Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
“What have you done? This was not our plan!”
“It was necessary. I was not going to leave her.”
“We are supposed to be destroying this place, not funding it!”
As they stopped at a carriage on the street, Ellen listened quietly as the two men in gray masks argued.
She was not at all certain what they were talking about, but when the one who was not Laurence Curtis spoke of destroying the auction, she felt even better about her decision to ask for the duke’s help.
“We will speak about this later, Solomon!” the duke snapped. “I am taking her out of here.”
The man Laurence called Solomon turned to her then, and even through his mask, she could feel his disapproval coming off of him in waves.
“Yes, we will,” Solomon answered through gritted teeth. He then turned back to Laurence and stepped close as he put a hand on his shoulder. “You might have saved one, but the others are still damned. This will not avenge Annabel.”
It was only slight, and nowhere near as hurtful as Benedict’s, but Ellen felt Laurence’s grip tighten even more around her hand as a tense silence stretched between the two rather large men.
“I am well aware of that, old friend.” Laurence’s deep voice sounded hollow, even pained, as he said the words.
Solomon’s mask moved, as if he was grinding his jaw in frustration. Then he bowed his head and gave a sigh.
“I will see you soon,” he said defeatedly, patting Laurence’s shoulder.
“You are not coming?” Laurence called after him.
“I need a walk,” Solomon called over his shoulder. “I will find my own way home when I am ready.”
Tension churned in the air as Ellen and Laurence both watched Solomon disappear into the darkness at the end of the street. Then Laurence sighed, and opened the carriage door.
“Come,” he urged, guiding her to her seat inside first. “You need to get away from this place and I need to get this infernal thing off my face.”
Ellen said nothing, her mind still whirling with all the events the night had unfurled.
She’d gone from running away, to thinking she was free, to being captured by the man she was running away from, sold at an auction, and was now considered ‘property’ of the only man that had ever offered to help her.
It was only after they were settled on opposite sides of the carriage, and the driver was taking them down the street, that Laurence removed his mask and expelled a weary breath.
Ellen studied his face; exhaustion marred his handsome features.
Features that, though she could not quite place them, seemed far more familiar.
She told herself it was simply because she’d seen and met him in her home, and that their strange argument had been so odd, that she had no choice but to remember it.
“You did not want to do this,” she said quietly, breaking the silence.
Still resting his elbows against his knees, Laurence’s green gaze slowly lifted up, his mouth still set in that grim expression.
“Neither did you,” he replied.
Though she didn’t know why, Ellen laughed. Perhaps because it was so ridiculously awful that if she did not laugh she would cry again, and she did not wish to do that.
“So,” Laurence sighed, leaning back into the cushioned seat. “It seems you did need my help after all.”
Ellen followed suit and sat back in her seat, realizing only in that moment that several hours, if not days, had passed since she let her body relax.
“How did you know?” she asked, twirling her fingers together, then apart, over and over again in an effort to self-soothe. “At the party, I mean. How did you know I needed help?”
Laurence’s gaze fell to the bruises on her face.
“I saw you flinch. Twice. Once when he reached for you. And once when I reached to push your hair out of your face,” Laurence answered.
“I was so prideful when you first asked me if I needed help,” Ellen sighed, ashamed of how she’d yelled at him that night. “I thought I did not need help from a stranger. That I could do this on my own! I ran my father’s house. I can surely run my own life!”
A bitter laugh broke from her lips as she looked down at her hands.
“I was a stupid girl,” she muttered.
“Some would say brave,” Laurence offered, his deep voice smooth and gentle.
A smile twitched on Ellen’s lips, but only for a second.
“That is kind of you to say, but not necessarily true. My efforts landed me in the auction,” she replied, reaching up to gingerly touch the marks on her face. “With more bruises than before.”
“Might I ask, how did you end up here?” Laurence asked.
Figuring she owed him a story at the very least for ensuring that Benedict did not take her, she told him.
As she did so, all those feelings she’d felt in those moments rose again.
Hope. Happiness. Fear. Betrayal. And pain.
She was surprised to see all of those emotions reflected in Laurence’s gaze as well.
“I told you she did not seem like a very good friend,” Laurence said with annoyance once she had finished her story.
Ellen’s brows furrowed in confusion as she cocked her head.
“You and I have spoken about Judith before?” she asked.
She could have sworn alarm flickered in Laurence’s eyes, but then she blinked, and it was gone.
“Of course not. I only meant that it does not seem as if she is a true friend,” he answered as he glanced away from her.
She parted her lips, ready to ask him if he was sure that was what he meant, but then he began to speak again.
“We must marry.”
Her parted lips dropped into an open O. She’d just escaped one loveless marriage, and now she was to take on another.
“Your Grace,” she said with panicked urgency. “Please, I do not wish to—”
“It is the only way I can protect you.” He cut her off with a calm tone.
She shook her head, her hand already searching for the handle on the carriage door. She’d fling herself to the street and run if she had to. She thought that there was good in this man, but maybe she had been wrong. Maybe there was no good in any man.
“Think about it,” he urged. “Auction or not, Benedict remains your legal guardian. Your tidbit of knowledge about how the auction works might have saved you tonight. But tomorrow? In the light of day and in society? In the law’s eyes, you are still his ward. He can legally take you.”
“Can you help me escape!” she pleaded.
“…And he will find you again,” Laurence quickly retorted.
“Maybe not as quickly as tonight, but he will find you, Ellen. I know that look in his eyes. That sense of ownership. He will not stop looking for you if you run. But, if you are married? If you become the charge of another man through matrimony? That supersedes his rights as your guardian in the eyes of man and God. It is the only way you will be truly safe.”
His tone was firm and insistent as he spoke the words, yet still, there was a trace of gentleness there that Ellen could not ignore. She looked up at him, her tired eyes welling with fresh tears as her bruised chin wobbled.
“I do not want to be hurt anymore,” she rasped. “I do not want to be owned.”
Laurence’s massive shoulders raised and lowered as he took in a long, measured breath.
“I cannot change what our society dictates in terms of women,” he replied after a moment, “But I can promise you this. I will not hurt you, Ellen. I will not force you into anything you do not want. This can simply be a marriage of convenience.”
Comfort, if only slight, had Ellen’s stature relaxing a bit.
Still, she said nothing as Laurence’s sharp gaze stayed locked on her eyes.
The way he looked at her made her heart hammer in her chest. It was as if he was staring beyond her features, beyond the mole that she was so self-conscious of, and into the deepest parts of herself she kept hidden from the world.
Then he reached up, his fingertips brushing gently across the bruises on her cheek and jaw. Such a light touch, so very different from the way he’d grabbed Benedict, sent sparks shooting along her skin.
“Did he give these to you?” His tone was quiet, yet there was an edge to it. A rage. As if he already knew the answer.
Ellen swallowed. A tremor that she was sure had nothing to do with the fear from earlier ran from where his fingertips connected to his face to the very tips of her toes.
“Yes,” she whispered.
Laurence’s green eyes darkened as his jaw ticked and his nostrils flared.
“Never again,” he swore. “From him or anyone else.”
Ellen shook her head.
“Maybe not. But I would still be entrusting you, a stranger—a man—not to take advantage of our situation. Surely you can understand why that would be difficult for me?”
Something like hurt passed through his eyes. He dropped his hand and his gaze, and when he looked up at her again, that hurt was gone; replaced with a calm, measured expression on his handsome face.
“I do understand your reticence,” Laurence went on, leaning back into his seat. “In truth, I do not want to be married either. But this is the only permanent protection I can afford you.”
Ellen’s mind exploded into a messy cacophony of thoughts. She thought of when she’d first met him. Of how he seemed more than ready to strangle her cousin to death just a few moments earlier—and a question came.
“Why are you so willing to help me?” she asked.
Laurence tensed.
“You asked me to,” he quipped.
“No,” she quickly retorted. “Not just tonight. Though, I…”
She swallowed, still astounded at how high the bid had reached- and how he was so willing to pay it.
“I am…extremely grateful that you would part with such a fortune to help me out of such an awful predicament.”
Laurence grunted and looked away, as if he was uncomfortable talking about his wealth. Odd, given that most men of the Ton positively adored showing off their wealth.
“I also meant at the party,” Ellen went on, “You did not know me, but you knew Benedict. Yet instead of being with him, you were in my father’s old study, looking for something.”
“I told you, you flinched,” Laurence replied, his tone growing weary.
Ellen shook her head, not believing that was the only reason.
“That is not the only reason,” she said. “It is clear now that you despise him, so why were you at his party? Why were you in the study?”
Laurence’s left brow cocked as if he was impressed.
“You are a perceptive young lady.”
“I ran my father’s household for years before he died,” she answered quickly and raised her chin confidently. “Now I ask again. Why were you there if you despise my cousin?”
Laurence’s nostrils flared. His jaw tightened. But when he spoke, his tone was low and touched with sadness.
“I believe your cousin is responsible for some terrible things. I want to find evidence that he is responsible and punish him.”
It was the truth. She could tell not just from the way he spoke, but from the way he met her gaze with unflinching remorse.
“What terrible things?” she asked.
Laurence glanced away, but not before she saw another flash of pain pass through his eyes.
“The auction, for one. I believe he has a personal interest. He brought you there tonight to teach you a lesson, but I suspect his reasons for attending go far beyond that. The way he spoke with Nigel… They are familiar with one another. I am certain of it.”
Ellen turned the new information over carefully in her mind.
Then he looked back up at her just as the carriage came to a stop.
“As my wife, you could help me take him down,” he offered.
Ellen felt a tremor of excitement move through her body, and she was not sure if it was the way he so possessively said my wife, or if it was the offer of vengeance on the man who had destroyed her world. Either way, she knew, in that moment, she had made her decision.
“When do we marry?” she asked as the driver opened the door for them.
Laurence got out first, then extended his hand to her. She hesitated for a second, then accepted it and allowed him to help her out. She was surprised to find not a mansion, but a rather romantic-looking cottage snuggled between trees off the beaten path.
“I will get the proper papers together within three days,” Laurence answered once she was standing before him, his lips twitching almost toward a smile. “I will take care of everything. Until then, this will be your home. You are safe here, my future Duchess of Blackford.”