the carriage. The driver cracked his whip, the horses picked up speed, and the carriage jerked forward.
Nellie clung to her seat as the vehicle careened around a corner. “Where—where are you taking me? I demand you stop at once and let me off.”
“What kind of gentleman would I be if I did that? London at night is a dangerous place for a young woman on her own, full of pickpockets, cutthroats and ruffians. It would be very remiss of me to throw you into such danger.”
The silky menace in his tone sent fright spearing through her heart. She tried desperately to cling to common sense. They were riding in the Ormond carriage with their coat of arms on display. Surely Sir Thaddeus wouldn’t risk his carriage being involved in a criminal act? Too late she realised the folly of her hot words. His perverse antagonism demanded her subservient capitulation, and instead of arguing she should have pretended to do his bidding until an opportunity for escape presented itself.
“Sir Thaddeus…” She gulped, her throat constricting painfully. “I—I have reconsidered your generous offer. If you will just let me go I promise I—”
“Oh, it’s too late for that. I can’t have you hanging in the background, a threat to my family’s future. God knows, I’ve made my sacrifices, marrying that vulgar cow for the good of the family, and I won’t have my son throwing all that away on
He was working himself into a proper fury when the carriage abruptly lurched to a halt. Sir Thaddeus took a peek under the blind and nodded.
“Well, this is where you get off.” He swung open the door and nodded towards the night outside.
“You’re letting me go?” Nellie peered out the carriage. Outside it was pitch black. The faint smell of the river drifted on the night air. “Where—”
Before she could say another word, he shoved her out the carriage. She had no sooner fallen to the ground than a strong pair of hands grabbed her and hauled her upright. The door slammed shut, and the carriage rattled away.
Nellie stared up at the stranger holding her prisoner. He was almost as broad as he was tall, and his hands were like iron manacles. He smelled of animal fat, and the skin around his eyes was pitted with pockmarks.
He grinned at her. “Evenin’, love.”
“The rest, you know.” Nellie pressed her hands to her cheeks. The cool mesh of her glove gave her an odd comfort against the lurid recollections of her attack.
A hand descended on her shoulder. She turned to find Julian mere inches away, his countenance a warring mixture of compassion and chagrin. “So Sir Thaddeus delivered you into the clutches of a hired murderer. But why did the brute sever your fingers? Was that barbarity ordered by Sir Thaddeus?”
“I don’t think so. The man wanted my rings, my wedding ring and my mother’s betrothal ring, but I refused. Stupid, I know, but I—I was so furious.”
“Not stupid. Your struggles gave me time to come to your rescue, or he would surely have killed you and thrown your body in the river.”
She shivered. Julian’s hand on her shoulder emanated warmth through her chilled body. The urge to press her scarred cheek against his hand gripped her so hard she almost moaned with the effort of resisting.
“And now, Nellie? Do you still believe Phillip is the innocent dupe of his father? Or do you think he connived with Sir Thaddeus to get rid of you?”
The black depths of his eyes mesmerised her. Dark stubble peppered his jaw, spots of ash clung to his sideburns, the tang of honest labour perfumed his rumpled clothes. His muscular body, mere inches from hers, pulsed with power and purpose. He was so vividly alive, so dangerously attractive, and his robust masculinity threatened to obliterate all reason.
She sensed herself teetering on a knife-edge. Just a few minutes ago, his kiss had shattered through her defences and ignited desires she never knew she possessed. Yet she had made her vows to her husband. She should not be tempted by Julian, no matter how seductive she found him.
“I want to believe Pip is innocent,” she murmured. “I have to believe it, until I know otherwise.”
Julian let out a small sigh, and his hand fell away from her shoulder as he stepped back a few paces. “What will you do? Will you talk to him?”
Instinctively her fingers shielded her damaged cheeks. “I can’t…”
His eyes hardened. “You think he’ll recoil when he sees you?”
She wanted to think the best of Pip, but he wasn’t used to the uglier side of life. “No, I don’t, but…” But could she take that risk?
“A husband who’d blench at a few scars is not a husband worth keeping.”
“It’s more complex than that. I—I’m leery of showing my face to anyone, not just my husband.”
Julian folded his arms across his chest, his stance belligerent. “So you’re going to hide yourself from the world for the rest of your life? Is that it?”
She pushed up her chin to glare at him. “It’s my decision to make. I won’t be bullied by you.”
“And I had no idea Sir Thaddeus was your father-in-law! So you’ll forgive me if I’m a little testy.” A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw as he scowled at her.
Her chest constricted. Was Julian riled because she was connected to his nemesis? Did the fact that she was Pip’s wife offend his sensibilities?
“I should have told you sooner,” she said. “I had no reason to hide it except reluctance. I’m sorry. I abused your hospitality, and…and I should probably make other arrangements.”
Julian snorted. “You’ll do no such thing or you’ll have Elijah haranguing me. You must stay for as long as you wish. I insist.”
A voice from within warned her to leave this house. She was too caught up with Julian Darke. He was clouding her judgement, stirring up wanton desires, threatening her emotions. She had been at Monksbane nine days. Her wounds were sufficiently healed, but she’d made no plans for the future. She’d been focusing only on taking one step at a time, but it was time to lift her head and decide which path to take into the future. She ought to leave and make contact with Pip, try to sort out this awful mess. But as she stared at Julian, she knew she couldn’t leave this house, this man. At least, not yet. Something was brewing between her and Julian, a storm of cyclonic proportions, and the vortex was drawing her in inexorably.
“Very well,” she murmured. “I shall stay. For a while longer.”
Chapter Seven
A rare camellia plant, the likes of which Nellie had never seen before, stood lost in the wilderness of the garden. Its soft pink flowers glowed like jewels against the wintery surrounds, destined to be appreciated only by a very few. Once upon a time, someone had lovingly tended this garden, filling it with rare species, but now it had been left to be reclaimed by nature.
The untamed confusion suited Nellie. Protected within the old stone walls, the garden was a tranquil oasis from the clamour outside. As she neared the far boundary of the south wall, her steps slowed. From here she could see the sludge-coloured fog hovering on the horizon which marked the city. Quiet fields and pockets of woodland kept the metropolis at bay, but for how much longer?
Turning west, she passed the path which led down to the old icehouse, its semi-submerged roof just visible through the thick shrubbery. Elijah Darke used the ancient structure to store his many specimens. She’d been curious to see them, but Elijah did not invite visitors down there, and the icehouse was out of bounds.
Elijah Darke was unfailingly courteous towards her, but she could not say his company was completely relaxing. Beneath his politeness he was a man of mystery, she’d decided. At his urging, she had appropriated more of his late wife’s wardrobe, altering them to better suit her figure. Though the dresses were decades old,
