about now: Melody.
Victoria’s younger sister and the greatest love of her life—the only person that mattered now.
The Earl had brought Melody here for the wedding, pretending that it was an extended visit, but it was so much more than that.
He had only brought her here after Victoria’s last escape attempt, and Victoria knew it for what it actually was: Melody was here as an insurance policy that she would not step out of line any further.
It worked, but now it was time to get them both out of there.
The house was in an uproar as she ran out into the hallway.
The dress that she wore was somewhat restrictive in its length, but she gathered the excess skirt fabric in her hands to the best of her ability and took off down the hall.
She could only allow herself to focus on one thing and one thing only—reaching Melody’s bedroom.
Her sister must have been terrified with everything that was happening—so much noise and chaos—and Victoria doubted that they had bothered to warn Melody about anything at all.
She could hear the frantic shouting and such of the servants panicking as they ran through the house.
It was just the distraction that she needed in order to find herself barging into Melody’s bedroom…
and having to swiftly dodge the heavy candlestick that was aimed directly at her head the moment that she did.
“Oh, Victoria! I am so sorry!” Melody gasped, her small stature shrinking away as Victoria kicked the bedroom door shut behind her and quickly wrapped her sister in her embrace.
“Are you hurt?” Melody’s muffled voice asked against her older sister’s shoulder. “What has happened?”
Victoria could have cried at the irony of it. “Am I not the one who ought to be saying that to you?”
“I barely know. I heard a crash, then people shouting. What is happening out there?” Melody asked, her eyes wide with panic.
Then she looked down to see the state of Victoria’s gloves, a hue of rusty pink just beginning to seep through the satin.
“Oh, what is that? Are you bleeding? Did you hurt yourself? Did someone hurt you?”
It would have been too easy to waste minutes there, explaining the nature of Charles Rowley and just how hurt she was, but Victoria’s greater concern was for their mutual survival.
“There is no time for that. We must leave right this very moment,” Victoria said, her tone leaving absolutely no room for argument.
Melody looked like she might protest for a couple of moments, the questions very obvious on her beautiful face.
They must have looked quite a pair, Victoria all drawn and gaunt and miserable in her wedding dress and Melody in her gown, her black hair done up prettily, her face still healthy and showing all the signs that she had been mercifully well cared for during her stay here.
The Earl had been doing everything in his power to limit their time together, telling tales to try to crush Victoria’s spirit further, so it was a relief to see Melody unharmed.
Small mercies…
Ultimately, Melody’s faith in her sister won out, and she nodded once before slipping her hand into her older sister’s. “Lead the way. Tell me everything when we are safe.”
Victoria could have cried from the trust and hope alone.
She tightly grasped her sister’s hand in return, and the pair of them headed into the maids’ corridor in Melody’s room.
It was a small blessing that it was unlocked.
The passageway was a tight fit, made all the more difficult to move through when Victoria would not let go of Melody’s hand, attempting to hurry without jostling her sister too much.
“I do not even know where we will be going, but we have to get out of this place,” Victoria wheezed back over her shoulder as they pressed on through the dimly lit gloom of the labyrinthine passageways.
Melody’s confusion was palpable. “All right, I trust you.”
Victoria’s eyes started to blur with tears as she continued down the dusty corridors, glancing around corners before a door spat them out into the kitchens.
The staff were all gone, pots and utensils left abandoned, the room still warm from the hearths that had been preparing dinner.
Although she noticed that several knives were missing from the knife block…
and wondered if she ought to take one too.
Realizing that she had no business wielding a knife, she pulled her sister toward the far door and eased it open to peek out.
She had no idea which direction would get them out of this manor, she had no idea how to get to the stables, and she certainly did not know how to hitch up a horse on her own, let alone prepare a carriage, but she knew that she could not stay here.
She was utterly lost, feeling as helpless as Charles liked to tell her she was.
“Perhaps… perhaps we ought to go this way?” Victoria offered, knowing that she needed to pretend that she knew what she was doing, though it did not feel like she was very successful in her efforts.
Melody only tightened her grip on her sister’s hand and nodded toward her once more.
“When we get to wherever you wish to go, will you tell me what is wrong? Perhaps we should find Father?” Melody offered, her sweet voice attempting to make sense of the situation.
“No!” Victoria nearly shouted.