Chapter 36
Helena was lying on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, when she heard the door downstairs swing open and then slam shut. Following that came footsteps, thumping up the stairs and then down the hallway toward her. They were heavy and rushed. Worse than that, they sounded angry.
Oh no.
She swung herself off the bed and sat up, hands folded on her lap, doing her best to look nonconfrontational. As she had come to learn during her short imprisonment, Mr. Ramsay did not appreciate being spoken back to or being shown even a hint of dissent.
It was all she could do to appear calm and in control. Moments ago, she had been that.
Having been locked in this tiny room for the better part of a full day, she had long since moved on from gut-wrenching terror, because it seemed to her that Mr. Ramsay did not wish her any physical harm.
Rather, he was using her to get what he wanted.
She still did not know exactly what he wanted, just as she did not know exactly what had happened to cause all of this. Something to do with Sebastian, his lying to Mr. Ramsay about…
She had no idea. Not that she was surprised.
Her husband was a renowned liar, and she should have expected that his lies would catch up with him. As well as her, for that matter.
Still, that did not stop her from hoping. From praying that he would find and save her.
Despite everything that happened, Helena could not bring herself to hate Sebastian. If anything, this past day made her realize just how much she missed him. And she knew that if anyone could rescue her, it would be him.
More than that, Mr. Ramsay’s deranged rantings implied that there was something bigger at play here.
Was it possible that she was wrong about Sebastian? And if so, to what end?
She hoped these questions might be answered because, deep down, she wanted to forgive Sebastian. Just as she wanted to believe that she was wrong about him.
Not that it mattered, because from the sound of those footsteps, she doubted her husband was the one who was making them.
Indeed, she heard the lock on the other side of the door click, and when it swung open, her heart sank because it seemed that the worst had happened.
Her husband, wherever he was, was not coming to save her.
“I will not be made to look like a fool!” Mr. Ramsay stormed into the room. His face was red, his body trembled, and his beady eyes were narrowed such that they almost touched the bridge of his nose. “He is the fool! Him!”
Helena gasped. “Mr. Ramsay, what—”
“He will pay!” he cried as he crossed the room. But not toward Helena, thankfully. Rather, he went for the empty wardrobe, which he grabbed and wrenched to the ground. It struck the floor and shook the room, and Helena cried out again. “Pay!”
“What happened?” She scurried back on the bed, her calm totally gone.
“Does he not believe me?!” Mr. Ramsay lunged at the desk by the window, snatching the lantern and launching it across the room. It smashed against the wall and shattered. “Or perhaps I overestimated him!”
He stood there for a moment, his hands clenched by his sides, his breathing ragged and heavy. Then, slowly, he turned to face Helena, who was sitting on the bed, caught between holding her knees to her chest and charging for the door.
In fact…
She glanced at the door, finding it open. Back on Mr. Ramsay, a moment as their eyes locked, and then she took her chance. The only one she would have.
Helena leapt from the bed.
“No, you don’t!” He darted across the room, blocking the door.
She cried out and stumbled back, turned and tripped, falling onto the bed again.
“Your husband…” He advanced on her, seething. “I knew he did not love you. I knew he loved only himself. But even I failed to underestimate just how little he cared.”
Helena spun around, her eyes wide, her heart caught in her throat, to see him approaching. And the look on his face…
At that moment, she truly believed he meant to kill her.
“Please…”
“It is a shame that anything I do to you won’t make a difference,” he spat as he took another step closer.
“A shame that the Duke will not care. Somehow, I will have to find my own pleasure in watching you bleed. Maybe then…” His eyes flashed with menace.
“Maybe then he will realize what it means to—”
Mr. Ramsay’s deranged ranting was cut short by a crash that echoed from downstairs. It sounded to Helena like a door being kicked open.
“Oi!” she heard a deep voice bark. “Who do you think—”
Someone cried out. Another crash shook the house. And then Helena heard the sweetest sound she could have ever imagined.
“Helena!” It was Sebastian, his voice coming from downstairs. “Helena!”
“Where did you come from!” another deep voice barked. “Don’t think you can—”
A thump cut off whoever had spoken, then a cry, followed by a loud crash.
“Helena!”
“No!” Mr. Ramsay yelped.
He spun about, his head swiveling, his eyes wide as he looked around the room. The anger seeped out of him. The confidence in being the biggest man in the room.
“This is not…” He caught his tongue, clenched his jaw, and then grinned. “Oh yes. Yes!”
Helen’s excitement soared, only to crash when Mr. Ramsay snatched the pistol from his waistband. His laughter was deranged as he hurried across the room, putting himself beside the open door, hidden so anyone coming from the other side wouldn’t be able to see him.
“Don’t.” He cocked the pistol and aimed it at her. “Do not even think about it.”
“Helena!”
Helena sat frozen on the bed. The pistol was pointed at her chest. Mr. Ramsay was hiding behind the wall, and the sound of Sebastian’s thumping footsteps came closer as he climbed the stairs and charged down the hallway.
“Helena!”
Mr. Ramsay was laughing silently. Eyes wide and manic. He looked positively thrilled with himself, as if this was his plan all along. And all the while, those footsteps came closer.
Oh no, what do I do? What can I do?
Helena thought of crying out and warning Sebastian. Better that she do that, even if it meant being shot.
But what would be the point? Sebastian still might not avoid a second bullet.
She started to panic. She looked around the room for an answer. And then, with nothing for it, she acted in the only way she could think.
Even if it was perhaps not the smartest thing to do.
“Sebastian!” she cried as she leapt with all the force she could muster across the bed. “Don’t come in—owe!” She flew off the bed, over its end, and crashed onto the floor.
“Wh—” Mr. Ramsay sputtered, following her with the pistol and pulling the trigger.
Helena heard the pistol go off with a loud bang, just as she heard the bullet take a chunk out of the wall right over her head. But she was too dazed to consider the sheer madness of what she had just done.
On the floor by the end of the bed, she turned over to see Sebastian burst into the room.
He wasted no time.
Mr. Ramsay, caught off guard, attempted to spin back and aim the pistol at him. And Sebastian, seeing him do this, lunged forward and grabbed his wrist. The pistol was aimed upwards. Another shot was fired, Helena screamed, and the two men wrestled.
Sebastian was larger than Mr. Ramsay. He was stronger. And Helena could see how angry he was. How damn determined. It took him little effort to pry the pistol from Mr. Ramsay’s hand, at which point he tossed it onto the bed.
“Wait!” Mr. Ramsay stepped back, hands held before him, fear now taking over because he could see the situation unfolding. And it wasn’t good. For him, anyway. “We can talk about—”
Sebastian’s right fist connected squarely with Mr. Ramsay’s nose. Helena heard bone breaking and Mr. Ramsay squawk in pain as he stumbled back. He fell into the wall, his hands automatically covering his face. But that just left his stomach exposed.
Sebastian aimed another brutal punch at him, this time connecting with his stomach. Mr. Ramsay doubled over, which saw Sebastian grab him by the head and drive his knee into the publisher’s face.
“Argh!” Mr. Ramsay cried as Sebastian, still holding him by the head, tossed him to the ground. “Please!” Sebastian drove his foot into the man’s stomach. “Argh!” And again.
He was like an animal.
Helena watched, wide-eyed, as Sebastian savaged Mr. Ramsay. Beat him into a bloody pulp. So vicious and brutal were the attacks that she started to feel bad for the little man. She expected Sebastian to stop. She figured that once Mr. Ramsay was incapacitated, Sebastian would calm down.
Oh no, he is going to kill him.
Helena was no fan of Mr. Ramsay’s, and she would be lying if she said that she didn’t take some pleasure from seeing him brutalized. But it was over; he was no longer a threat, and she worried what might happen if Sebastian didn’t get a hold of himself.
“Sebastian!” she cried out as she scrambled to her feet. “Stop!”
Sebastian stood over Mr. Ramsay, his foot raised, his jaw clenched as he seethed and spat his fury. Very much ready to kill.
But her voice somehow broke him from his rage. His head snapped around, finding her, and she looked at him pleadingly.
“It is done…” Slowly, she crossed the room, holding out a hand for him to take. “It is over.”
“But he… he would have killed you,” Sebastian snarled.
“Perhaps.”
“He meant to use you against me. The children… He… he needs to pay.” He glared at Mr. Ramsay, who whimpered pathetically on the floor.
“And he will.” Helena reached for Sebastian’s hand and took it. “But not like this. Not like this.”
She squeezed his hand, and she could feel him relaxing. She pulled him away from Mr. Ramsay, and he did not fight her.
“I’m sorry, Helena. I—”
“You do not have to apologize,” she said.
“I do. Everything… all of this… it is my fault.”
“As is you saving me.” She took his other hand. “I can’t help but think that we are even.”
He frowned at her response. Eyes flicking to her hands, then back to her. She held the smile, letting it wash over him.
Helena did not know what had happened exactly. She could not say how things had come to this.
Was it really Sebastian’s fault? Should she blame him or forgive him? What was the truth, if such a thing even existed?
What she could say was how she felt when she heard his voice earlier.
What she could say was how fearful she had been when she thought Mr. Ramsay might shoot him.
What she could say was how relieved she had been to see him fly through the door, there to rescue her, which in hindsight wasn’t nearly as surprising as it might have seemed.
What would happen next, she could not say. What Sebastian might tell her, she couldn’t even guess. But for now, it was enough to know that he rescued her. Actions that meant more than words ever could.
“You came for me,” she breathed, still holding his hands.
It was subtle. It was unclear. But a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
“Of course I did. How could you think…” He winced. “I’m sorry, Helena. I am so sorry for—”
“Not now,” she interrupted. “Not here. Let us take care of this…” She gestured to Mr. Ramsay, who was still whimpering on the floor. “And then you can tell me everything. The truth, this time.”
Sebastian laughed awkwardly and breathed out. “The truth. I can’t help but feel that at this point, you deserve it.”